P.S. Play BOTH the songs DURING THE READING. I mean it guys, for full story experience! ;) Download them if u have to. And no complaining 'bout nothing important happening here. This is the aftermath of important crap.
~Rose
Damien was still at the coffin, holding the lid up as he stared down at) Diana's face. I was on the other side, doing the same. Every time I looked at her I seemed to relive the pain of waiting for her to open her eyes, waiting for her chest to miraculously rise and fall again. It gave me a lump in my throat.
"A beauty, she is." I turned at the new voice to be met with an overweight elderly woman. Her completely white hair was tied in a neat bun at the top of her head. Her bright blue eyes were crinkled, showing one of the few signs of her true age. She wore a large pale blue dress that flowed down to her little feet. Despite her age, she walked just fine if not a little slow. Her kind face was drawn to the pale white one in the coffin.
Damien hadn't turned at her voice. Instead, he gave a sad smile as if he knew the woman already. I suspected she was part of his pack. "Thank you, Mrs Underwood. She really was unique."
Mrs Underwood looked at my own pained eyes that now held a new curiosity in them. She offered me a smile. "You must be Rosemary. I'm sorry for your loss, dear. I was quite fond of her liveliness. She was the only one able to leave Damien here dumbfounded without getting punished."
I laughed dryly and put a hand on Damien's shoulder. "Yeah. Big bad Alpha was actually getting soft."
Surprisingly, he smiled at me and laid his hand on top of mine. He glanced back at Diana inside of the coffin. "I only wish I could tell her how I felt about her."
There was a long silence. "How did you feel about her?"
He didn't answer, but took something out of his suit-jacket pocket. I peered over his shoulder. It was photo of those two. Damien was actually smiling in Diana's presence, staring at the camera. He was covered in spaghetti and the red sauce slid down his face and clothes. Someone drew a sloppy mustache with sauce on his clean-shaved upper lip.
Diana stood next to him, a plate with only a few noodles left on it in her hands. She was unscathed and posing for the picture, two fingers held up and placed behind his head to give the illusion of a pair of bunny-ears.
I was shocked at how close they had become in such a short time. I hadn't known about their relationship. I supposed Diana had thought about the fact that they were stuck with each other and ended up trying to make the most of it. If you can't beat them, join them.
"I wanted to give her this," he said quietly. "To remind her of that day whenever things would get a little rough." He paused and seemed to reconsider. "OK, very rough." His eyes turned dark and he tucked the photo back into his jacket. "I guess it was for nothing."
"No, dear." Mrs Underwood gently turned him to look at her. His eyes softened at the elderly lady as he stared down. "All good things must come to an end. You can't stop caring about things in fear of hurting when they go. You must cherish the good times and keep them close to you. In here," she patted his chest, where his heart was positioned. "That will give you strength."
"She's right," I spoke up. They both looked at me. I rubbed my upper arm, staring past them as I remembered. "I learned that the hard way."
Damien nodded in understanding and, after a certain almost motherly woman stretching her cheek out to him expectantly, he pecked Mrs Underwood on the cheek and shut the lid of the coffin.
"Funeral start's in two. Any of your friends still want to join, now is the time."
I glanced over my shoulder. Matt and Nate stood there in suits, the former talking with one of the pack members while the latter just paced around uneasily. Probably preparing himself mentally, or trying to keep his thirst under control. I had no idea where their sister was and I didn't care that much. Stoyan just stood there, also in a dark suit, seeming to chew on the inside of his cheek nervously. But aside from those three, no one else outside the pack came. I could always count on them, but still I felt a lonely whisper tugging at my heart. An empty feeling. Swallowing a lump in my throat, I answered him:
"No. No one else's coming."
*
Three males came staggering out into the night; the younger two supporting the older one, each of his arms strung over their necks. The brothers had no idea where they were taking him, they just knew he was running out of time. They couldn't move faster than twenty paces in twenty seconds. Frequently, they were forced to halt as their elder's body spasmed and he coughed up more blood onto the ground.
He looked terrible. His normally lightly tanned skin was pale as death, his once hazel eyes a blunt fading grey. The purple bruise-like marks all over his skin suggested someone attacked him with a pair of brass knuckles. Everything about him except for the marks was colorless, drab. His sweaty skin glistened in the light of the full moon.
"We're not gonna make it," Ken choked out. His nephews, Fallon and Joe ignored his attempts in giving up and instead shifted their holds on his arms, pulling them up higher across the back of their necks before moving forward again, one strained step at a time.
The younger brother passed a glance to his sibling. "You asked her about any possible cures?"
