Monster

Two days passed, and I kept my distance. The Chasses and Wicklows were in the grip of something heavy, something dark. The last time I spoke with any of them was before they left for their family getaway, but that felt distant now, like another life. They were making preparations for their dead while I stayed in the shadows. I could see it in their eyes… death had taken a seat among them, heavy in their silence. A Wicklow and a Chasse, both claimed. Not long before, it had been Bran. He wasn’t exactly a Talbot, but close enough. Death wasn’t just a memory yet, it was still there, hanging in the air, pressing down on everything like a physical weight. You could almost feel it move, stalking the room's edges, settling deep into the bones of anyone left behind.

I stayed very close, roaming the woods beside the Chasse house as they made plans for a funeral. Annabelle and Shelta were there most of the time since the night it happened. They planned on having a joint funeral. They talked like they would be buried in the same place, which I thought strange. However, both families seemed to know exactly what they talked about, so I figured I’d just have to wait and see when the time came.

Kayla was unraveling. She hadn’t left Autumn’s room since they returned that night, clinging to it as if the four walls could somehow shield her from the reality outside. She refused to stay in the guest wing anymore. The memories of her father haunted every corner of that side of the house. Zeke’s heavy footsteps, the sound of his voice, all of it too raw, too unbearable for her to face. Her eyes were always swollen and red, a quiet, steady grief that never seemed to leave her.

Arthur had taken up residence in the guest wing now, filling the space Zeke had once occupied. But he was different. Arthur had always been a man of few words, his silence usually deliberate and thoughtful. This was something else. His silence now felt hollow, like he was sinking into it, using it as a shield to keep the world at bay. From where I watched in the woods, I rarely heard him speak; his voice had become a distant memory, and it was like he’d forgotten how to be among the living.

Kayla would whisper to Autumn every so often, her voice barely breaking the stillness, but Arthur might as well have been a ghost. He rarely emerged from his room, and when he did, it was only to return with a different book. Sometimes, I could hear the faint sound of pages turning, slow and deliberate, as though reading was the only thing tethering him to the present. The scars on his skin told a story of survival, but the wounds inside were far deeper. He was a hunter who’d lost more than blood. There was an emptiness in him now, a quiet resignation that made me wonder if he was still fighting at all.

When the Wicklows came over… it was hard to watch, and even harder to listen. My senses allowed me to feel like I was standing within the home, able to witness everything. Sarah, the Wicklow I felt I knew the least, never had clear eyes. The red strain that grew in her gaze was so potent she almost looked like a vampire. Sarah's bloodshot eyes cried off and on in the arms of Eleanor, Annabelle, and even her own son.

Patrick stayed strong around everyone, taking on a similar persona to Arthur, but when he got a few moments alone… I felt his pain. He went to the bathroom a few times just to get away from everyone. Once inside, he’d barely crack the lid that kept everything contained. I could hear his faltering breath from out in the woods. He thought he was alone, but my senses put me right there beside him.

They were all busy as the days went on. Many things had to be done. People needed to be notified in the supernatural world, and the human world. The civilized world, however, contained many more hoops to jump through. Carter seemed to take the lead, however, speaking with three different contacts within the government infrastructure of the known world. It seemed as though there were specific steps they took whenever these dreaded events tore someone from their family. They couldn’t just call the police and say their family members were killed by a gypsy necromancer. They had to let their family members fade from existence without causing a stir within the human world. The thought of it all stressed me out for the two families, but they seemed to have done this many times before… unfortunately.

On that second evening of lingering in the woods, watching my friends, I was surprised by footsteps that approached quickly. They rushed through the breeze that blew against my back. The strange and powerful scent of my landlord registered in my mind. I turned quickly and saw his familiar face staring at me with a questioning look. Martin approached me under the shade of the trees.

“Sam, what are you doing here?” Martin asked. He seemed surprised at my presence.

“Waiting,” I said slowly, curious as to why he was there. Maybe he just wanted to check on them as well.

“For Peter to return?” Martin asked.

“Yes and no. I just wanted to be here… if they needed anything.”

Martin cocked his head to the side, “Do they know you’re here?”

“No. I didn’t want to intrude,” I said. “I’d call them, but I still don’t have a phone.”

“I can get you a new one, same number and everything. I know a guy,” Martin nodded his head, answering a question in his mind. “They haven’t reached out to me until today. Carter asked if I could come by.”

