Taking Light {Sequel: "For Love of Evil"}

-7-

"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid."

Lyra closed her eyes, listening to the catholic priest give her mother's eulogy. She was surprised that Roman had let her go - he had been unusually distant since Peter's unexpected arrival. It pained Lyra more than just about anything. But she stood strong through it all.

Now that she had seen her mother's body - seen the actual hole that went six feet into the ground, Lyra suddenly wasn't so strong.

Her mother was no longer on earth, only her body remained. Lyra had seen for herself what was on the other side; black oblivion. An empty vessel of nothingness. No heaven - no hell.

The concept was always puzzling, considering that Lyra herself was from something other than this world. If monsters were real, how could God not be?

Tears began to brim Lyra's eyes; she was losing it. Her sanity was fading away as well as her hope for anything more from Roman than coldness.

She felt alone - unable to read anyone's mind or feel anything other than her own emotions. There was nothing to take her mind off the deepening depression she couldn't find her way out of. In a way, it was like death - darkness. Only living was worse; there was pain to go with it.

A warm hand slid into hers, causing Lyra's eyes to shoot open and sniffle back fallen tears. Her eyes trailed to the hand in hers; a ring for nearly every finger - nails subtly long.

Lyra looked over to see who was standing beside her. Her eyes went wide when seeing that it was Peter. A remorseful smile went to his lips; his head turning to the direction of the coffin.

"So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand."

The verse seemed fitting. Peter gave Lyra's hand a gentle squeeze, keeping his eyes forward. Lyra did the same, looking to the box that held her mother's body, Mary.

When the small crowd of grievers were dismissed, Peter let go of Lyra's hand. He scratched his head awkwardly, trailing his hand to his patchy beard. He could smell the lotion lingering on his skin from Lyra's hand; the smell sweet and something of melon.

They started toward the asphalt path lined with cars, passing through tombstones. Peter followed closely behind, every so often resting his hand on Lyra's back for comfort. Lyra stopped in front of a tall oak tree, leaning her back against the bark.

"Thank you for being here." Lyra tried expressing her gratitude the best she could.

"Any time." Peter nodded, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He handed one to Lyra, knowing that she needed one.

She placed the filter between her lips, letting Peter light the end, watching the tip glow orange.

"How did you know?" Lyra asked. She watched Peter's blue eyes shift to hers; smoking wafting around him like a halo; in this moment, he was her angel.

"Roman." Peter said, stuffing his cigarette pack back into his pocket.

Lyra involuntarily rolled her eyes, wanting to hate Roman. But she couldn't even be angry with him; she was saddened by his absence.

"You weren't answering your phone, so I came by to see if you wanted meet with Destiny."

"Destiny?" Lyra asked, taking draw of her cigarette.

"My cousin. She's got senses too- she's ah, psychic." Peter spoke cautiously, as if Lyra wouldn't believe him. She smiled - knowing damn well he was telling the truth.

"So how was it... with Roman... alone?" Lyra finished.

"I think he still wants to kill me, but he didn't, so there's that." Peter laughed at his own morbid joke. Once realizing he had mentioned death at a funeral, his smile fell. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"I know."

"I think it's pretty shitty he didn't come." Peter said, referring to Roman's absence.

"Yeah, well... you know Roman. I'm lucky I was even able to came. No one knows I'm back. Pryce and Ares want me to stay away. Something about a dead girl walking the streets causing suspicion. Nobody gives a shit about me- there's too much going on in this town for anyone to take a second look at me."

Peter's brows raised; silently agreeing with her.

Lyra's eyes trailed to the black canopy above the coffin. She stiffened at the sight of a dark haired man with icy blue eyes. He was wearing all black, excluding the white dress shirt beneath his blazer.

Lyra tossed her cigarette to the ground, looking to Peter. "We need to go." Lyra spoke quietly, seeing the confusion flicker in Peter's eyes. Her eyes trailed back to the man who was approaching; his hands in his pockets. "Shit." Lyra murmured, realizing that it was too late to make a run for it.

She grabbed Peter's arm, forcing him to stay behind with her.

"Lyra." Ares spoke; his voice grief stricken. Without another word, Ares pulled Lyra into an embrace; his arms wrapping around her small frame. He pulled away; his hands still resting on his daughter's shoulders.

Ares' eyes trailed to Peter, then back to Lyra. "Peter, nice to see you."

Peter's brows furrowed; his gaze shifting to Lyra's nervously. Peter had never met Ares, nor did he have any idea what he looked like. He was slightly puzzled as to how he knew his name. He recalled that her father had the same senses, but it was still unsettling.

"Where's Roman?" Ares asked Lyra, dropping his hands from her shoulders.

"Why are you asking me things you already know the answers to?" Lyra forced a smile, shifting her eyes away from her father's.

He smiled at the bitterness in Lyra's tone. "Have you been taking light?" Ares asked. Everyone from the same descendant seemed to phrase what they took from the human race differently.

"What do you think?" Lyra dared to push back.

Ares' face fell, looking over to see Peter staring at him, as if deciphering what kind of monster he was beneath his suave exterior.

"How did mom die?" Lyra asked, causing Ares' eyes to shift back to his daughter quickly. He appeared as if the words had taken him aback, but Lyra knew that her father had already known what she was going to ask.

"An aneurism. There was nothing I could do." Ares looked to the grass below his feet, leaning back on his heels as he appeared guilt-ridden.

"I told you to take care of her." Lyra spoke up.

Peter stepped closer to Lyra, placing his hand on her shoulder. "We should go." Peter offered.

Ares nodded, walking toward the line of cars.

"Hey..." Peter whispered, holding Lyra's arms, forcing her look him in the eyes. "I'll meet you Roman's."

Lyra nodded, taking her eyes off of Peter's to see her father climbing into a Rolls Royce at the front of the line. It was no secret now that Lyra was back in Hemlock; it was no secret that she and Roman were together again. Lyra would've given anything to be able to read her father's mind, to see what he was hiding beneath the lies she was sure he was telling.