"I'm right here, you know." The witch he spoke of, Abigail, was trailing behind them. A look of sadness yet irritation masked her pale face. "And no, I can't cure him," she said helplessly as if he were her own uncle. "I've looked everywhere."
"I can't believe this," Fallon growled. "After centuries of making it hell for us, the Great Ken is going like this."
"Fallon, shut up," Joe snapped. "Don't you have any sympathy?"
He didn't answer, but instead stopped in his trails when he heard a vibrating. "Your phone..."
Joe removed one hand from Ken's opposite shoulder and reached into his pocket. When he looked at the screen, his eyes flashed and almost reluctantly he answered.
"Where are you?" A voice on the other side demanded. Fallon knew it was one of the green-eyed twins, he just couldn't guess which one. "Diana's funeral is today."
Joe froze. He closed his eyes and sighed. "Matt."
"Don't you 'Matt' me," the voice snapped. "You promised you'd come. Rose needs you guys. The funeral is going to start any minute. And where's Abby?"
Abigail stared at the phone in regret, her arms loosely folded across her chest. She slowly shook her head at Joe when he paused for her excuse to be spoken.
"Joe." Despite being answered with silence, Matt knew Joe was still there, listening on the other side of the line. "Rose needs this. We all do."
Joe looked at Fallon. He stared back. They both knew one of them had to attend the funeral. But the question was: which brother?
Fallon glanced at Ken, who was now spewing out his contents on the pavement again. He looked back at his younger brother. "Go. I'll let you know if anything happens."
Joe swallowed. "I'll be there," he said into the phone before hanging up. He walked up to Fallon, looking at him straight in the eye with a look of determination. "I'm coming back. I'm not abandoning you guys."
"Then you better get going, brother." With one last look, Joe turned around and started walking. "Oh, and Joe?" He glanced back. It was almost as if he had imagined it, but traces of regret seemed to flash in Fallon's eyes. "Tell Rose I'm sorry I couldn't be there."
Joe nodded, his face a mask of several different emotions at once before he disappeared.
Sighing, Fallon tightened his grip on Ken. "Come on, witch." A location had sprung into Fallon's mind. He wouldn't let Ken die in the open here.
~Rose
This funeral was none like any I had ever attended. Instead of churches and eulogies, there were lanterns and eulogies. It took place outside, where everyone would pay respects to the Luna after the lanterns had floated away.
I didn't want to say anything. If I did, I probably wouldn't have been able to keep my eyes dry. But Damien wanted to say something.
He cleared his throat and immediately everyone shut up. I joined the crowd standing below the stage, taking my position in front of my lantern. I held up my lighter and glanced at Matt and Nate next to me. Stoyan was behind me, following everyone else's gaze at their leader.
"About two weeks ago, I met your Luna for the first time." He kept his face void of any emotion, successfully staying strong. "From the moment I looked into her eyes, I knew I would never care for anyone as much as I cared for her. I knew that no one would even come close to her as a person. She may not have been a werewolf, but she was already one of us."
He paused and swallowed, blinking slowly. "I'm not saying I hoped she'd live forever," he said softly. "I just thought I would have more time to get to know her, to make it up to her for being a jacka** and forcefully involving her in my life. And who knows? Maybe even get her to feel the same for me." He stopped staring at our faces and seemed to instead stare past them, not really seeing us at all. "I knew that was impossible, but that didn't stop me. She was so full of life, and so damn stubborn." The crowd gave sad laughs. I snorted too and smiled.
"And I loved that about her. Despite living in danger, the times I spent with her were a few of the best moments I've ever experienced. I've only known her for two weeks, but I know she'll stay with me in my heart forever. And I will cherish those few moments we had together, even if I have to push everyone else away. I will never forget my true Luna. I will never forget Diana Mason. I will remember her name and her soul, and if locking myself up and repeating it over and over again until I forget even my own name is what it takes then so be it. Because I'd die for her."
If this wasn't a funeral, I would have cheered no doubt. His eyes were alight with a fiery spark. It was a heartfelt speech, I knew it. Because I knew her. I still imagined her next to me, probably coming up with some kind of stupid remark to keep the humor in the atmosphere. The thing was, everything he said was true. And I could tell he, despite being a natural enemy, meant every word about his mate. And my best friend.
I held up the lighter and tried to switch it on. I was answered with a few sparks. I growled in frustration and tried again, and again. My eyes welled up and my hands shook. The lighter slipped from my fingers. I bent to pick it up.
Dee...