“He did?” I questioned.

“Yes,” Martin answered, obviously tiptoeing around my reaction. “I’m not sure why they are all keeping their distance, but I thought it odd that he hadn’t reached out to me sooner.”

“I know they’re hurting. I want them to have what they need. I think right now what they need is space… and time.”

“I believe you are correct,” Martin agreed.

“Did Carter say what he wanted?” I asked. “Something to do with the funerals?”

“No, not that. Even with all of the planning they are doing, Carter still wants to look into what kind of creatures those four-legged beasts were. He has found something and wants me to take a look.”

“In a bestiary?” I guessed.

“Yes, in one of Arthurs, I believe.”

I looked back to the guest side of the house, “That must be what he’s doing over there. Arthur’s barely been on my senses since they all made it back. He hasn’t spoken hardly at all.”

Martin nodded sympathetically, “To lose your family like that, so quick and unexpected… I’m sure it would rattle even the strongest of us.”

I nodded in agreement. Then I started thinking about my own family, and then Martin’s.

“I wish I could have been there…” I remembered the feeling of being pinned down, forced to watch… to learn a lesson. I like a rat in a trap. I couldn’t move, couldn’t help myself, or my friends.

Martin’s form shifted slightly, more questioning. “Where have you been Sam? I haven’t seen or heard from you since that night at Abel’s.”

I sighed. This was it… the beginning of the questions. “I’ve been occupied.”

Martin nodded, unsure what to say next as my words were blunt and unamiable to his prying. I didn’t want to even attempt to explain something I didn’t understand.

It was fully dark out in the trees, and the gap to the Chasse house was dark enough for Martin to cross.

“I should get in there,” Martin suggested.

I nodded, “Go ahead. I’ll stay out here and keep a lookout. Peter could come back at any moment, and I want to be close when he does.”

“Thank you, Sam. I know you care about them all just as much as I do,” Martin spoke sincerely. “If you could have helped… I know you would have been the first one there.” He tried to smooth over some peace between us.

I only nodded.

Then, Martin blurred across the darkened gap to the back door. He knocked only twice before he was greeted by Eleanor. She looked like she had a drink in her hand, trying to take the edge off everything that was going on.

“Martin,” Eleanor greeted the vampire with a hug.

“Eleanor,” he returned, “I am so sorry, my dear.”

Eleanor nodded in sadness, gritting her teeth. She was trying not to cry again.

“Is he in his study?” Martin asked.

“Yes. He’s waiting for you up there,” Eleanor informed.

They closed the door, and I stopped focusing. I wanted to reach out and see if I could concentrate on Autumn’s voice. I wanted to hear her breathing, her heart beating inside the house. The thoughts of all the loss and being alone made me start to realize just how precious my time with her was. I wanted to be with her while I could. I wanted to create as many memories as I could before that’s all I had left of her. Memories of a brief light in this dark life I’d been cast into. In those dark moments in the woods, apart from my friends, I didn’t care what it meant, or what was right for me to do. I just wanted time with her. I wanted to be with her.

After maybe an hour, Martin returned out through the back door and crossed the expanse to me. He sped through the dark like a shadow as he returned.

“Well, did you learn anything?” I asked Martin.

“Yes, I did. Arthur’s side of the family called them “Devourers.” Arthur had read of them before and remembered their distinct lower jaw from the writings in his family's bestiaries. Nothing major to note, though, silver kills them just like everything else; massive brutality is an excellent substitute as well. They haven’t been seen in many years, so they must have come from down deep in the pits,” Martin thought aloud. “At any rate, they have been dealt with.” Martin looked back to the house for a moment and then had an anxious thought come across his mind. “They’re all swamped, but I think this is the right thing to do. The funerals are tomorrow, and I think they want you there. No one said anything, but it’s pretty hectic inside. Hearing from out here and seeing their faces up close are two different things. I think it would be good if you came tomorrow,” Martin suggested.

“You think so?” I asked, unsure.

“Yes. I think they’ll want you there, even the Wicklows. Why don’t you come with me… I think I have a suit that might fit you. You can't necessarily go to a funeral in the same coat and hood you always wear, Sam,” the old vampire laughed.

I smirked, looking back to the Chasse house, “You think they’ll be okay?”

