They all stared at his headstone for what seemed like a lifetime, each wrapped up in their own thoughts, none of them ready to say their goodbyes. Wind moaned and bellowed through the ruins, rattling the broken stained glass windows of the long forgotten chapel. It set Quinn on edge, and she shuffled her feet and stared at the ground, afraid that if she looked at anyone, she would crack into a million pieces.
Marcus was the first to break the silence. Shoulders heaving, he stiffly stepped forward to face Aaron’s memorial and fell to his knees. Tremors rocked his hands; his chin trembled as he pursed his full, dark lips. Reese trembled with him, patting his shoulder, running a finger through his dark, wiry hair, whispering, soothing even as her own emotions got the best of her. Quinn bit her lip and sniffed. No crying allowed. This was a memorial and nothing more. No body, no casket, no internment.
When Jenna began singing “What If You,” one of Aaron’s favorite songs, in tribute, her clear, rich alto tones wrapped around Quinn’s heart and tugged hard. Blood, metallic and warm on her tongue, trickled from the side of her mouth where her teeth tore at her inner cheek. Each note crumbled a little more of her resistance. Aaron should be singing with Jenna, catching the harmony and weaving through the music, perfect partners. He’d survived the car crash that killed his mother and sister, survived an attempted suicide, only to drown for the sake of saving her. An ultimate act of heroism she didn’t deserve. And worse, he died not knowing how she really felt. Empty grave, empty soul.
A wail erupted from Marcus’s throat that echoed through Quinn’s bones. She wanted to comfort him, share his pain, but something held her back. No right to mourn with him when she was the reason for his torment.
Jenna knelt on the other side of Marcus, linking her arm with Reese’s around his back, finishing the song in soft overtones into his ear, the three of them freely mourning. They didn’t invite her into their grief, and she didn’t intrude. Instead, she stood apart, an outsider.
“This isn’t your fault.” Jenna directed her statement to Marcus, but something about the way she stressed the word your, made Quinn squirm. Jenna didn’t have to say it. Quinn knew perfectly well whose fault it was.
“Jenna’s right. You did everything you could to save him.” Reese stroked his back and kissed his cheek. “Quinn’s here because of you. We could have lost them both. You’re a hero.”
Quinn wanted to say something, to agree, but every time she started to speak, her mouth turned dry as burnt toast.
Marcus shook his head and balled his fist. “I’m no hero.” He pulled something shiny from his suit pocket, a round golden medal on a red ribbon. His hand shook as he rubbed his swimming champion medallion between his thumb and finger. “He’s the true hero.” He placed the trophy next to the guitar pick.
“You’re both heroes,” Jenna added, looking sidelong at Quinn through long, dark eyelashes.
Quinn didn’t know what they wanted her to say, didn’t even know what she wanted to say, so she stared at the ground instead. Words, thoughts, feelings jumbled up inside her, and she didn’t know how to start piecing them together. Her head throbbed, and she rubbed the scab of her healing scalp wound.
Chaos and tragedy had engulfed her friends while she was stuck between, unconscious in this realm and listening to Azrael drone on about destiny and choice in another. Every precious second she wasted debating on that rock, Aaron struggled to keep her afloat, his energy draining away, fighting for his life while she selfishly debated if she had anything left to live for.
I’ll never forget the desperation in Marcus’s screams. Reese’s words echoed through her soul, and she choked back a sob.
Regret flowed through her, pumping her heart full of “what if’s.” If she could go back and trade her life for Aaron’s, she would. She should have been the one washed out to sea. It had been her death wish, her selfishness that killed him. Aaron was gone. Quinn ached at the thought. He left a gaping hole inside her that only he could fill. She loved him, and he would never know it.
“Aaron,” Quinn whispered his name as benediction, tears springing unbidden and down her cheeks. All the placating words in the world couldn’t bring him back now.
Clouds passed across the sun. Quinn shivered and drew her scarf tighter around her neck. Something tugged at the edge of her consciousness. The sense of Aaron’s presence overwhelmed her, and she turned.
A shadow, long and dark, moved within the ruins of the old, gothic church, twisting and writhing, taking shape.
Azrael’s wings unfurled, and his fingers hovered over the grip of his swords. What do you see? he asked, and she sensed his confusion. It was invisible to him then. Strange. Pressing her finger to her lips, she shushed her Sentinel and crept closer.
“Quinn?” Reese and Jenna both stood, questioning. It was the first time they’d acknowledged her, but she didn’t care. There was only one person in the cemetery she wanted to see right now. Walking right past them, she followed the dark mass weaving between the crumbling markers. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she fought to keep her barrier intact, but the light waxed and waned as the shadow grew closer. Something about it seemed familiar. The light barrier she’d constructed around her pulsed as the thing glided past her to stand behind Marcus.
Quinn’s defenses throbbed again, and as she approached, the shape began to reinvent itself. First came two legs to stand on, then hips, torso, two arms. A long neck surged upward and bounced back like a rubber man, snapping into human shape. One she recognized. She stripped her psychic armor down to nothing. She didn’t care; she had to see him, all of him.
With a flicker, the shadow changed from gray to full color, dark hair, green eyes, rugged face twisted in pain. Had he come to mock her? An angry ghost seeking revenge on her for his death? He reached for her. Ropes tightened around her chest, and she dared not breathe.
“What’s going on?” Reese tapped her foot and glared at Quinn.
“I see him, Reese.”
“Who?” Reese asked.
“Aaron,” she whispered and reached a hand to him. “He’s here.”