Penitence (2010) (28 page)

away. I figured hed probably gotten there early, since Bradys mom had asked him to speak today. I also saw Britts white Mustang. She was in the crowd, her white coat stuck out like a snowball in a pile of coal. She stood just outside the grieving huddle beneath the tent. Weston stood not three feet away from her, his tall form easy to spot in the middle of the black-clad bodies gathered under the tent. I got out and headed over. No way was Britt going to play weeping wuss to Weston. Not that he couldnt see her act for what it was. Shed opened his eyes to her performances long before hed had feelings for me. I passed her without saying a word, fully aware that she stared at me. Luke trailed at my elbow. The growing crowd was a mix of family and studentsmost of whom Id partied with over the last three years. I recognized Kevin, seated in the front row of seats next to his mother. His glazed eyes shot to Luke standing behind me, then settled back on the cherry wood casket poised over the deep, dark open grave. A scratch rambled down my spine. My quick glance over the group landed briefly on Chase, standing in the back alone. He averted his eyes. Krissy also stood alone, her gaze downward, her face red, streaming with tears. Weston stood behind the family, now all seated along the front row. His pale face showed signs of sorrow: pink-rimmed brown eyes, tears cresting as if he could barely hold his emotions inside. When he saw me, he moved through the crowd and came to the other side of the grave where Luke and I stood with dozens of others. I wrapped around him and he around me. Im so glad youre here, he spoke against my hair and pulled me tighter. Me, too. We held each other for a few sober minutes. More mourners streamed from their cars, across the snow packed earth, reverently treading around headstones and monuments, their gazes sad, some even curious as they read words etched in stone, on their way to join those gathered to remember Brady. I hope I can do this, Weston whispered, clinging to me. You can. If I can have your attention. A gentle voice parted the intense silence hovering around the grave. Westons arms loosened and I turned, so we stood side-by-side, facing the funeral director in front of us, speaking to Bradys family. Two other carnation-lapelled men flanked his sides. His dark suit and evergreen tie accented his black, pasted hair. Behind silver-rimmed glasses, he had forgettable hazel eyes that looked out over the group in constant, nonspecific motion, as if eye contact would ruin his practiced performance or, heaven help him, create a human connection with the mourners. We will begin the services for Braden Jay Wilcox. The family wishes me to thank you for coming to celebrate the life of their beloved son, and would like us to begin our service with his favorite hymn, Nearer My God to Thee. Weston glanced at me, confusion and surprise on his face. I had no idea Brady had gone to church, let alone had a favorite hymn. Those gathered sung acapella. As the verses progressed, fewer and fewer people sang, their voices drifting into the falling snow at a loss for lyrics. When the last note fell from the air, Bradys mothers sob pierced the hush. She collapsed into her husbands chest, a white handkerchief clutched in her fist against his black lapel. Her other hand remained buried inside a furry muff on her lap. Westons right arm tightened around my waist. Bradens father will now take a moment to share his memories of his son. Mr. Wilcox? The director extended his hand and moved aside. Mr. Wilcox stood, his dark suit collecting giant flakes as if he was being buried alive by snow. The bitter cold seemed to pass by him, even though his breath, like everyone elses, plumed into the air in white clouds. Bradys dad stepped closer to the casket. His dark eyes remained locked on the wooden bed that held his sons body, the carved top bathed in red and white carnations. Behind him, Bradys mom sobbed uncontrollably. I... cant believe Im standing here at your funeral, Brady. That Im burying you. His dads voice shattered into a wrenching moan. Long, painful moments stretched by. I thought of my own parents, and how devastated they would be if they had to bury one of us. How close theyd come to burying me. The strung out line Luke walked on as a drug abuser. Would he stop, seeing how deaths jaws could bite into a family and tear them to pieces? I glanced at him on my right. He stood shivering, eyes on the casket, hands deep in his front pockets. Mr. Wilcox still hadnt said anything more, he simply stood comfortless, staring hopelessly at the long, narrow wooden box that would, within the hour, lower into the black hole. Well miss you, he finally mumbled. As if at a loss for anything more he could squeeze from his heart, he turned and sat down next to Mrs. Wilcox who now sat eerily still, her gaze on Weston. Behind her stood Albert. Next to him, Brady. My pulse iced. How long had they been