“They’ve got Annabelle and Shelta. If Peter came here… Shelta would destroy him again. Plus, I think that he’s biding time until he can get stronger, somehow. He won’t show himself until he thinks he can take out Shelta… and you.”

Martin’s words soothed me. I agreed with what he said, and I left with him, leaving my family and friends to have some privacy.

The next day came too slowly. I went back to Martin’s bar behind his massive sliding steel door. I passed by the other patrons who didn’t eye me once. Alex, however, stared at me from the moment I entered the establishment until I moved out of sight behind the kitchen window. I didn’t think she feared for her friend, she was just curious as to why I was there.

Martin did have a suit for me that he let me keep. It was all black, which I thought fit me perfectly. I hadn’t ever really been a suit guy, but I liked the way I looked. Like some kind of suave shadow of the night. I took my time in the back of Martin’s bar and got myself cleaned up.

When it came time for the funerals, Martin and I left Alex behind at the bar as we dropped below the sewers. It was daylight, so I had to carry a thick black blanket with me as we made our way across small sections, blocking the sunlight for Martin so he could walk in the light without burning. He had a strangely constructed umbrella with him also. It looked like it was made out of some kind of animal skin. The material was like black leather that expanded and stretched to the little frame of the umbrella when fully opened. In direct sunlight, he would start to smolder even if he rushed through a small expanse of light. The blanket didn’t do a good enough job, so we had to be quick while we were above ground.

We finally arrived at the graveyard, hidden deep within a shadowy patch of untamed woods, far removed from the rest of the world. The air here felt different, thick and damp with the scent of moss and rich, undisturbed earth. The plot was private, forgotten by most, its boundaries marked by a low, crumbling stone wall that snaked around the graveyard's uneven shape. The stones were old, weathered by time, with moss creeping between the cracks, giving them an almost ancient look, as if the land itself had slowly begun to reclaim them.

Above us, towering trees loomed, their thick, gnarled branches spreading out like dark fingers, casting a dense canopy that blanketed the entire area in deep, shifting shadows. The ground beneath my feet was soft, the grass thick and wild, muffling our footsteps as we walked. Scattered across the graveyard were small, humble headstones, their inscriptions worn down and barely legible, while larger tombstones jutted out of the earth like forgotten monuments to the dead. A few statues stood among them, tall and silent, their stone faces hidden beneath layers of creeping vines and ivy.

The place felt heavy, almost alive with the weight of history, and yet, it had a strange comfort to it. The darkness here wasn’t oppressive but familiar, like the quiet of the deep woods I had walked through recently when Jon called me to the fields. Something was grounding about it; the earth beneath, the ancient trees overhead, and the soft murmur of the wind as it rustled through the leaves. For a moment, I felt connected to it all, as if the shadows and the soil were something I belonged to.

When Martin and I arrived, the Wicklows and Chasses were already gathered, their figures silhouetted in the dim light, standing in somber clusters around two sets of tombstones. Beneath them, the dark earth had already been disturbed. Two freshly dug graves, waiting like open wounds. The realization sank in quickly. This was their cemetery. A place where the dead of this intertwined family of hunters, gypsies, and werewolves were laid to rest. Even in death, their bonds remained, the bloodlines joined in their final resting place, just as they had been in life.

Bartley Wicklow and Zeke Chasse, both slain, lay side by side in their pine coffins. The simple wood seemed too humble, too fragile for the weight of the lives they once carried. They rested in the center of the graveyard, about thirty yards from where Martin and I stood. The distance felt immense, like a chasm between the living and the dead that I couldn’t bridge. The air here was thick, and damp with the scent of soil and the unmistakable quiet of mourning. I could hear a low, almost imperceptible grumble in my ears… voices, whispers that seemed to rise from the very ground, as if the dead themselves were speaking through the rustling leaves and the wind that swept through the trees. It was strange. There was a feeling to this place that I couldn’t place.

Their families were here, connected even in this grief-stricken moment, but I felt like an outsider again, standing at the edge of their sorrow. The weight of it all pressed down on me; the legacy, the death, the inevitable fate of those who walked this path. And yet, despite the gathering of people, the silence was overwhelming, broken only by the occasional sob or murmur of someone too lost in their mourning to notice the rest of us. The sadness of the scene seeped into the earth, into the air, wrapping around me like a heavy, inescapable cloak.

