Page 7 of Witch (Gray Wolf Security #24)

“Mama, this is all too much,” whispered Gaspar, looking down at his mother in the casket. His father sat up abruptly, staring at his son. He was wearing his Sunday best, the blue suit, matching shirt, and tie.

“It has to be this way. We’ve moved on, Gaspar. We have no pulse. We are cold to the touch of anyone not in our family. No one will know that we are alive, in a manner of speaking,” said Matthew.

“I’m enjoyin’ the rest,” smirked Teddy.

“Good lord,” frowned Miller. “Fine. All of you just lie there and play dead or whatever the hell this is. We’re about to open the doors. For God’s sake, don’t let the priest know you’re alive.”

“You worry too much,” said Irene. “We’ve all had some tea that will allow us to lie still and not make a sound if you’d just leave us alone.”

“I guess I should count that as a blessing,” murmured Gaspar.

“Don’t make me give you warts,” smirked Irene.

“Can she do that?” asked Nine. Gaspar shrugged his shoulders and kissed his mother’s forehead.

“Who knows, brother. But I won’t take any chances.”

Turning, he looked at the already full church. There were hundreds of their family present, filling the pews. Others would have no option but to walk past, give their respects, and move on.

Nodding, Bodhi opened the doors to the cathedral.

People began trickling in at first, then hundreds filed through like they were attending a state funeral. Soft cries, prayers, and nods were given to the dozens of Robicheaux children, spouses, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.

Miss Ruby’s family sobbed, no one except Carsen knowing the truth.

She wanted to tell her mother, her aunts and uncles, but Ruby had insisted that no one except her should know the truth.

She understood. Her family was never one to keep a secret very well.

So, the burden of telling no one was now solely on her shoulders.

“I have to admit, they look pretty damn good,” said Wilson. “Keegan did an amazing job on the makeup, giving them all just the right amount of wrinkles.”

“They definitely look a bit different,” said Trak. He looked up to see his grandfather and Martha sitting on the windowsill of one of the stained-glass windows. Nathan casually waved, and Trak could only chuckle to himself.

“Any signs of our witch-hunter yet?” asked Miller.

“Not yet, but you can be damn sure he’ll show up to be certain they’re dead,” said Nine.

“I had Sly do a bit of research, and this asshole is no joke. He hunts people until they literally go mad. His ancestor was some famous witch-hunter in England. Tortured people into confessions like all the damn witch-hunters.”

“Well, then this should be fun,” said Miller. “If he thinks he can prove anything with Mama, or the others now, he’s got another think coming.”

Throughout the afternoon, mourners paid their respects, some staying to tell stories of Matthew and Irene and how they’d helped their business or saved them from eviction. Hundreds of people had been touched by their parents.

In their hearts, the children knew that to be true but hearing it and realizing that your parents were gone from the physical world was something completely different.

“We didn’t know what we were gonna do that Christmas,” smiled Novi Thibodeaux. “Seven babies under ten, all still believin’ in the magic, and I was gonna have to tell them there was no such thing as Santa Claus.”

Baptiste and Rafe smiled at the man, nodding.

“Your daddy showed up Christmas Eve with a basket of food, a sack full of toys, and a tree. Looked like damn Saint Nick himself. I never forgot that. Vowed to help with the drive every year, if I was able, and somehow, after that year, I was always able. Your mama and daddy were angels sent from heaven.” Rafe cleared his throat, nodding.

“Yes, sir. They were that. We were blessed to have them for so long.”

“I’m sure y’all are aware, but that damn Yankee boy is askin’ questions of everyone that will listen. Swears your mama is, was, a witch.”

“We’re aware. No doubt he’ll show up to be sure they’re gone. Alec is hoping for it,” smiled Baptiste. “He’d like to throw him out.”

“Well,” chuckled Novi, “I’d stick around to see that. I know y’all don’t need anything, but if you should ever need me or my family for anything, y’all just give us a call. We’ll be there. Me and mine.”

“Thank you, Novi,” said Rafe.

