Saving Grace

60

They played Strangers in the Night as they lowered her into the ground.

I stood at the foot of her grave in my suit and tie, five days after watching Albert put that bullet through her skull, with a paralysing numbness that had sunk so deep I feared that I would never shake it. And only once she was six feet down did I looked up, only to see that she was alone. Nobody had come to say goodbye – not Fiona, or Shelley, or Sebastian. We were alone.

Well, almost.

A white, angelic figure emerged from behind a gravestone. She walked solemnly, her milky-white face pulled into a deeply sad expression, framed with a tumble of pale blond hair, almost white in the cold sun. Her radiant, pastel blue eyes shone, lighter than Grace's but shaped just the same. They flicked up to meet mine as she stopped beside me and looked down into Grace's grave.

"She hated this song." The girl smiled sadly, placed a small bouquet of white roses at the foot of the grave. She wiped her tears, breathed in deep. I pictured the night we danced to it.

"Yes, she did."

She laced her hands in front of her white lace dress, stayed silent for a long moment.

"Did you know her well?"

"Better than anyone," I said. "She was the love of my life."

The girl shifted, surprised. She looked deep into my eyes.

"I'm so sorry."

I nodded.

Heavy footsteps cracked the stone pathway, growing louder and louder.

"Richard."

Godric, dressed in his suit and tie, placed his hand on my shoulder. I frowned, examined the dark look on his face.

"What is it?"

He paused, shook his head.

"Nothing, Richard. Everything is fine. I just came to say goodbye."

He straightened up, feet shoulder-width apart, hands laced. He couldn't look at me.

"Godric, what's happened? Where's my brother?"

"Scott is fine," he said. "Phillip, too."

"Then what is it?"

"It can wait, Richard."

"No, it can't. Tell me."

He paused, looked up at the strange girl, looked back at me. Then he grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the scene.

"I need you to stay calm, Richard, no matter what you feel."

"Fine," I said, shoving his hand off me. "Just tell me what it is."

"Somerton," he said. He glanced up, made sure the girl couldn't hear us. "Phillip's men transfer him to the Burnington Gaol. They drive down highway, past Mount Evgenia, when..." He shook his head, lowered his eyes. "He escaped."

My jaw clenched, throat closed over.

"What?"

"Somerton is gone."

My eyes darted, mind reeled.

"But I swear to you, Richard," he said quickly, "Phillip and my men are looking for him as we speak – scouring every inch of this city. We will not rest until he is found."

"He's gone," I whispered. "After everything he did to me, to her... and he's just gone?" My body trembled, violence burning in my eyes. "I want him dead, Godric. Not arrested, not locked away – dead!"

"And he will be, Richard," Godric promised. He lowered his head, stared me straight in the eyes. "I swear it."

© A.G. Travers 2018