I saw mascara running with tears, voices cracking and sobbing, and the same hardened look on all the men’s faces. Every person there was clad in dark, mournful clothing. They were still just as hurt as the moment they both fell in that alley. I think now it had just really set in for some of them.

I saw Arthur standing like one of the grey statues as he looked on his brother. Kayla wept loudly by his side. Autumn was there, supporting her cousins’ weight when her knees wanted to give out from the grief. Autumn’s face ran dark lines of tears and makeup as she too lived in sorrow with her family. I wanted to go to her.

Patrick, Sarah, and Shelta all stood right next to them all. Bartley’s family was shattered.

The trees above were so thick that they produced enough cover and shade for Martin to walk freely. He popped open his strange umbrella and laid it across his shoulder just in case a few stray sunbeams found their way through the trees above. I laid the folded blanket down on the edge of the stone border wall as we both entered the graveyard.

Carter and Eleanor looked up as we entered the space, aware of both our presence at the same time. I secretly feared what they would think when they saw me. Would they be angry… upset, or disappointed that I wasn’t there for them in their dark hour of need? I had vanished from their lives for a chunk of time again, and this had all happened.

But, to my thankful surprise, I was quickly welcomed by Eleanor's relieved expression. Carter also looked thankful to see me in such a dark time.

We walked up to meet them, quickly gaining the attention of the others. Autumn saw me as her parents began to move towards us. She had a strange look on her tearful face. She looked beyond emotional but tried to hold it in. She was straining to maintain what little composure she still had as she tried to be there for Kayla.

"Sam...," Eleanor walked to me quickly with her arms spread ready to pull me in for a hug. She latched on as soon as she could put her arms around me. "I'm so happy to see you, Sam. I feel like I haven't seen you in weeks. These last few days… they’ve seemed like they've lasted forever,” she sighed.

"I'm sorry, Eleanor. I'm sorry for what happened to Zeke… and Bartley. I wished I would have been there…” I struggled to find words I thought would help.

Carter stepped up next, his eyes weighed down with sorrow as he greeted Martin with a somber nod. “This isn’t your fault, Sam,” he said, his voice rough, raw from sleepless nights and endless grieving. “Peter Grimwood did this.”

“But I was there,” I confessed, guilt gnawing at me. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I made it to you all, but… Peter had been doing something to me. He didn’t want me there, so he knocked me out somehow. I was at the old factory...” I relived the horror for them, my chest tightening as the memories poured out. “It was like I fell into a deep sleep… like a coma or something. But it felt good like I never wanted to wake up. I slept for days. And in that sleep, I saw things… things that made me want to stay in that dream forever.”

Annabelle, her face pale, haunted by her own pain, hobbled over, her movements slow, every step a battle. “I believe Peter sees Sam as a threat to whatever he’s planning,” she added quietly, her voice thick with shared grief. “So much so, that he couldn’t afford Sam being there to stop him. He deterred him long before he came for the rest of us.”

The air between us felt heavier, the weight of loss suffocating, the knowledge that Peter had stolen something from each of them making the pain sharper. We stood there, broken, each of us touched by what Peter had done.

I stopped my explanation there, however. I didn’t feel it smart to talk about how the being, or the blade it had granted me, held me away. That was going to be too hard to explain in a moment like this.

Carter placed his fatherly hand on my shoulder, “It’s all right, Sam. We can talk about the details later. But none of this is your fault. I promise you, none of us think that.” Carter patted my back as he talked to me.

Autumn broke away from the pack of tearful mourners and met me beside her parents. She walked right in between both of them and wrapped her arms around my neck. Autumn and Eleanor both had on black dresses that almost matched. Autumn's hair was done up in a loose bun, and her eyes were tired from crying.

“How are you doing,” I tried to find words to comfort her. I didn’t think it would help, so I just held her tightly as she stayed silent.

Once she finally broke her silence, she looked up at me. “I'm sorry we haven't talked yet," Autumn spoke through her stumbling words as the emotion grew thicker in her voice. "I wanted to call… but your phone just goes straight to voicemail…”

Oh, shit that’s right, “Yeah it got destroyed.”

“Oh” was all she said. “Well, after what Peter did, Annabelle said we had to stay away from you until today. She didn’t want us to even try to call you because she thought it might blur her sight,” Autumn explained through brimming tears.

