Page 82 of Midnight Queen

When we lose people, we do what we can to preserve their memory. We cling so desperately to whatever we have left, afraid that if we let go, we will forget them entirely. I would argue forgetting the departed is worse than losing them.Forgetting them would mean there wasn’t any evidence they were here with us in the first place.

It falls on the ones left behind to remember them and tell their story.

I thought by keeping her things exactly how she left them when she left me was a way of remembering her. The guilt that I am the reason she died to begin with also kept me from parting with any of the items. I worried by letting go of them, I would somehow forget her and the important—albeit—temporary role she played in my life.

The guilt I felt over her death was already heavy. I didn’t think I could bear to forget her as well.

I know now this isn’t the case, and I have my sun to thank for that.

Letting go of the past doesn’t mean you forget it, Silas.

It’s taken me a long time to figure out I don’t need the trivial things she left to remember. She is the reason I am here today and for that, I will always remember her and be eternally thankful for her.

Sometimes our loved ones’ stories have bitter ends, but there are still lessons in their pages. It’s our job to listen to them—to learn from them.

I will keep her lessons with me until my last breath, but it’s time I part with her things. She wouldn’t want me to keep them around any more than she would want me to hold on to the guilt.

With one last fleeting look at the belongings, I tell her goodbye and let go ofallof it. My fingers drop the match and in seconds, everything is aflame. The flames eat through the material I’ve worked so hard to preserve, and as they do, there is no remorse. Only peace.

The same peace I can only hope she has.

This is something I’ve been putting off doing, but my impending move has finally persuaded me to do it. It wouldn’t be the fresh start that is needed if I still insisted on carting around artifacts of the past.

I stand there until the flames wane, and the past has returned to dust.

Leaving the ashes, I walk back to the house I have called home for the better part of a century. In fifty years, I may once again call it home, but for now, it will sit empty—waiting for my return.

To ensure the property remains standing all those years, Della will be tasked with maintaining the interior and a hired company will oversee the landscaping. When Della’s old bones are no longer capable of such labor and she finally retires, I will find someone else, but until then, I wouldn’t trust the estate in anyone else’s caring hands.

I had offered to bring her with me, but New Orleans is Della’s home, and she has no desire to leave her city. She won’t be alone, though. Duke will remain here in my place as we planned.

Five months of intensive physical therapy finally got the soldier back on his feet. In the months since the accident, I’ve watched a fresh wave of determination wash over him, and now he’s ready just in time.

To some extent, it’s as if he’s the prince preparing to take the throne. It’s in title only, of course, since I have no intention of surrendering any power. He will simply be the face of my human dealings, like Blackwood Technologies and many more.

All decisions will still come through me.

I will still occasionally have to come to town to handle vampire dealings, but for the time being, everything has been calm. Word traveled fast about what happened to Rowena, and everyone has fallen in line once again. It will be interesting to see how long this period lasts. With vampires, it’s never long.

The air is heavy with the scent of Ira’s red roses when I walk through the courtyard. Like every time I’m out here, I pause in front of the plaque Della had ordered to commemorate his final resting place.‘In memory of Ira Friedman’,it reads. The years of his life are engraved underneath and each time I look at that short line between those dates, I’m reminded of just how fleeting a human life really is.

I also know it doesn’t matter how long the line might be, it will never be enough time. In the end, you will always beg for one more minute—one more second—with the one you love.

I know I did.

After so many years alone, I never thought I’d be in a position where I’d care deeply enough about another being to beg for them to live. It’s because of Ira and his puppeteering that I know what it’s like to be so desperate foronemore minute.

One more minute is how long I needed for her heart to keep beating. Sixty seconds. That’s it.

I am thankful to Ira for pulling his strings because if he hadn’t, I never would have received that last minute. I also would have missed out on the lifetime I craved.

Ira always knew what was best for me, and it was no different with Quincey. He knew before I did she would be the piece my dark soul always needed. He may not be here with us anymore, but it’s okay because he left the most invaluable gift in his place.

Arms snake around my waist and, as they do, the same warmth that has always accompanied her works its way through the cold fibers of my being. I worried when her heart stopped beating she would lose her warmth, but to my utter relief, it’s remained.

Her heat never stemmed from her body temperature, it was always her sunshine-like soul.

Whether she’s a human or vampire, Quincey will always be my sun, and that will never change.

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