there? Alberts razor-sharp blue eyes stared into mine, shooting across the site like poisonous arrows. Bradys glare was fastened on Weston. Youre mine, Brady hissed at Weston. Panic grabbed hold of my throat. I couldnt speak. Couldnt even utter a sound. Alberts menacing aura seeped into the icy air, through the falling snow, filling the area with the horrid foreboding I had felt from him before. The next thing I knew, Weston gently eased my arm from his, and he stepped closer to the casket. A chill slapped my body. Weston started talking about Brady, emotion riding his voice, close to bursting. Brady snickered at Westons comments. You always had to be number one! I couldnt believe his threats werent overheard. But my glances around the reverent crowd told me no one heard Brady but me. Bradys hands slipped to his mothers shouldersas though he was caressing her with comfort. But the menacing hissing from his restless, angry soul was not meant to bring peace. With his dark gaze latched to Weston, he stirred Mrs. Wilcoxs fury into a storm that reddened her skin and caused her eyes to bulge with rage. A glint flashed from the mink muff on her lap. Clutched in her right hand was a black pistol. I gasped. Weston continued talking, his gaze on the carnation-bathed casket. Mrs. Wilcoxs hand trembled as the shiny black weapon slowly emerged from the depths of fur. Alberts lips curled up. Bradys wretched caresses grew more intense and Mrs. Wilcoxs furious gaze drew darker, and more savage. I looked left. Right. Then back at Mrs. Wilcox, her white-knuckled hand inching out of the muff, exposing the entire gun. Time stopped. Mr. Wilcox, seeing the gun in his wifes hand, locked his stunned gaze on the weapon, his mouth open. I opened my mouth to scream, saw Westons face when his gaze flashed from me to Mrs. Wilcox. Someone laughed. Albert. Bradys hands pressed down into his mothers shouldersvanishingas if forcing deeper wrath into her torment. Shes going to shoot Weston. I darted in front of Weston. Twenty-Eight The shot rang out and Matthias appeared in front of me. Every motion slowed, along with time. He lifted his hand and the flying bullet hit his palm, dissolving on contact. Our gazes connected. Around him, light radiated in such blinding strength and power I was sure everyone present would melt or vanish. My knees buckled. Westons arms wrapped around me. Pandemonium broke out, like wild animals loose in a zoo. Matthias intense gaze shifted to Albert and Brady, still standing behind Mrs. Wilcox. Alberts wrath bled scarlet up his neck and face, his eyes bulging in fury. Bradys eyes widened and his face froze in shocked fear. Alberts hands shot into the air and dozens of black spirits appeared, swarming around the panicked crowd like raging black birds. Zoe? Westons frightened voice. Adrenalin draining, I peered up at his white face, inches from mine. His grip tightened. Zoe? Snow seemed to envelope me. I cant be dying again. I cant. Matthias, what happened? Zoe? Lukes voice. I closed my eyes against the onslaught of icy flakes and screams. * * * I opened my eyes to a protective awning of bodies and peering faces. I lay on one blanket, covered by another. Snow still fell in a blinding curtain from the sky, coating everyone who stood over me. Clattering voices filled the air. Sirens. Rumbling diesel engines. Westons brown eyes were crimped in anguish. Two paramedics flanked me. One probed my abdomen, the other wrapped a blood pressure band around my arm, and the vise grip slowly grew tight. Zoe, Weston choked out. Luke crouched next to him, his features taut with concern. Jeez, Zoe. He thrust his hands into his now soaking wet hair. Icy air wracked my body with shudders. Youre going to be okay, Weston said. What happened? my voice barely scratched out. The bullet missed you, Luke said. Id seen the bullet traveling in slow motion toward Weston, thats why Id stepped in front of him. Then Matthias had appeared. Matthias? I choked out, trying to sit up. Luke glanced around. Hes not here. Weston, too, stole a quick look around the cemetery. Please stay still, the EMT taking my blood pressure demanded. Weston exchanged glances with Luke. Zoe? Chase. How long had he been there? Krissy. Britt. Faces I knew, others I did not suddenly appeared hovering over me. Thank God shes okay. Britt held her hands to her chest as if in prayer. Her gaze hopped from me to Weston, whose eyes never left me. Would you like to sit up? The EMT taking my blood pressure released the band around my arm and set it aside. I nodded. He and Weston drew me upright. The police officer reappeared, broke through the tight circle of bodies and handed the EMT another blanket, which was wrapped around me. The fabric was heavy, but cold as the air, so it didnt do much to warm my trembling limbs. Youre a lucky girl. The officer remained, and towered over the circle. Matthias? I looked around for Luke, but he had gone, and I couldnt see him through the bodies mulling. I saw