I looked over to Carter and Eleanor, who nodded in unison.

"It's true," Carter said. “She wanted us to maintain a distance from you. I don't know exactly why, but I think after losing Bartley, she wanted to make sure she could see our futures. She said she could see everything leading up to the funerals today, and then everything blacks out.” Carter looked back over to the gypsy elder, who was actively watching us from a distance after returning to her sons grave. "She says that we all walk out of here safely, once the darkness clears from her vision, so she was okay with you coming.”

“You all knew I would show up here?" I asked, confused at the gypsy’s power.

“Yes, but we wanted you to be with us sooner. Annabelle has her reasons sometimes, and we have to listen to her. Her power has saved us more times than any of us can remember,” Eleanor said. “We’ve learned over the years to just listen to her. She usually has a perfect reason for the things she requests.”

Autumn whispered in my ear through the other information, "I missed you.”

“I missed you too," I told her quietly.

Autumn stepped in close again and wrapped her arms tightly around my neck, pulling herself very intimately into me. She did it right in front of the onlooking Wicklows. Even Patrick was watching as she did it, but she didn’t care. At that moment, I don't think any of them cared. Too much had happened…

“Come, join us. We're about to start,” Eleanor placed her hand on my shoulder as she led me towards the rest of the extended family.

The coffins almost matched as they sat directly beside one another at the central ceremonial gathering. Everyone was there; all of the Wicklows I knew, the entire Chasse clan, and even a few of the Talbots. Jane had arrived shortly after Martin and me, bringing along a few other members I had only ever seen in passing. Alan and Eloise stood near Carter and Eleanor. Almost everyone had on black with a few darker grey tones. We all stood in a crescent formation as we gazed upon the fallen family members as their bodies lay motionless and pale.

Before Annabelle stepped up to say a few words, I started to have a moment. I pictured this being my family back home. How many more years did they have left until one of them was lying in a box? Who would it be: Dad, Mom, Seth, my sisters? What if it was Vicky… or Caydee? Anything could happen in this world I lived in. They only had so much time in this world… while I… I’d have lifetimes if what the real Jon told me was true.

I didn't hear the words that were spoken at the joint funeral, I just stood as motionless as the corpses. I thought about the loss that was eventually coming my way. The only other thing I could feel in those moments was Autumn’s fingers gripping my arm tightly. I could feel her muscles shaking in her grip, and I could hear the rapid flutter of her heartbeat. I tried to memorize everything about her, committing everything to memory for a day in the future when I didn’t have Autumn anymore. A time would come when I lost all of my family and friends, and I would be alone.

The rest of the ceremony went by in a hazy blur. I felt lost out in those shady trees surrounded by the loss and grief of my friends. I didn't feel what they felt, not entirely. I wasn't close with Zeke, or Bartley, but I could see all their pain. If it would have been Autumn, Eleanor, any of the Chasses I’d grown close to, or my family back home… I’d never be the same again. Just knowing that one day I’d be facing what they felt had me stressed. How many times would I have to feel it?

When the time came, Arthur, Carter, Frank, and Patrick each took up their shovels, ready to lay their family to rest. They didn’t rely on machines or take any shortcuts. No, they did it by hand, the hard way. It was as though this was a sacred duty they’d carried out before. It was deeply personal. It was a tradition, a ritual of honor passed down through generations, a way to pay their respects when someone was lost to the shadows of this dark life.

With each shovelful of earth, they worked silently, their faces lined with resolve and sorrow, burying their loved ones with the sweat of their own brows. It was more than just a task for them; it was a final act of love and duty, a burden they bore with pride. I could tell it meant more to them than I could ever understand.

I glanced over at Martin, my face furrowed with an unspoken question. He caught my eye and gave a slight shake of his head, his expression solemn. We weren’t supposed to help. This wasn’t for us. This was their moment. It was a private, honorable farewell. We were simply to stand aside and watch.

Once everything was over, and we had buried the two men into the earth, everyone slowly started to disperse. It wasn’t long before I found myself standing in front of Shelta and Annabelle.

“Thank you for being here, Sam,” Annabelle’s old voice choked out. “Bartley would be glad you are here to protect us… in your own way,” she added.

“I wouldn’t have been able to kill Peter if you hadn't taken care of those devourers on the roof,” Shelta spoke. It wasn’t a thank you, she was too distraught at losing her brother, but I knew she meant it.

