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“Yeah. I—I don’t think you’d feel it, but I think he’d like you to know he’s here. With you.”

I watched a few more tears track their way through the coal on Elliot’s face, and he nodded, his Adam’s apple moving as he swallowed.

“Thanks, Dad,” he whispered, and I had to fight to keep the tears from breaking through. Because this wasn’t about me.

I pulled in a deep breath.

My right hand, which had been resting on the console between Elliot and I, went cold.

I swallowed again. “I think he says ‘you’re welcome,’” I told Elliot.

And then I really had to fight back the tears as Elliot leaned forward and buried his face in his hands.

Fuck.

I put my still-cold hand on his back and just sat there, because what the fuck else was I supposed to do? I couldn’ttalkto Gregory, not like Ward could. But I also didn’t want to ask Ward to summon him because that would mean that Gregory wouldn’t be here—and right now, that seemed a lot more important.

Elliot pulled himself back together and sat up as the hearse began to pull out.

“Fuck.”

“It’s okay,” I told him.

“Is the coal paint in here?” he asked me. His face was an absolute mess.

“Yeah, behind your seat. There are some wipes and shit in there, too.”

He pulled out the little bag and fixed his face.

“Val?”

“Yeah?”

“I mean it. Thank you. For everything.”

“Of course.” I didn’t know what else to say. I didn’t know what else I could have done. I probably could have done itbetteror something, but I was trying.

Elliot let out a breath and leaned back in his seat, but didn’t say anything.

So I pulled out behind the hearse and followed it to the gravesite.

8

After the reception—whichhad filled the house with at least thirty or forty people over the course of the afternoon—Elliot begged me to stay the night again. Taavi had brought me a couple changes of clothes and some toiletries when he and my parents had arrived that morning, because he’s a fucking saint. So at least I’d be able to wear something clean for a few days and brush my teeth with my own toothpaste instead of the weird bubble-gum flavored free tubes from Gregory’s dentist office.

I still woke up at an ungodly time in the morning—just after six—both because I still wasn’t fully acclimated to the central time zone and because I was sleeping like shit. The combination of stress and worry about Elliot and the fact that I missed having Taavi next to me meant that even if I’d stayed in bed until noon, I probably wouldn’t have managed much more than an additional hour, anyway.

So I dragged myself out of bed and shuffled to the kitchen to make coffee. At least my mother had left creamer—because the reception had to have coffee and all the necessary trimmings, as well as tea, wine, beer, and a selection of juices—so I could take my coffee how I actually wanted it.

Taavi had also brought my laptop, so I plugged it in at the kitchen counter and sat at the island to check the email I hadn’t looked at for the last week, finding that I’d been appropriately punished by having over a hundred and fifty of the fucking things.

So I spent the better part of three hours filtering out spam, forwarding some requests, refusing others, and generally trying to catch up just a tiny bit on the job I’d abandoned. It looked like Ward had set up an auto-reply, so at least nobody who’d emailed me was expecting a quick turn-around, and I was glad he’d at least done that. Bonus of having a boss with an IT background, I guess.

As I was working through the list, my phone buzzed, and I looked down at it to find another photo of my cat, this time rolling around on her back with little green flecks all over her fur—which meant that Doc was getting my cat high. I suppose at least somebody was getting some enjoyment out of this trip.

Too bad catnip doesn’t work on shifters, I texted back. Elliot could use the chill.

It does, came Doc’s response.But only if they’re felids.