Men, women, and children filed past them, giving praise to the kind of people they were.

There were stories of Ruby giving single mothers jobs in her clubs and stores, saving them from the streets.

Others who were given loans by her so they could make it one more month in their homes.

No repayment was ever asked for. If they could give it back, wonderful. If not, that was okay as well.

They were surprised that even Teddy had a dozen people file past, having made the trip from out of town to say goodbye to the sweet old man.

“It’s almost seven,” said the priest. “Are y’all ready to start the service?”

“Yes, sir,” nodded Gaspar, looking at his siblings.

He swallowed, his eyes welling with tears.

He wasn’t sure why. They would be there for him, just like the other ghosts.

But the reality was, his parents were now ghosts.

Just as they were about to take their seats, a lone man entered the church and slowly walked down the aisle.

“I believe our witch-hunter has arrived,” said Marie, whispering to her siblings.

“What gave it away? The massive crucifix at his neck or the one in his hand? He’s accusing her of witchcraft, not of being a vampire,” whispered Luc.

“I don’t believe I know you,” said Camille, stepping forward. “Did you know our parents?”

“No,” he said firmly.

“No? Then perhaps you knew Ruby, Sven, or Teddy?” she asked.

“No,” he said again.

“I don’t know who you are, mister, but if you speak that way to my sister again, I’ll show you how we treat funeral crashers down here,” said Alec, standing over the man.

He backed up with an audible gasp that had the room chuckling at his expense.

“You’re all evil,” he whispered. Father Doiron stepped forward, frowning at the man.

“Now, see here. You will not speak ill of the dead in this house, and you definitely will not speak ill of these fine people. They have served this church, this community, and its people for more years than you’ve been alive.”

“That’s my point! They are witches!”

“They are dead,” growled Trak, gripping the man’s arm. “If you open your mouth one more time, I will cut out your tongue and bury it with them.”

“Y-you can’t touch me,” he stammered, gripping the crucifix. “They are not dead.”

“Are you a doctor?” asked Wilson. “We have several here that can attest to the fact that they are dead. Perhaps you’d like to feel for a pulse or place a mirror beneath their noses. Would that pacify you?”

He looked around at the angry faces but didn’t back down. Nodding, he dug a small hand mirror from his pocket and walked up to the caskets. One by one he stuck the mirror beneath their noses, muttering as he did.

He felt for pulses, cursing as he did. When he reached to touch the body of Irene, Gabe had seen enough.

“You touch my mother, and I will have you arrested for desecrating a dead body,” he said calmly.

“I am not desecrating anything! This is a trick. It’s all a trick. They are alive! I just know they are alive.” As he finished his sentence, three New Orleans police officers walked into the church, and Nine nodded in the direction of the caskets.

“Is there a problem, Father?” they asked the priest.

“This man seems intent on proving these poor people are not dead. I have five bodies. All passed from this earth, and he is preventing me from completing the service.”

“Sir, do you have a problem with dead bodies?” asked the officer.

“They are not dead! You’re all fools!”

“Now look here. Maybe in your part of the country, you can call people fools without just cause, but down here, we see that as cause to shoot a man.”

“How dare you! I’ll file charges,” he snapped.

“Well, now, you have the right to do that, and I have the right to arrest you as a guest of the New Orleans Parish Prison,” he said, taking the man’s arm.

“Gaspar, Miller, folks, we’re terribly sorry for your losses.

Your folks, Miss Ruby, all of ‘em were fine people. The best this world had to offer. We were lucky to have them so long. I guess your mama didn’t listen when we told her last time not to be drivin’ at her age.

” He gave a wink, and Gaspar chuckled, winking back.

“Let’s go, mister…”

“Hopkins. My name is Marcus Hopkins, and I am a world-famous witch-hunter,” he stated firmly.

“You are a world-famous nutcase,” smirked one of the other officers. “Let’s go. We got a bunch of ghosts you can rid of us at the jail.”

“I don’t hunt ghosts! They’re not real. I hunt witches.”