“You knew…” I said quietly, hoping the others wouldn’t hear.

They both nodded as Annabelle spoke quietly. “We do… and we know that there are other forces at play here. But I don’t see you as a threat to us. You may keep secrets, but they aren’t born from ill will.”

“I’m sorry. I wish I could have done more,” I said as I looked over to the two freshly covered plots.

“Me too,” Annabelle spoke sullenly, almost hanging her head.

"But I know we still have more to do. Peter’s not dead," I said, my voice low as if uttering something forbidden. "He’ll be back. It’s only a matter of time."

The space between us grew tense. Shelta frowned, her eyes narrowing in disbelief. "How can you be sure? There was nothing left of him. How could anyone come back from that?"

I hesitated, the words lingering heavy on my tongue. "It’s… complicated," I finally said, my voice unnervingly calm. "Peter can’t die…not yet. He’s tied to something powerful, something that’s keeping him alive. He won't stay dead until his benefactor is dead."

"Something else?" Eleanor’s voice cut through from behind me, sharp and probing. She and the others had come closer, their expressions darkening with suspicion. “Something like… the thing from that other place.”

I took a breath, bracing myself. "Not him… but something like him… I think. I was told I’d be shown how to kill it when the time comes."

A cold silence settled between everyone now that they had all circled me. I felt… agitated.

"Who is it… what is it?" Eleanor's voice trembled slightly, though she masked it well.

I turned toward her, unable to meet her gaze as I soothed the beast inside. It was gripping the bars of its cage, barring its teeth at them, from within my mind, for daring to ask us questions.

I exhaled the word like a curse. "He said that when the time came, he’d show me what needed to be done. This other thing… it's ancient. It's hidden somewhere, and it is feeding Peter his power. Everything he has done, even his selfish desires to get back at your families, ultimately serves this thing in a way."

Wayland chimed in, “Is it one of the elders, from the pits? We’ve never seen one, only heard stories. It could explain why these things keep coming from below.”

Martin stepped up, standing darkly beneath his leathery umbrella. His face was cool and sure of what he was about to say. “No. The elders down there are numerous but don’t have the kind of power it would take to bring someone back like Peter. No, they are the eldest of their respective races. Unbelievably strong in their bloodlines, some taking on shapes and forms beyond inhuman. Things of nightmares! However, I do not believe our threat lies down there. I have been speaking with Charles more often these days. He assures me that his status is still intact down there, and he has full access to that world. He has been digging, and Peter is on their radar, but no one is backing him. If it is something beyond the Elders… I fear what that could be.” Hearing Martin with a spark of fear in his voice did something to everyone. It was subtle, but an uptick of dread came across everyone.

“Charles goes down there often?” I asked, intrigued. I started noting things in my mind to talk with him about the next time I saw him. If I were to take Abel’s advice, I’d need a way down one day.

“Yes, he must if he is to maintain his ruse,” Martin added.

I nodded and then continued. "I haven’t heard anything… since," I added, casting a glance toward Shelta. "Not since that night, when you burned him. There was no sign… no words… nothing. Whatever I’m supposed to do, it hasn’t happened yet."

"Then we’ll kill him again!" Eleanor stated. “As many times it takes until it sticks.”

The silence that followed felt like the calm before a storm, the others staring at me, their faces twisted with questions they didn’t dare voice. There was an obvious tone between us all that they knew I was actively withholding information from them. They didn’t ask… not yet at least.

"Well, it seems we all need to prepare ourselves then,” Annabelle said.

“Prepare… how?” Shelta asked through her drying tears.

Annabelle answered smoothly, "I believe I have a plan. It's a way to tip the balance in our favor; in your favor, Shelta.”

"What are you talking about, Annabelle?" Carter’s strong form asked the older crooked lady. He seemed oddly worried about what she spoke of.

They all knew that if Annabelle had a plan, then it was in their best interests to go along with it. Even with all of their strength, none of them could match Annabelle’s ability to direct the flow of their battles.

"All in due time, Carter. For now, I suggest we all return home and get what little rest we can,” the elder Wicklow put on a weathered smile. She seemed like she was trying to stop the questions for the moment and send them away. I was thankful.

