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I bit down on my lip, fighting the urge to drag him outside and demand he tell me everything right then and there.
But my mom deserved more than that. She deserved my attention, and Vaughn might need me too. His mom sat right behind us, on the same pew as Bliss and her guys. Now wasn’t the time or place to start peppering Fang and War with questions about where they’d been and who they’d killed.
I’d never really thought of Fang as a killer before. Or if I had, it had been some far-off idea. Like he did that in another dimension. One I wasn’t a part of.
Instead of thinking about that, I focused on the priest.
The service went on. Vaughn’s mom got up and said a eulogy for Bart. It was lovely, and well worded, and she spoke so eloquently.
The priest asked if there was anyone who would like to say some words about Miranda, but nobody came forward.
I swallowed thickly, looking around, hoping my dad might say something, but I couldn’t even see him in the crowd. The priest turned to me.
“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, Pix. Nobody is making you.” Fang squeezed my fingers.
But that really wasn’t good enough. My mom might not have been wealthy or influential, but she was still a person. She deserved to have people say nice things at her funeral. I pushed to my feet. “It’s okay. I’ll say something.”
I walked stiffly to the podium, and the priest leaned over and adjusted the mic to be closer to my mouth.
I couldn’t look out at the crowd. I clutched the edge of the podium so tight my fingers went white, but I forced myself to clear my throat. Then finally, to speak. “My mother wasn’t the most responsible of adults. Nor was she the best mom. She had me too young, she’d be the first to admit that. But that meant we grew up together. We taught each other. We didn’t have much, but that made us close. It was always me and her against the world.”
I sniffed, fighting back the tears welling in my eyes. I battled to keep my emotions under control. I just needed to hold it together for a few more minutes, then I could fall apart.
I couldn’t do it. One dripped down my face and onto the back of my hand.
My mother’s voice echoed in my head. You’re Rebel freaking Kemp, and Kemp women are strong. You got this, baby. I love you.
I raised my head, gazing out at the sea of faces, wishing I could hear her say those words one more time. But I couldn’t. All I had was the memories.
Her memory deserved more than me staring down at my hands, sniffling like some timid little mouse.
I suddenly wanted everyone to know about how she’d been obsessed with hockey and that Jacob Rhodes from the Colorado Titans was her favorite player. Or how she loved Oreos, but only the double-stuffed ones because the original didn’t have the right ratio of cream to cookie. I wanted them all to know that even though I hadn’t gone to a fancy school, and I couldn’t speak as eloquently as Vaughn’s mom, I cared enough to try to do her justice.
My gaze came to rest on the back row.
I froze.
Hugh and Caleb sat side by side, identical smirks on their faces.
The edge of the podium snapped beneath my grip.
“Pix?” I spun and found Fang standing behind me. “Are you okay?”
I shook my head. They couldn’t be here. They wouldn’t dare. I looked back at where I thought they’d been, but the pew was completely empty.
I stared at it. Had they left?
Or had they never actually been there at all?
My head hurt from trying to make sense of what I’d seen. I stumbled, grasping at the podium so I didn’t fall down the altar steps.
“Come on. You don’t need to do this.” Fang put his hand to my lower back.
My entire body trembled. I couldn’t remove the image of Caleb and Hugh, sitting in that back row, like some sort of demons, risen from their grave to taunt and torment again.
I’d tried to kill Hugh in cold blood. I’d gone to his house and set it alight with him inside.
Who did that?