Page 52 of Burn for the Devil
She cast me another pitying look, a frown marring her features. The expression didn’t reach her eyes. “I know you’re in mourning, so everyone will understand if you’re a bit down.”
My mother was giving me permission to be sad tonight; it was okay to let the stoic mask slip a little. “Hewasmy fiancé, so they better.” I’d never told my mom and dad I hadn’t re-accepted the engagement or ring and I wasn’t about to disappoint them with the truth.
“Samantha,” she chided as we pulled into the reception’s parking lot.
“I know, Mom. I’m tired. This has been a lot. I will be there tonight. Are you attending?” The closer I examined, the faker my family appeared.
The car came to a stop. “We have the shelter fundraiser,” my dad interjected. “There has been a massive influx of the homeless and it's important we attend.”
“I have some items I can donate from my shop, if you can find a use for them?” I really had made way too many oil blendsand candles the other day. I’d select the mixtures designed for healing and happiness and put together some boxes.
My dad sighed and sent me a small sigh. “Perhaps. I don’t want to be known as the hippie candidate.”
I’d almost forgotten my dad’s political aspirations. “Okay, fine. Let me know. I’ll give Julia and her fiancé your best tonight, of course. I didn’t realize you wouldn’t be there.” Another apologetic glance was sent my way just as the car door was opened.
The hall was laid out with tripod-framed photos of Timothy, showing the various highlights of his life. One frame was an oil painting depicting Timothy in a nicer suit, his image set against an ombre background with various shades of brown highlighting his chestnut eyes. The next room had multiple cloth-covered small dining tables, and a long table filled with food and beverages lined the far wall.
My family and his welcomed his friends, colleagues, and acquaintances. I was under no illusion many had attended sheerly for the networking that would take place under the guise of mourning. Deals would be made, meetings arranged, and hands shook with the promise of future collaboration. This was normal, of course, it just grated on my nerves.
After mingling a bit with the crowd, I found a table and poured myself some water from the carafe placed in the center. Several individuals stopped by to extend their condolences and share memories or encounters they’d had with my ex. Interestingly, I spotted Matthew, the man who had seemed to enjoy my company and then dropped out of sight. I’d had no idea he’d known Timothy.
Matthew was sitting several tables away listening to conversation taking place around him. I didn’t know the people he was with, but I had seen them around at different functions. At first, I considered trying to greet him before I left and thenI thought about how I didn’t want to have to attend another funeral anytime soon.
The first words out of my mother’s mouth when she joined me were, “Oh Matthew’s here.”
My dad took a seat beside her as I uttered a noncommittal, “Mm.”
Thankfully Matthew did not approach me. Our eyes met once but it seemed as though he didn’t recognize me, his gaze passing over me as if I were one of the cushioned chairs in the room. It was a disconcerting feeling when I compared his behavior to how he’d been before, and it struck me as rude. I wasn’t used to being overlooked and dismissed in this manner, as if we’d never met. He could at least nod or smile at me. Contemplating the sword hanging over my head, I tamped down my pride. I didn’t want to be anything like my mother, or to be responsible for another death.
“John is escorting you tonight, I presume?” my mother asked, after narrowing her eyes slightly in Matthew’s direction.
She was referring to an unattached man who’d accompanied me to a couple events when I was without a different date. John was as generic and as boring as his name implied. “Yes, he confirmed earlier today.” I hadn’t had to make any use of him in ages, it seemed.
An event of importance such as an engagement party necessitated the arrangement for tonight in my parents’ eyes. “Excellent, Samantha,” my dad intoned, scanning the room, looking for anyone of significance he should talk to.
The rest of the reception was spent making small talk, watching my parents work their magic with the attendees. Timothy didn’t have a lot of living family other than some distant cousins so mine became the focal point of condolences and outpourings of sympathy. Making the appropriate noises and gestures we received them all with half-hearted softpromises to “be in touch soon” and other such expected platitudes.
By the time I got home, I was exhausted.
I checked my house thoroughly when I got back, looking for surprise gifts or floral arrangements from my dark lover. I was almost disappointed there was nothing amiss and no signs of a secretive visit. The importance of getting back to my normal day-to-day existence shouted at me while I got ready for Julia’s engagement party, reminding me of my responsibilities and duties, while the other part of me screamed for Ramone. That part of me that felt free, for just a little while, in my malicious friend’s company, longed to let go of the chains that bound it.
I had decided while I was in that decaying world with Ramone that I was going to let loose and live a little and that decision was gradually being eroded away after just a few hours back in Boston society. As I repeatedly tamped down the free-spirited part of me, the other part grew stronger. Ramone had killed Timothy, and I would be next, unless I made some permanent changes.
While it didn’t seem like he truly wanted to kill me—quite the opposite honestly—the darkness that followed him, clinging to him like a second skin, couldn’t be denied. With his sorcery and the anger that simmered under the surface, I suspected it wouldn’t take much effort on his part to end me.
Checking my reflection in my floor-length mirror, I eyed the dark blue dress I’d put on and double-checked my hair. I was running late, and John’s car was likely already idling by the curb waiting for me.
It was time to go.
Inoted with mild surprise John had a new driver. It wasn’t that uncommon, as people moved on to other employment or their needs changed. It was just that John was so predictable. He never changed his schedule, his diet, his interests, and he never dated. He was justthere,looking like a model from a toothpaste commercial with his standard medium-brown hair and muted blue eyes. John even managed to make five-thousand-dollar suits appear nondescript.
I thanked the driver as he opened the door and I slid into the car. John and I greeted each other and asked the typical questions about family and work. We slipped into our roles, making small talk and I accepted the pre-party champagne we normally shared on our way to an outing.
Julia and Clint’s party had managed to secure the Natural History Museum for the event, which was a difficulty for most people. Clint’s parents were the executives of a large pharmaceutical company, so I wasn’t surprised they’d snagged such a great venue. The evening was private, with only a couple choice members of the press allowed entry, or anywhere near tonight’s festivities.
We walked into the building, John holding my hand in his cool, dry grasp, and were surrounded by opulence. The interior of the museum was furnished with glass and wood, displays showcasing scenes and stills of nature under low lighting, and outfitted with flowers and greenery for the occasion. The familiar scent of aged wood, furniture polish, and linen drifted through the air wrapping the crowd in comfort and security.
Uniformed servers mingled with the guests, bearing trays of champagne and small snacks as we made our way over to thehappy couple. “Congratulations!” I exclaimed as Julia gave me a quick hug.