Netherworld: Drop Dead Sexy(70)
Chapter Fifteen
I entered Miller-Edwards Funeral Home on Dan’s arm and gaped at the full lobby. “A lot of stiffs on display tonight, I guess,” I muttered. I spoke quietly despite the fact I could have yelled and screamed and no one would have known the difference. Nobody speaks loudly in a funeral home. Public grieving is so darn civilized. Despite the crowd, you could easily hear the soft piped-in music, even the rustle of clothing.
“Just you and one other,” Dan answered, his voice equally hushed.
Even in the lobby, floral arrangements perched anywhere there a horizontal surface existed to support them. As if that wasn’t enough, I spotted bowls and jars of potpourri dotting the room. It was as if the funeral home directors were obsessed with hiding the slightest odor of corruption. It smelled like a meadow full of flowers had farted.
Dan pulled me into the Darien Room where a snow-white closed casket sat under a soft spotlight. It gleamed with ethereal mistiness, as if in the act of being dissolved into the eternal clouds of Heaven.
If not for the canny lighting that left the rest of the room in dimmer shadows, I would have missed it in the large gathering. My first instinct was that we’d gone to the wrong room because there were so many people. We’d only taken a few steps into the mauve-carpeted room when I jerked to a halt.
My eyes went so wide with disbelief they hurt. I turned to Dan. “What – why?”
He stroked a thumb beneath my eye. Only then did I realize a tear had escaped. “Why not? People care, Brandilynn. You don’t have to do great things for them to notice you’re not around anymore. Sometimes the lightest touch is enough to affect others.”
“You sound like Augustus,” I said, my voice strangled. I blinked back further tears before they could embarrass me. With my vision cleared, I spotted the griffin sitting next to a sofa where Tristan’s black-wearing vampire aide Penny perched. People looked at him in awe, giving him a wide berth. “Speak of the furry, feathered devil.”
Dan followed the direction of my gaze, and he jerked so slightly I wouldn’t have felt it if I hadn’t been molded to his side. “Now that’s respect. He rarely allows himself to be seen in public. You’ve made a heck of an impression.”
My throat closed up again, and I fought to get hold of myself. I was not a weepy damsel in distress. Not me. “I don’t know why he’d do that for me. I haven’t done anything in particular to astound someone like him.”
I let my gaze roam back to the casket that held my remains. It was closed of course. The Ripper’s mutilations and amount of time my body had spent in the woods had no doubt made the view exceedingly unpleasant. A line of people filed past, some pausing to touch the gleaming surface of the casket. The sweet young man with Downs Syndrome who carried my groceries to the car and acted like my five dollar tips were a
flood of wealth. The barista from the coffee shop I went to every day, a single mom with two children. A salesperson from the bookstore I frequented.
I watched Agent Heany mouth something as he leaned close. A prayer, perhaps? A promise to catch the monster that had ended my time among the living? Agent Neuhaus did something similar. Sheriff Grayson simply bowed his head and closed his eyes for a few moments. Buck the puking deputy crossed himself.
After paying their respects, people stopped at the head of the casket to have a few words with Tristan and Patricia, who stood in for my family. The vampire siblings were as grave (ha-ha) as the occasion demanded, looking cold and beautiful and yet appropriately solemn. A few bodyguard weres including Gerald and Eddie stood nearby, looking like the Secret Service in dark suits and ties.
Dan tugged at me, and I allowed him to lead me into the room. We threaded our way through the gathering, and I saw the owner and several employees of the escort service I’d worked for along with Lana, Taylor, and Isabella.
I halted before an aged man sitting alone in an armchair. His eyes rested blankly on an arrangement of lilies sitting on the table in front of him. I dropped to my knees before him and grasped one bony, big-knuckled hand in my nonexistent grip.
My heart ached. “Martin. You came for me? Oh you sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”
Dan’s voice drifted down. He stood behind me, staring at the old man’s sorrowing face. “Why does he look familiar to me?”
I sniffled and wished for ghost tissue. “It’s Martin Lancaster. He owned the computer factory that caught on fire a few years back.”
“Oh, I remember that.”
I wanted to hug Martin more than anything. I wish I had loaded up on energy before I’d come here, just so I could offer some comfort. “He lost everything in that fire. It turned out he didn’t have enough insurance to cover the damages and lawsuits that followed. He’d been a client when he was still rich but it was only for companionship, not sex. His family up and abandoned him after he was destitute.”