Chapter 138

Almara’s Pov

It’s been a week since Bess’s euthanizing, which means it’s been a week without joy. Even Grace seems to hold this vague sadness inside her, as if knowing if not for the life of Bess then she wouldn’t be here either.

Though it breaks my heart to see, I can’t help but marvel as the wisdom that seems to be imprinted on her soul, a piece of Bess herself.

Today in particular is the crux of sadness and acceptance as we attend Bess’s funeral as family. I always figured Arthur and my first outing with Grace would be happier and certainly not quite as important. I assumed our first outing would be normal, at least normal enough to get buried beneath the rest of our many days ahead.

I almost want to apologize to Grace for what her first outing is as I button her fluffy black dress, but doing so almost feels disrespectful. Besides, something tells me that Grace actually doesn’t mind. I catch myself in this line of thinking and wonder if I’ve gone crazy. Can Grace really be rationalizing any of this?

Thank goodness Arthur walks into the bedroom to pull me out of my thoughts. “You look handsome.” I tell him for about the fifth time today. He’s in a tailored black suit adorned with gold cufflinks, a slick black tie, and the waves of golden hair have been smoothed over.

“And you, beautiful. As always.” Arthur says, taking my hand and kissing it like a gentlemen. I know that he’s sincere, but that doesn’t bring the shine back into his eyes. He and Roman were the only ones who attended Bess’s killing.

They brought a body guard with them, but when he came home I knew it was more than just his physical body that needed to protection. I don’t think his heart was guarded and it suffered a great wound, it still does. I see it in the way he stops mid task and gets a faraway kind of look, or when he smiles but the happiness doesn’t reach his eyes.

I knew he would come back from the vampire bite, but this has be more worried. Arthur assures he will be okay, fully acknowledging that right now he isn’t. He needs time and quite frankly, I think a trip away is needed more now than ever. Though I don’t mention it, not when he’s already been living elsewhere in his head.

I watch as he walks up to the gold mirror to touch up his hair. After a few adjustments, his arm falls limp and he seems to freeze in place. I quietly come up behind him and rap my arms around his waist. Instantly I feel his body soften, his shoulders slump, and a small exhale escape his lips.“We’ll get through this.” I tell him. He turns around and hugs me back.

“I know. Honestly, I’m glad this is happening today.” Arthur says and I don’t say anything back, quietly willing him to say more.

Arthur hasn’t told me much about what he and Roman saw that day, to be honest I don’t know if I could handle it, but I’ve been piecing together bits of that event like a puzzle. Unfortunately, the picture isn’t pretty. “If you saw how they treated her.” He trails off and shakes his head, blowing out some hot air. “Today is about paying the respect that she deserves.”

“Absolutely.” I agree.

Not much more than an hour later the limo drops us off at the ceremony site. The door is opened and we step out to an open field with tall weeping willows, some that are white and some that are green. Rows of hundreds of seats have been lined, some already seated by guests.

There’s a cobblestone walk way that we’re escorted to. I glance over my shoulder and on the other side of the road is the media mob being closely monitored by security. Thankfully distance, the wide open space, and stringing of violins makes it near impossible to hear their questions.

The further we make our way into the service the more enclosed I feel by the sadness. People come up and give their condolences, I recognize none of them though they all know my name. Still, Arthur introduces me and Grace. Eventually, everyone becomes a black veiled blur.

We find ourselves seated at the front row, and though I’m aware of everyone’s eyes on our backs my only focus is on the closed casket a mere feet away. I mostly zone out and reflect on my time with Bess and how I wish I told her more often how much she meant to me. Though, I know she knows.

It’s not until Arthur stands on the small stage, in front of the podium and next to an enlarged poster of Bess in her youth that my attention is captivated again. He clears his throat and the microphone gives a light whistle.

“My grandmother,” He begins, his voice catching in his throat which makes my heart leap into mine. “Is more than her famous accomplishments that I am honored to carry not just in my name, but in my blood. She is family, yet she is also more than that.” Arthur takes a breath and looks out in the crowd.

We lock eyes and I give a loving smile. He pauses and when he smiles back, something in him changes, like the ice is melting. He crumples up his speech and starts again.

“She was the peace in the middle of a family fight, the strength when I was a scared boy. The valuable lessons, the funny moments, she is the heart that pumps in me.” The way Arthur carries himself throughout the speech is like no other time I’ve seen him.

He’s his words carry passion yet reveal his vulnerability which is exactly what makes him appear so strong in this moment. He continues on in this motivating yet comforting speech and when he concludes the entire crowd is moved in ways I don’t think they expected to me.

One couple is speaking to Arthur and I, but this woman standing off to the side keeps capturing my attention. Even Lily has her ears perked, but the woman isn’t saying anything. She’s standing under a willow tree with streaks of sunlight filtering through the branches and hitting her in jagged lines.

Eventually the couple leaves and Arthur whispers in my ear if I’m okay, but I nudge him in the direction towards the woman who’s now coming our way.

“Hello, my name is Christina Tarr. I’m a very old friend with your grandmothers.” She externs her hand and Arthur shakes it while I stand in lost in a trance trying to remember why I know that name.

At risk of coming off suspicious, I take her hand in greeting and I’m surprised to feel how frail she feels beneath her silk gloves compared to the strength in her voice.

When I look into her icy blue yes, I suddenly remember who she is. Her name was in the contact list we found in Bess’s shop. She’s the one Roman called a traitor, yet supplied the Quartz Dust from the Soul Plant.

She helped saved Arthur’s life and now she’s here. I pretend that I don’t recognize her name and follow Arthur’s lead until we can uncover more of what it is she wants.

“Thank you for coming.” Arthur says as he’s been telling all the guest, though not in an automated way as he’s been doing. No, this time there’s curiosity in his gratitude.

“I can heal Robert’s affliction of being both wolf and vampire.” Christina says without missing a beat. Arthur pulls his hand back.

“Who are you?” He asks again, clearly not interested in the woman’s name alone. Christina smiles, though it’s not wicked like Delfino’s or even attempting to conceal a hidden motive. Her smile is sweet and full of life, like Bess’s.

“Perhaps we should go somewhere to talk.”