Chapter 187

Agnes & Elijah

Agnes

The casket was tiny. Too tiny.

I stared blankly as it was slowly lowered into the ground. The small clearing was quiet except for the soft rustling of the wind through the leaves.

Ever since Elijah had convinced me to hold a funeral, I’d been in a haze. He and James had handled most of the details, which I’d been grateful for. The thought of picking out caskets and flowers and headstones for my baby had been too overwhelming.

I hadn’t expected so many people to come. Mourners from all over the pack had turned up, filling the small clearing. Some I recognized—Evelyn, Maria, Gertrude, other women from my work, several other Lunas, and Beta James standing respectfully at attention.

Others were strangers to me, pack members who had begun supporting my search in recent history or who had simply come to pay their respects.

I hardly noticed any of them, though. Not even Elijah’s steady hand on my back registered fully in my consciousness. All I could see was that tiny casket and the tattered bunny I’d placed inside it alongside the small bones we’d found in the cave. The bones that DNA had confirmed belonged to Isabella.

My baby. My daughter. Gone forever.

Suddenly, a gentle tug on my hand pulled me back to reality. I blinked, turning to find Elijah looking at me.

“It’s time to go inside for the memorial,” he said softly.

I glanced around, surprised to find that we were alone. Goddess, I hadn’t even noticed them leave. How long had I been standing here, staring at the grave?

I nodded stiffly, unable to speak.

When we arrived, the parlor was already filled. People had gathered in small groups, holding plates of finger foods and glasses of wine or coffee.

“Do you want me to get you something?” Elijah asked softly.

“Gin and tonic,” I replied automatically. I needed something stronger than wine today.

Elijah nodded and made his way toward the bar. I remained where I was, standing awkwardly near the entrance as people glanced in my direction. They were looking at me. Waiting to see if I was going to collapse or something.

I felt like an animal in a zoo.

A few minutes later, Elijah returned with my drink, pressing the cool glass into my hand. I took a large swallow, grateful for the sharp tang of alcohol on my tongue.

“Do you want to sit down?” he asked, gesturing toward some empty chairs along the wall.

I shook my head. “I’m fine here.”

He didn’t press the issue, instead remaining at my side as various mourners approached to offer their condolences. I responded to their kind words with mechanical nods, but their faces blurred together.

One thing that I noticed, however, was the fact that my family hadn’t deigned to show up. My father had wanted me to call him to “talk”, but of course he wasn’t here for me when my child’s remains had been lowered into the ground.

Fucker.

As the crowd thinned slightly, a familiar figure approached me. It was the pregnant girl from the day we found the bones—Tara, I remembered. Her baby bump was more pronounced now, straining against the fabric of her black dress.

“Luna Agnes,” she said, approaching hesitantly. “I made something for you.”

She held out a necklace—a polished white stone bound with twine, a single, tiny feather tied to the knot. It was pretty.

“In my mother’s religion,” Tara explained, “they believe that infants who pass away become spirit guides for their mothers. They never truly leave us; they stay at our side, guiding us and bringing us good luck. They wait for us until it’s our time to pass, and then they greet us in the afterlife so we can be reunited again.” She pressed the charm into my palm. “This is to help you connect with her, to feel her presence.”

I stared at the small charm, touched by the gesture but also a bit wary. The idea of Isabella as my spirit guide, never leaving my side, always watching over me—it should have been comforting.

All I could think was that my baby never got to rest. Never got to be at peace. Instead, she was tethered to me forever.

“Thank you,” I managed to say, closing my fingers around the charm. “It’s very thoughtful.”

Tara beamed, clearly pleased that her gift had been accepted. She moved away, rejoining a small group of younger pack members near the refreshments table.

I slipped the charm into my pocket, feeling the weight of it against my thigh for a brief moment before the haze overtook me again.

…

Elijah

I sighed heavily. For the third time this week, Olivia had requested to speak with me, and for the third time, I was denying her.

“Tell her I’m done with her games,” I told James curtly. “Unless she has actually helpful information about Agnes’s wolf or the curse, I’m not speaking to her. And I doubt she does, or she would have used it as leverage by now.”

“Understood, Alpha,” James replied with a nod. “I’ll inform her.”

Once he was gone, I leaned back in my chair and rubbed my temples. The funeral had been draining for everyone, but especially for Agnes. She’d been moving through the past few days like a ghost.

I’d hoped the ceremony would help her begin to process her grief, but so far, it seemed to have only deepened her withdrawal.

The funeral and the memorial had ended hours ago. Agnes had gone to bed before the last guests had left, and last I checked on her, she was napping—still in her funeral clothes, her brow furrowed even in sleep.

Glancing out the window, I noticed a small light flickering in the distance now, near the fresh grave we’d just left hours earlier. A candle, perhaps, or a small lantern. I sighed once more.

Agnes must have returned to the gravesite the moment she woke up from her nap.

Not wanting her to be alone for long, I grabbed my jacket from the back of a chair, then grabbed the cardigan she usually wore around the house. The night had turned cold, and she’d been wearing only a thin black dress for the funeral.

The clearing was eerily quiet as I approached. Agnes had chosen a pretty willow tree to bury her baby under, nestled in a copse of trees that was visible from the house. It was a good spot. If I had been in her position…

I hated to think about burying Thea, but if I had to, Goddess forbid, I would have chosen this location too.

Agnes was sitting cross-legged at the foot of the grave, her black dress pooling around her. She didn’t look up as I approached, didn’t give any indication that she’d heard my footsteps on the grass.

And the light…

“Agnes!” I said, rushing forward. I stomped my foot on a small flame that had begun to burn in the grass, putting it out, then whipped my head toward her. There were no candles, no matches… “Did you do this?”

She didn’t respond, didn’t move. Just shivered in the cold.

My shoulders slumped, all thoughts of her strange abilities slipping from my mind. All that mattered right now was getting her comfortable so she didn’t burn the house down.

Crouching, I draped the sweater around her shoulders. “Agnes. You’re freezing.”

She raised her eyes to mine then, and the emptiness in them sent a chill through me. “She’s really gone,” she whispered. “All these years, I kept hoping. But she’s really gone.”

“I know.” I knelt beside her, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I’m so sorry.”

“She was so tiny,” Agnes continued. “So perfect. Her little fingers, her little toes. She only smiled at me once, you know. Just once, before…” Her voice cracked, fresh tears spilling over. “They say babies that young don’t really smile, that it’s just a reflex. But I know what I saw. She smiled at me.”

My chest tightened.

“I believe you,” I said, because what else could I say? What words could possibly comfort a mother mourning the child that had been ripped from her arms?

Agnes didn’t seem to hear me. She spread her fingers, staring at her burnt palm. “I should have protected her,” she whispered. “I should have known something was wrong, should have woken up when someone came into our apartment. What kind of mother sleeps through her baby being stolen?”

“Agnes, no,” I said firmly, taking her ice-cold hands in mine. “What happened wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known.”

She said nothing else. Just shivered and kept staring at the fading burn marks on her hand as if silently willing them to start another fire.

“Come on,” I said gently. “Let’s get you inside. You’re going to make yourself sick out here.”

When she didn’t respond, I carefully slid one arm under her knees and the other around her back, lifting her from the ground. She didn’t resist as I scooped her up and carried her away.