"Stupid lighter—" I almost shouted. My hands turned cold and clammy, the metal of the lighter caused it to become slippery. I could feel pairs of eyes watching me struggle. Revealing how pathetic I was.
A hand descended onto mine, causing my hand to abruptly stop trembling. It was Joe. I stared at him in amazement. His eyes looked so much like his...Despite Stoyan having the same face, Joe had Fallon's eyes. The exact same ones. It was almost like Fallon was here too.
"Your eyes..." I breathed. Then I regretted it. I was thinking about Fallon, who didn't attend, when it was the younger one who had bothered to show up. I should have been thanking him for being there, not seeing past him and almost hallucinating Fallon despite his absence.
Thankfully, Joe either let it slide or didn't hear me as he slowly took the lighter from me. "I'll do it."
The flame appeared on the first try and he lit the lantern. The sky was already filled with soft orange glows, flying higher and higher into the dark inky sky. They had chosen part of the forest that had less trees deliberately for this part. Damien had offered to let me stand with him on the wooden stage and help him with his own lantern, therefore saving me from this stupid inconvenience with the lighter. I shouldn't have declined.
I settled my hands on either side of the lantern. Joe, in front of it on the other side, mirrored the movement and looked at me. And together, we let it drift up into the sky.
*
With a groan, Ken was lowered to the floor. He slumped against the wall in a sitting position, covered in his own blood. Some dry and sticky, the rest wet and fresh.
They were in a crypt. A few coffins dotted the small square interior of the main part of the building and the door was left open to let the moon evaporate the threatening shadows.
Fallon straightened up again. Abby stared at the resemblance between the two relatives. Fallon's arms and shoulders, bare under his pale dirty green cap sleeve shirt, were very similar in structure to Ken's along with his height. Abby always wondered how it was possible to hate someone so similar to you. His and Stoyan's rivalry was different, but this thought made her ponder.
Could that mean that their relationship couldn't be so bad after all? Despite the fact that Ken had been on the bad side for a while, Abby felt sympathetic towards him. It would break her to see anyone die so helplessly like this without even his own relatives caring.
Fallon dug into his jeans pocket and pulled out his phone, dialed a number and raised it to his ear. He waited for the line to pick up.
About five miles away, Joseph Draganov tore his gaze away from the orange tinted sky and glanced at his phone. "Big Bear" flashed across the screen. He hesitated. Should he answer it?
But then he looked at Rose, with her big brown eyes full of grief. The twins, completely trying to mask their emotions. Stoyan, who closed in on Rose and took her hand gently into his.
The hesitance dissipated. They needed him.
Decidedly, he hit "ignore" and slipped it back into his jeans.
With a hiss, Fallon hung up and looked at the black screen. "He's not answering," he said quietly, almost incredulous. Then he cursed. "That little a** isn't answering!"
Abby, vision already blurry, felt no need to defend him. What was there to say?
"Fallon," Ken croaked. He didn't use his real name. "Just stop," he managed to say before breaking into a coughing fit.
Fallon, till then too absorbed in trying to process the fact that Joe hadn't picked up, was brought back to the current situation by the sound and he lowered his hand to his side, still clutching the device. He knew this was it. Ken's time in this world was about to end. And his brother wasn't even there. All was left was to say goodbye.
"Adrianna's doing this," Abby said venomously. "She's making sure it's slow and incurable just to mess with us." She felt like breaking something.
Ken gave her a weak, lopsided smile. "You know," he spoke slowly. "I never thought I'd receive this much attention from a stranger. It almost makes up for Joseph..."
She averted her gaze. If Fallon was as upset as her, he didn't show it as he grabbed a bottle of alcohol from a shelf. He had left it there the last time he visited. "Drink up, buddy," he told Ken, removing the cork as he sat against the opposite wall of the narrow entrance so that they were eye level with each other. "It will help with the pain."
Ken took a swig from it, wincing at the strong taste. "Have you ever loved someone?" he asked almost in a daze.
"You mean my dumba** of a brother? Yes. Sometimes."
Ken ignored him and seemed to stare past him. "Love is a powerful thing. Sometimes it can consume you without you realizing it until it's too late. And you know you can't have her, because no matter how close she seems she's always just out of your reach. She has her eyes set on someone else. I know it's the same case for you."
A bitter taste formed in Fallon's mouth as Ken dictated familiar feelings. "You're right," he finally answered. "I'm in love with Rose."
Ken seemed to smile. It was obvious it caused him great pain. "Then you know what I'm talking about." His voice was now a throaty whisper.
"I know a thing or two about it."