the gun and... Weston reached for my hand and held it between both of his. My spine trembled. She was going to kill you. I couldnt I know. Westons fingers touched my lips. Zoe, you... saved my life. The freak, Britt snapped. That woman deserves to be in jail. Sitting eerily motionless on Britts back was a black spirit. At her own sons funeral! What a loser! Miss, youre free to step aside now. The police officers bark allowed plenty of room for the annoyance he carried at Britts cold comment. My best friend was just shot by a psychotic loser, Im not leaving her! She was not leaving Weston was more accurate. Im so glad you werent injured, Chases face was tight with concern. He crouched closer. They cant find the bullet, he whispered. They... cant? I muttered around a lump in my throat. I really wanted to see where Matthias was. If Albert was gone. If hed taken Brady with him. Im going to stand up now. Take it slow and easy, the EMT said, grasping my right arm. Weston took my left and the two of them helped me to my feet. No woozy feeling. My legs were strong. I let out a sigh, grateful. Standing gave me my first opportunity to get a good look around. Five police cars, an ambulance, and a fire truck. Wow. No one was under the tent, the seats empty. The casket still sat over the open grave. A pit opened in my stomach. What a horrible day this had turned into. I gazed up into Westons face. Are you okay? Youre asking me? You were the one who almost got hit. Im fine. Im standing, right? She was aiming at you. He closed his eyes. The officer stepped closer to us. You two can sit in the back of my car if youd like some privacy. Its warm in there. He nodded in the direction of an idling black and white police vehicle. Thanks, we will. Westons hand slipped around me and he led me across crunching snow to the car. I stole a glance at Chase, Brittthe stony black spirit still perched on her back and Krissy who remained solitary, hunched in a long camel coat, watching me. In the distance, my eye caught Lukes blond hair. He stood talking to Kevin, whose face was red, eyes weepy, shoulders hunched. Luke glanced around, reached into his front pocket and passed something to Kevin. Could he really be giving Kevin drugs with the place buzzing with police? I wanted to storm over there and shake the two of them, but didnt dare draw attention to what I was certain had been an exchange. Id talk to Luke later. In another idling cop car sat Mrs. Wilcox, her body crumpled against the closed door. Her husband stood next to the vehicle, jittery, talking with an officer. I craned my head around the buzzing area for a glimpse of Matthias but I didnt see him or Albert. Or Brady. I shook, thinking how close Id just come to being killed. My eyes closed in a silent prayer of gratitude for Matthias. Weston helped me into the backseat of the warm, idling police car and I tilted my head back, ready to dissolve into the safety of police protection. The door shut, then the other passenger door opened and the car rocked when Weston got inside. I was so cold. My body wouldnt warm in spite of the blanket around my shoulders. Weston sat with his elbow propped in the door window, his long fingers at his tense mouth as he gazed out. His right hand sat on the bench, in the empty space between us and I reached out and placed my hand over his. He looked at me. He was paper white and ice cold. His hair and clothing were wet from melting snow. Are you okay? I asked softly. Ishe planned this. I cant believe it. She asked me to speak and planned on shooting me with the gun. I... I cant believe it. I squeezed his hand, seeing Bradys imagestanding behind his motherin my head. I know. Its... unbelievable. I didnt know what else to say. The day, if it was even possible, had gotten worse by the minute. Do you think anyone else knew? I asked. While Id been out of it, had I missed any facts coming to light? He shook his head, then leaned back against the seat, eyes closing, his hand turning upright, gripping my palm. Mr. Wilcox seemed as shocked as everyone else was. He let out a sigh. His eyes met mine. They didnt find the bullet, Zoe. I nodded. Matthias stopped it. The corner of Westons jaw shifted. You saw it? It was so amazing, like everything slowed down. I saw the bullet flying... in the air. Then, Matthias appeared, took it in his hand like it was nothing, and the bullet dissolved on contact in his palm. Westons eyes widened. Wow, his tone was full of awe and respect. Three news vehicles sped to the site and screeched to a stop. Weston sat up. Oh man. Soon, cameramen and reporters headed in the direction of the scene. An officer stopped the eager group in their tracks and talked to them, keeping them from further progressing near the gravesite. The reporters immediately threw questions at the deputy. What a mess, I mumbled. Westons expression was a mix of disbelief and fascination. His hand remained tight around mine, as if grasping every element of peace that he could.