Wise Men

Chapter 13

 The funeral was scheduled just a few days later. Revelin let a limousine come to get us. He had his arm lightly around Vi's waist like he owned her. His very posture was too straight to be comfortable and too composed to be that of a grieving man; but I had not seen him in the throes of his sorrow and could not remark on the turmoil that must have been behind the trained mask.

 The spacious limo had enough refreshments for a party and none of the somber atmosphere that a funeral required. Vi looked out of place in her modest black dress and black veil, as did Revelin in his muted suit and tie. I can't say I was as well dressed as either of them, but there was no way in hell my hobbling self was dressed for a gala. They didn't say a word on the way to the funeral, though I expect any word that could have been said in the many nights they spent together. I decided early on not to intrude on that and paid more attention to the throb of my ankle than their romance.

Revelin exited first and helped Vi out. I followed behind them, doing my best not to limp. There was already a group of people waiting either outside or inside the grand church. The early morning sun heating the black of their suits and dresses, the woman beat at fans and the men tried their best to look presentable as they sweated. Apparently it was worth it to get the first crack at the young heir.

The crowd was wary, however. The intense gaze of the man they hadn't seen in year must have strengthened from his earlier youth—he was a stranger to them, one that they did not know how to approach, afraid even to look into those green eyes that could peer into their very soul.

I can't say I stayed very close either.

Vi kept him close rather than the other way around. She never left his side, her back straight and her chin high as though she'd been a high society lady for her entire life, accustomed to and dreading the diamond encrusted and debonair atmosphere that surrounded them like the plague.

The caskets rested at the foot of the altar. The crowd inside had not dared to approach the bodies before Revelin. They stayed in the back, his extended relatives, family friends, and associated leeches hoping to siphon his new-found fortune, none of which were mutually exclusive. The air was strained through a colander of muted whispers and colored light falling through large stained glass windows, supported by sweeping buttresses. Many passed me a pointed glare, wondering why some college student in a cheap suit could have access to the funds of the new Mister Lesage. When all but one was watching me I deftly gave him the finger. Unfortunately, the action vaguely reminded me of Fae and my mood plunged.

We were the first to walk up the aisle. From behind, I saw a ghostly wedding, light like cobwebs, a dress dark like the night and a suit to match. I was the ethereal best man with loyalty unshaken by dust and ash.

A priest stood between the caskets, as inviting as the cold bodies on display with wounds expertly sewn together and covered in white foundation. His girth looked as though it sinned twice over and his cold eyes thanked Revelin for the money the funeral brought in.

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted,” he said, a smile filled his smile but did not wrinkle his eyes. “Master Lesage, be content in the Lord's love and his forgiveness. Remember that God looks favorably on the generous few.”

I was about to tell the avaricious priest to go fuck himself, but Revelin silenced me with a wave of his hand. He smiled, what on the surface would have been kind, but anyone who saw his eyes would see the fierce lion baring his teeth. “Please, give me a few minutes in private.”

He turned to his mother first, his hands gripping the edge of the casket like a bird of prey on its perch. Suddenly, he fell forward as though sobbing and ran his hand through his blond hair. Vi looked at me, questions in her eyes, and wondering what he was up to. Playing along, she pretended to comfort him. His shoulders shook with fake sobs.