"That's how I felt about Adrianna. I loved her, so much." His voice was now shaking. Fallon couldn't tell if it was because of the emotions experienced as he relived it or his sickness was getting worse. "I wanted to be with her. Instead she turned to my brother. And I had to watch every sickening moment of them together, the way her eyes lit up every time she saw him. Then she changed.
"And I knew she'd never be the same. So here love is an enemy, because it killed me inside." His eyes shone. "And that pain is what drove me insane. That's why I tried to hunt you down."
Fallon's face darkened. "Is that what you think?" he asked angrily.
"It's what I know, Fallon," he said firmly. "Radko was trying to hunt you guys down for centuries. You always wondered why he didn't try hurting you already? You felt as if you were being protected?"
Fallon remained silent, not bothering to confirm it.
"That was me. Your whole vampire life, I was keeping him from getting to you two." Ken swallowed. "So instead he beat on me. And I happily took it, because it kept you safe."
Fallon shook his head. "You're lying," he growled.
"Did you hear my heart jump?" Ken asked rhetorically. Fallon said nothing, simply stared at him. "You know it's true. You're just denying it because you don't think I'm capable. And I was too cowardly to ever tell you," Ken said, disgusted with himself. "You'd probably hate me."
Fallon was silent for a moment, then looked up with genuine sincerity glittering in his dark eyes. "I could never hate you, Ken."
He looked up at him, brows sunken. "That's impossible."
"I wouldn't lie to a dying man," he said. "But answer me this: why after all these years are you telling me this now?" he asked quietly.
"Because my whole life I have failed you. Both of you. Let me make it right while I still can." He looked him in the eye. "You're my nephews. And I love you."
Something flicked inside Fallon, like a switch. Ken could see his own reflection in his eyes, sad orbs like black ice.
"You have no idea how much I wanted to say that," he continued. "I've always loved you two. Even if I didn't show it." His lip curled. "I need you to remember me like this. Not like the man I was." He leaned closer. "Can you do that? Can you promise me this?"
Fallon didn't respond. After such a revelation, it wasn't fair that he only had minutes left with the new Ken. "Fallon?"
He started nodding. "I promise."
Ken smiled at him. "Joe was supposed to hear this too, though." His eyes turned sad and an empty feeling rose in them. "He was supposed to be here."
He started coughing again into his free hand. Blood spat onto it, dotting his clothes as well. He was fighting to stay alive, Fallon could tell. He never saw anyone fight so hard for their life when they knew it was useless. They were still going to slip away.
It was then Fallon realized how much he had cared for Ken. He could feel his eyes stinging. He blinked the tears away and averted his gaze momentarily. "I'll tell him," he said, hoping it would help. He never was one to take deaths to the heart. So why did it hurt now?
Ken smiled, then suddenly it turned into a contortion of pain. He looked afraid, almost hyperventilating. Fallon's heart leaped and he put a hand on his shoulder. "Ken," he said. He didn't respond. "Ken, it's okay," he assured him in Bulgarian. His native tongue. "You're all right. No one's here."
To his relief, Ken seemed to calm down. He stared at Fallon as if just seeing him for the first time. "Ivailo? What are you doing here?" he asked in the same language.
It was like he had Alzheimers. He had forgotten the last ten minutes they had together. Probably a lot more too. Fallon knew he'd never forget. "Shh, close your eyes Ken. Go to sleep."
"It's bed time?" Ken yawned.
Fallon nodded. "It's bed time."
His eyelids slowly shut, as if he really was going to sleep. Except this one was eternal. But at the last moment, he gave a slight smile and spoke a single word in English as he raised the bottle one last time, hand halting in mid air: "Cheers."
Then it started to fall to the floor.
Fallon had seen it coming and closed his hand over Ken's before the bottle could drop. The liquid swished against the glass but stayed inside.
His uncle had died with his eyes closed, his pale cheeks were still wet. There were trails that washed the blood on his cheeks in their wake. The bruises seemed more vibrant than ever. But the only symbol of his affection for the boy in front of him was the cracked smile at the corner of his lip. He didn't look peaceful, but happy.
He slowly uncurled Ken's lifeless fingers with one hand and replaced them with his own, fingers completely wrapped around the top of the bottle. He removed it from his grasp and sat back on his heels as he stared at Ken in grief with a single thought repeating itself in his mind as a whisper. I'm so sorry I couldn't save you.
He tilted the rim of the bottle towards him. "Cheers to you, Ken." He weighed it in his hand, wavering, then raised it to his mouth and drank.