308- Ashes of Farewell
POV Viktor Averwyn:
“Viktor, son, she will remain under your protection. We will arrange a meeting here, under everyone’s vigilance and protection, so that your daughter and Lucian can get to know each other. After that, we will see about the next times.”
“No.”
Everyone froze at my disrespect, the sharp and direct cut to the ones we were supposed to obey.
Konrad shook his head and that scent came again, even more intensely. It was hard even to think. I wanted to tear his neck open and kick his head out the window like a soccer ball.
“Viktor…” the one without ears began.
“I will not put my daughter’s life at risk.”
“We will be here. We will guarantee her safety,” Aldren said.
“No.”
I started heading toward the door. Lucian roared:
“He can’t leave like this! This spoiled brat is defying your orders!”
“Calm down. Tempers are running too high. Let us make an agreement.” The eyeless one called to me, and I stopped. “Viktor, we will give you two weeks to consider our proposal. Your daughter will not be in danger. Lucian understands that he was rash in ordering the baby killed and that now you have rightful protective feelings toward her. Think carefully, son. We will then hold another meeting, and you will give us your final answer.”
“It’s for the best,” Edric agreed.
The atmosphere turned heavy, tense, on the brink of war. I knew I would not change my mind, but I could buy time and reorganize my strategies. So I agreed:
“I will be here in two weeks.” Before leaving, I turned to Lucian. “What did you do with Vlad?”
“He is dead. If he was capable of betraying you, he would do the same to me.”
I didn’t know whether it was true, but there was nothing more to be done. I left wanting to kill someone.
Preferably Lucian.
(...)
POV Seraphine Valerian:
In times past, all the wakes, burials, and Romani ceremonies followed a certain way. Later, they changed, taking on characteristics from the regions where the people settled.
Before, it would last three days. A musician would play the deceased’s favorite song on the veranda every half hour. People would move through the rooms. The spirit would remain trapped between the world of the dead and the living until it was buried and found its place. This burial would take place along with their favorite belongings and their riches.
It was no longer like that. At least, not there. After many problems, coffins being opened to steal jewelry, things became simpler. One day of funeral, then the body was placed in a coffin and taken outside. The feet went through the door first, so that he would step into a better world with both feet.
He took with him only his clothes and a coin, to pay for passage to another sphere. Then he was lowered into a simple grave with a cross painted on the earth, many flowers on top, and wine poured over it, so that he might be joyful.
We took care of my father’s body. He was washed and anointed with perfumes and herbs. He wore his best clothes. And he lay on the bed, quiet and fragrant, while everyone came to keep vigil and say goodbye.
That day, there was a purple and yellow cross on his veranda, symbolizing mourning. The colors of clothing were replaced by black, women without earrings or adornments, men wearing hats. Prayers and chants were intoned in respect for his important figure.
I was exhausted, twenty-four hours without sleep, tired from crying so much. Surrounded by people I barely knew, but who tried to help and comfort me. When we returned from the burial, there was still dinner, with an empty place at the table, in honor of the dead.
They expected me to be there in the coming months for the Pomana. The repetition of the offering. I was supposed to offer a new dinner, so we could talk about him and remember his importance. But I no longer knew anything, not even what my next step would be.
When everyone left, I refused invitations for any of the women to spend the night with me. I only needed to be alone with my pain and the longing that throbbed without pause.
I locked the door and called my aunt. Gretel comforted me, said kind words, asked me to come back soon. She would take care of me.
That was also what I had promised my father. To leave, as soon as he died. But I could not rush, deny his importance to the clan. The next day there would be more prayers, a bonfire would be made, if I wished to burn his belongings. It was tradition to burn even the dead man’s tent, but since he lived in a house, I had to decide what to send into the fire as purification.
I said goodbye to my aunt, assuring her that I would return soon to Germany, though without certainty. Then I removed my mourning clothes, put on a nightgown, and collapsed in the guest room. Despite the physical and emotional exhaustion, I could not sleep.
I checked the little pouch of herbs under the pillow, as well as the larger dagger and the pepper spray. I wouldn’t even have the strength to use anything if I were attacked. But I obeyed, at least in part, my father’s recommendations.
I cried a lot, until my head hurt. We had so little time!
I regretted having been so obedient. I should have returned sooner, lived a life by his side. Gotten to know better the man I loved and admired so much.
I could no longer envision my future. There, without him? Or in Germany, pretending everything was normal? Both seemed empty, lifeless.
I tossed from side to side. Needing help and comfort. That’s why I called Konrad. It wasn’t midnight yet, maybe he was still awake.
That morning he had stopped the car on the road, asked to speak with me. He comforted me with a hug and words of friendship. Then he left, saying he had an important meeting to attend. But that I should call if I needed anything and that he wanted to see me after the burial.
“Seraphine…” he answered immediately. “How are you?”
“I’m sorry for calling so late.”
“Don’t worry. I was still finishing analyzing some work things. How was the burial? I’m sorry I couldn’t be by your side.”
“Don’t worry. It was sad. Unreal.” I struggled to keep my voice from breaking. “You sound tired.”
“It was a stressful day, but nothing serious. Disagreements at the meeting I told you about. There’s someone there who’s testing everyone’s patience.”
“I hope you’re okay.”
“Yes. And now? Will you be free tomorrow?”
“We’ll have the final farewell rituals until the evening.”
“That’s a shame. I’d like to see you, Seraphine. What if I pick you up when everything is over, take you out of there for a while? It would be good for you to calm down and…”
“It will end late. Could it be the day after tomorrow?”
“Haven’t you decided to return to Germany?”