Page 35 of What Happened on Roslyn Street? (Strode University #1)
Chapter Twenty-Four
I t’s my second funeral, and I’m no more used to it now than I was four months ago.
At least this one is outdoors, with no ugly church walls to make me feel trapped. The autumn leaves around us are the most vibrant, scarlet red. The sky is perfectly gloomy, and the air is misty. The ground is soft, wet, a little muddy.
This time, I’m not alone. Margaux stands at one side, clad head-to-toe in black; she’s always wearing black, but this is different. A veil hangs over her head, but in present company, there is no need to hide the bloody tears she cries.
She’s the only one crying. We have no ties to this student, but the loss hasn’t shaken anyone as much as us.
Caldwell is on my other side. His brown jacket has been replaced with a black one.
His arm is around my shoulders, a gesture I’ve realized is protective, pulling me against his side as if he can shield me from the terrors.
He can’t. We went through them together, and we’ve come out stronger on the other side .
We’re a couple now, not that it matters. I’m happy with him, but nothing matters to me when I’m staring at a cold, dead student. He could have had a lot of life ahead of him. Now, he’s compost… and I was seconds from joining him.
I suppose I can see why Caldwell is protective. He’s the only reason I’m breathing, and I’ve yet to find a way to thank him.
The body in the casket belongs to someone I hardly know.
It’s the last body we found, the one I pinned on Caldwell. They did a good job cleaning him up. The pools of blood, the same ones that coated Caldwell’s hands, are gone.
It’s just a young man in a casket. My stomach aches.
We’re lucky to attend the funeral at all, a few days after we did away with the killer ourselves. No one else was going to do it. Would they have believed it was Amelia based on a vision alone? It’s hard to say at Strode University.
Things operate differently here, whether the ones operating are wearing bird masks or not.
The video on my phone is sufficient evidence. It’s enough to keep us out of prison and alive. For now.
The investigators give up, even though we tell them there’s something more. It must be more than Amelia—or so Caldwell’s mother leads us to believe. The video on Amelia’s computer screen says that, too.
No one cares. They congratulated us and moved on with their lives, evacuating the school without further questions. The case of the murders is closed.
They won’t hear anything we have to say about the static and the video—which was remotely wiped from the computer right after we saw it .
If it weren’t for the others, I would think I imagined the video. Where did it go? How did it get there?
That’s the magic of Strode, I suppose; there’s an abundance of mysteries to solve.
The ending brings me little relief, but it’s better than none. I’ve cleaned up some of my messes. Caldwell is free. We’re all free. I hope, with Amelia gone, Poppy can be free as well.
For now, we say goodbye to a fellow student. Oliver Rossner joins Poppy, and I will not forget his name. I won’t let the others, either.
This is the reason we lived through it all—the reason I’m alive, against the cursed odds. I live to document the horrors so others can witness what I have seen. The video of Amelia is only the start.
It can’t end this way. I won’t let it.
Around us, the space is silent. Only Margaux cries for Oliver. It’s a drastic change from Poppy’s funeral. She’s changed. We all have.
The others are at peace more than they are grieving. Everyone is relieved that the kills will come to an end. But me and my friends?
We know they won’t unless we step in to make sure of it. I exchange a look with the two of them. Silent words pass between us.
We turn our back, facing away from the body.
“This is the last funeral,” I say, with my jaw set in stone. “I’ll make sure of it.”