Everyone trusted her, so they nodded in agreement and prepared to leave. But I could feel eyes on me that held more questions. Specifically, who are you going to kill? How is Peter coming back, and what is he tied to?

“Sam,” Annabelle’s voice grabbed my attention. “May I have a word?”

Her request shocked me. I looked back to Autumn, who again clutched my arm tightly like, as soon as she let go, I’d disappear.

“Only Sam,” Annabelle easily let them down. “It’s best if we have this moment alone, so things will work out as I have seen.”

Eleanor placed her hand on Autumn’s shoulder, “It will be okay, sweetie.”

“Will you come by the house later?” Autumn asked as she loosened her grip on my hand.

I nodded to her, “I’ll be there.”

Autumn let go and turned her teary face from me. Her makeup was running just like her mother’s as they both followed Carter back to their vehicles. Martin stood near their Suburban like he was waiting to talk to Carter.

“Walk with me, Sam” Annabelle eased slowly across the grass towards some older graves in the Wicklow’s section of the massive graveyard.

Shelta eyed us intently as she waited beside her brother's grave. She let her mother continue with her plan, even though she wasn’t in the loop yet. It looked like it was worrying her.

I followed her willingly. I still didn’t fully understand what all the Wicklows could do. It didn’t make sense in my mind how Shelta was able to melt Peter that night in the street. I didn’t understand Annabelle’s ability to look into everyone’s futures. Yet, I strangely trusted her. I wanted to hear what she was thinking. Shit, it might be something similar to the way Jon spoke about setting a path…

“We have a lot of family here,” Annabelle said as we came to a stop outside of some older-looking headstones. “A lot of my loved ones are laid to rest here. All of my family I knew before I had children of my own. My husband,” Annabelle eyed a much older stone.

I looked up at the ruby-colored concrete to the name that was carved into the slab. It read Michael Wicklow.

“I know you two are celebrating right now,” Annabelle spoke to the headstone. “I’ve missed you so much, darling. I thought I’d be coming first… never our son.” Tears poured from her eyes through the crow’s feet at the corners. “I’ll see you both again… soon.”

Annabelle pulled a cloth handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed her eyes gently.

“I know that there are no words I can say…” I started.

“Don’t worry yourself on it one bit, my boy. Life is life, and with it comes death. I only… never planned to outlive any of my children. I lost my Michael almost twenty years ago this December. He was a darling man,” she thought back to him.

“Michael Wicklow?” I asked. “If he was a Wicklow, did you come from another gypsy family?”

Annabelle smiled, “No. I am a Wicklow, Michael’s last name was Peterson.”

I tilted my head in confusion.

Annabelle laughed lightly, “Michael took my last name. Once he knew what I was, and what my family did, he wanted to help me… us, in any way he could. It was unheard of in the times we lived in, but Michael loved me and didn’t care what anyone else thought about it. He was proud to be a part of the Wicklow family. He trained with Carter’s father for a time in our younger years. He didn’t have our gypsy blood, but he wanted to help in our efforts against the darkness of the world.”

“How did he die?” I asked after a brief pause, looking at his aging stone.

“It was on a hunt,” Annabelle nodded. “I saw him come out of it safe and unharmed… but then, things changed. It happened too quickly for me to warn them… too soon to make adjustments.” She relived it as she spoke.

“I’m sorry,” I felt like an asshole for asking the question.

“I got to see him one last time after it happened. He lived long enough for them to bring him back home. We spoke before he passed, and he was happy. He knew it was his time, and he was ready. He died protecting his family… he was never scared of anything as long as he was fighting for all of us.”

Annabelle looked like she was working things out in her head as she spoke to me in the quiet cemetery. She was calm on the outside, but I could see her eyes racing as she looked into futures at various stages of each life she monitored.

“What is it you see?” I asked.

The old woman took in a slow, deep breath as she calmed her mind’s eye.

“I won’t be here much longer. I’ve seen how it happens,” Annabelle admitted. Before I could speak and let her know we wouldn’t let it happen, she lifted up her hand to stop me, “This is my time, Sam. I’ve seen it. It doesn’t matter if you stop the way I’ve seen, it will just come around for me in a different way. I am going to die. There is no escaping it… and honestly, I don’t want to. I have more family on the other side than I have left. My time here is coming to a close.”

