Page 116 of (Sur)real
I looked around at all the dead.
“What do we do?” she asked.
“We embrace our future,” I said.
* * * *
MICHELLE…
We sat in the front row. Winifred stood by Sam’s closed casket, her hand resting on the wood. Lined around him were the boxes of ashes for every werewolf we’d lost. There were so many. Charlene and Thomas had neither a casket nor an urn. They had a large picture on a board. They stood together, smiling at the camera as two wolf cubs ran around their legs.
I felt Emmitt’s pain and wrapped my arms around him.
“I’m so sorry.”
“I know you are.” He turned to pull me against his side and put a hand on my stomach.
“Are you feeling any better?”
“A little.” Learning I was pregnant just after the fight had brought too many emotions. Mostly regret that Charlene and Thomas hadn’t known.
“Good,” he said. “I want this to be the first of many.”
“Says the guy who isn’t kissing the toilet every morning.”
He kissed me softly.
“Excuse me,” a man said, close by.
I pulled back, blushing. It probably looked horrible, kissing at a funeral. The man didn’t look like he was judging, though. His face bore some new scars along his neck. He held out a hand to Emmitt.
“My name’s Anton. I knew your mom and dad a long time ago. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you for answering the call,” Emmitt said.
“I made the mistake of not joining your father’s pack years ago. I don’t want to make the same mistake with you. If you’ll have me, I’d be proud to belong.”
That had been happening constantly since the fight ended. Grey seemed surprised that Emmitt accepted each request. I didn’t understand why. Emmitt had been groomed for a leadership role since the day he was born.
I moved away from them, as they took a moment to speak about the pack, and joined Isabelle and Bethi on the other side of the room.
“How’s it going?” I asked.
“Not bad,” Isabelle said. “Winifred is blocking the worst of it. When she lets it slip, though…” She shook her head.
“And Gabby?”
“I’ve been stealing,” Isabelle admitted.
Paul and Henry entered. They held the door for a man I barely recognized. Gregory wore a patch over his missing right eye and had tucked an empty right sleeve into the front of his suit jacket.
I swallowed hard at the sight of him and still couldn’t believe he’d survived what the Urbat had done to him in an attempt to discover where we were.
He walked right up to me and wrapped me in a partial hug. I gently returned it.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, starting to cry again.
“Don’t,” Gregory said. “Mary had no regrets. You can’t have any, either.”
