Children of the Fallen: Bloodlines (BOOK #3)

Chapter 65: Wooden Boxes

Chloe Whitlock

Victoria is dead. A sentence I never thought would be true. Yes, there are things that can kill us but we're immortal. Victoria was immortal.

It all happened so quick. We had won, we killed Azrael, the rest retreated, everything was great. We should've been mourning those lost while we celebrate the win but instead I've spent this last day coming to terms with the fact that my oldest friend was going to die.

Now she's dead and it's... it doesn't feel real.

Normally High Royals are put in their palace's crypt down below but since she told us to burn her and Pierce, we'll do as she says before any Fallen could object, telling us to abide by tradition. Though, I guess now Morgan and I are on the same level of power as them so we could do whatever we want.

I remember years and years ago, she drunkenly ranted to me about how the crypts freak her out, specifically the skeletons. Then immediately told me, "Do not tell another soul, Whitlock." Promptly getting up and leaving. Back then, any show of warmth from her, and by warmth I mean any conversation in which she revealed anything about herself was followed by an intense stoniness. Even them, I never took it personally which with anyone else I probably would have. I don't know what it was but with her I felt comfortable around her even with the stony demeanor. I would laugh it off and tuck away the little factoids she would give me about her every now and then.

Xavier, the worker at the morgue and when we showed up with Victorias body telling him her wishes. He himself had tears in his eyes as nodded. He laid her down on that metal slab to be pushed into the incinerator. Morgan looked down, unable to watch even just her body being placed on the slab.

As for Lucien, Morgan dragged his corpse past the barrier into the woods, to "let the animals tear him apart." Though she tore his head from his body tossing it in a random direction for good measure. Then spit on the remaining body before walking away.

While we waited for the others to arrive, Morgan and I sat outside of the morgue while their bodies reduced to ash. The day was overcast, about to start storming so while the sun made it uncomfortable outside, Morgan didn't want to leave but she didn't want to be inside the morgue. Neither did I until the worker told us it would take some time for it to be done.

We got into a car having to find Mica for the keys. Having to briefly inform him what happened to Victoria. Morgan drove for a while in silence, leaning her elbow on the siding of the car, not rubbing but resting her hand on her neck. We arrive in a cemetery, unsure why but Morgan was looking at the signs, clearing searching for something in particular. Finally, she parks and gets out. Following as she slows in front of a set of graves.

Closer to them, I could make out the names:

Laura Sinclair

Will Sinclair

Christopher Sinclair

And on the end, next to Laura, her mothers' grave was a gravestone that read:

Morgan Sinclair

Sister, Daughter, Friend

2001-2029.

"Lindsey was flown back to Michigan," she explained. "I was pronounced dead in 2029," she says looking down at her grave. Lifting her hand out to motion to it, she dropped it back down at her sides. Then, uncomfortable she crossed her arms. "It's surreal."

"You've never seen this before?"

She shakes her head, no. "I figured I would've been pronounced dead at some point, but I only found out about the grave through Lindsey's journals. My mom didn't want it. Didn't see the point in having an empty grave."

She presses her fingers down on the fabric of her jacket. "I send money to Chris' wife every month, same with Lindsey's husband. Her kids' college fund, whatever it may be, but that doesn't fix this..." she exhaled deeply. "Too many people have died, I'm sick of it."

"I know."

Absentmindedly, she nods. Staring down at her own grave, empty, and untruthful. Then her family's graves, not vacant and her jaw clenches tightly. Guilt overwhelming her eyes as she fixated on each of them. The both of us stand silently in the slightly wet grass from the short rain shower before. The breeze rustled the trees around us, sending our hair waving around in it. The grayness in the sky truly befitted the day.

She comments, "Avery is a spitting image of Lindsey."

"You've seen her?"

"I would spend my birthdays watching my house. Depressing I know, but for my mom they still gathered every year. Avery and Colton would be there. Never up close and personal. Never speaking to them. I don't want any of them, especially those kids associated with me or anything preternatural in any way." Her throat bobbed before she adds, "Any more than they already have. The only way to ensure that is if I'm nowhere near them."

I stretched my arm out, wrapping it around her. The hesitance I would've felt doing this merely a few weeks ago wasn't present. "I'm sorry," she tells me.

"For what?"

"You've known Victoria for centuries."

Just when I thought I had finished crying, the tears came back. "I'll miss her." I say resting my head on her shoulder.

"Me too." She rests her head on of mine.

*****

On the flight back to Morgan's palace we sat with a small wooden box on each of our laps in pensive silence. Pierce in mine and Victoria in hers. Two people, walking around, living now reduced to ashes in a box. We weren't sure what to do with their ashes. Where to put them. Before we choose something we thought we'd wait a little to make that decision.

Stepping back into Morgan's palace, the blood coating the floors and walls had been cleaned up but the damage and debris to walls and furniture and such still remained. Grayson appeared before us instantly and collected Morgan in his arms. Seconds later, Sterling padded in. She and I embraced each other, her eyes bloodshot telling me she's been crying. She wasn't lying when she said after Azrael was dead she could mourn, it was practically the second he died she shut down. She got through the rest of the fighting then just broke down in tears. I feel bad that she's here comforting me, but I think we can comfort each other through this.

"Are you alright?" I ask her as we step back.

She nods. "I'm alright. My father just left with Reid. We'll have a memorial for him later in the week."

Morgan nuzzles into Graysons arms, her breathing far too controlled, as if manual. She's barely keeping it together but I believe the amount of crying she's done over this past day and in front of people has made her incredibly uncomfortable, worsening this horrible situation for her. She stepped back, holding tightly to the small box like it would be taken from her.

Grayson keeps a hand brushing up and down on her arm. "I know it wasn't long but how was everything here?"

"It was okay. We were cleaning, once we got most of the blood out I told everyone to go home, sleep, rest." Then he says, "The Fallen want to have another meeting in a few weeks."

Morgan nods, absentmindedly, then her eyes clear. "I have to make a call for plaques," she says almost robotically as she holds up the box, jerking her chin towards the one in my hand. "For her palace. I'll put them somewhere. I don't know where yet."

"Okay. Let's make a call." With his arm around her, Grayson and her walk off. The former, looking over his shoulder with a sympathetic smile. 

I return one to my brother before turning back to Sterling. Her deep brown eyes glassy but still as beautiful as ever. "Do you need anything?" I ask, taking her warm hands in mine. 

"Just you," the words left her mouth so quickly, so immediate it warmed my chest. "What about you?" 

"The same."