“What about Shelta?” I looked over slowly as I saw her sobbing on the top of her brother's grave. I whispered the words so she wouldn’t hear. “What about Patrick and Sarah? They’ll be the only ones left.”

“They will be okay. I’ve seen our family’s future, and they will thrive again as we have before,” Annabelle seemed almost proud as she started tearing up again. This time it was tears of joy. “I’ve seen Patrick and Shelta find happiness with others that lead to a rebirth of our family. We’ve lost much in the last generation or so, but they’ll grow us into something powerful again. The gypsy blood will continue on after I am gone.”

Her fearlessness in the face of what she had seen surprised me. I honestly didn’t know what to say to all that. It was strange.

“So, what do you want from me? Why did you want to talk to me alone?” I asked.

“I’ve seen the way it happens. I transfer my power to Shelta,” she looked over to her daughter, who was still sobbing. “When Peter comes back, he is far stronger than before. Shelta’s power alone won’t be enough to stop him. I give all of my power to my daughter, and then I pass on. However, her power isn’t what will keep him down,” Annabelle said.

“It’s me,” I knew what she was going to say.

“Yes, Sam. Shelta’s power has to be strong enough so she can contain Peter until you come for him. There is no other way… I have to put my power into her so she can help you end all of this,” she was sure. “Peter has ways of moving that are… unexplainable. He’s in and out of my vision constantly. It’s like one minute he’ll exist and another he’s gone from our world. I didn’t recognize that at first, that’s why he was able to hurt us as he did, but I know his patterns now. Shelta will slow him when he returns. She’ll lock him down in place for you. When you take him from there… he never returns…”

I had questions, but I just nodded. Annabelle probably saw countless ways she decided to go against Peter, all of them failing, except sacrificing herself to save her family and friends.

“I’ve seen you… Sam. I’ve seen you in my visions, unlike before. It is only for a moment, and it is right as I die, but you aren’t blocking out my sight like normal. You’re hard to see, but you are there in some way that allows me to glimpse you. For only a moment, I feel you in my mind, and I feel what is with you,” she spoke ominously.

“What is it?” I was almost afraid to ask.

“You really have no idea what you are, or who the other person is?” she asked.

“No…” was all I could say at first. “He told me that I had to figure that out on my own. He said that if I learned it too early, that I wouldn’t be able to handle it… that it had to be this way.”

She nodded, staring off into the shadows of the trees that surrounded us. “I suppose that is probably best. When I felt the presence of that other… thing, it scared me, Sam. I’ve lived a long life filled with all kinds of creatures that you probably haven’t even learned of yet, but nothing compares to what I felt in that vision where I saw you. If you are tied in with something like that, Sam… I fear that you will have a very hard life, my boy,” Annabelle apologized. She seemed like she felt sorry for me, and whatever she felt about my future. She tried to get herself back on track, “So when it happens, and I have to give my power to Shelta, I need you to be there. That’s the way I’ve seen it, and it has to play out like that. Nobody else can know. I can’t even tell my own family yet, as they will most assuredly try and convince me otherwise. However, I needed to tell you so that way you’ll be with me on that day.”

I nodded, “Don’t worry, I’ll be there. When’s it going to happen?” I didn’t know what to feel as I agreed to it. She was going to kill herself, and no one else knew. What would they think when they found out I knew and didn’t tell them?

“We have one week until Peter returns. I’ll transfer my power to Shelta the night before, and you all will prepare for his arrival,” Annabelle was dead set. She knew exactly what we were going to do.

I nodded. “Okay. If you think this is the only way… then I trust you. I’ll be there, and I’ll do as you say.” I knew all too well what happened when people tried to escape their fates and live beyond their natural lives. I’d come for them. I probably should have argued with her… but I knew things that made me keep in line with her plan. I was on a path that had been set. The only way I would attempt to change anyone's “fate” would be if my entity came and told me otherwise.

She smiled and pulled me down into her older crooked frame, “Thank you, my boy. You will help protect our families when I am gone, and you’ll do it in a way that no one else can. For that, Sam, you will always have my gratitude and my sympathies.”

Annabelle and I parted ways after we finished speaking at her husband’s grave. All of the Chasses had left, knowing I’d return to their house later in the evening. Unfortunately, I was hesitant to go to them now. I had a secret to keep from them again. Annabelle said that they couldn’t know until it was happening. That’s how it had to be; I just hoped that they’d see it that way.