Chapter Thirty One
They walked in near silence as they trailed a mile behind the funeral procession. Every so often, Austin would be daring and go up close, so close that she could hear their voices. Sage’s voice was loudest of all, guiding them through the mountainous terrain. An older couple –at least, they sounded like a couple- would talk about Chelsea and what she had been like; they were probably her parents. Kai’s voice was softest of them all, and he only spoke sparingly.
“Too close,” Dustin hissed. He grabbed her and yanked her back so that they were both hidden behind a pine tree, just as Sage turned in their direction, “She’s not someone that you can easily sneak up on.”
“Sounds like you know her pretty well,” she whispered, shoving him away. Dustin shrugged in reply, “Or do you do just do research on people you’re likely to kill?”
“I grew up in Anathaem, Aussy,” he said, almost irritated. She let the nickname slide this time, surprised by his shortness. He was always such a suck up, “I knew them.”
“Right,” they waited, standing too close, as the funeral procession lumbered on. Strange enough, when Austin took one last look at them through the branches, she didn’t see a body. She made a move to follow them, but stopped when Dustin didn’t move.
“Here,” he threw something covered in plastic at her and she caught it out of the air.
She unwrapped it and stared at the sandwich, made of white bread, turkey, and not much else, “It’s not lunch yet.”
“Yeah it is,” Dustin said, taking his own out, “And even if it wasn’t, isn’t it an American tradition to stuff your face all day?”
“What day is it?” she asked. Dustin unwrapped his sandwich and stared at it.
“Thanksgiving,” he answered. He smiled.
It was already Thanksgiving? Demitri and her had always participated in human holidays, especially the ones involving food, and the later holidays were always her favorites. She bit her lip, deciding.
“Give me yours,” she said, and they switched. She didn’t trust Dustin enough to believe that they weren’t poisoned.
“Smith made them,” Dustin informed her, taking a bite. Some lettuce fell out, but he didn’t seem to care. He dug a metal container out of his backpack and unscrewed the cap, taking a sip once he sat on the ground. Austin crouched beside him, watching carefully, and he noticed, “Want some? It’s cranberry juice.”
She nodded, taking the cold containing from him. She swallowed , trusting that he hadn’t poisoned himself when he had taken a drink not ten seconds ago, and handed it back, “I like Thanksgiving.”
“Do you?” he asked.
“Did you already know that? I know that I’ve been stalked by a few people, so it wouldn’t be that surprising if you did, too,” she shrugged. Dustin shook his head.
“I had Mr. Smith watch over you for awhile, until he was absolutely sure that you were you,” he shrugged, “For all we knew, you could have been bait to get me out of hiding. Which you still might have been.”
“What gave me away?” she asked.
“Small things,” Dustin said, making it clear that he wouldn’t tell her, at least not right now. She looked at the ground and, for the rest of the day, tried to figure out was she was grateful for. The only thing that popped into her mind was such a…a Kai thing to think. She was grateful for tea.
And her jacket.
And words. She liked words. Words were nice. She was glad that words existed. That counted, right?
“They’ve set up camp,” Dustin caught hold of the back of her jacket and she swallowed as the neckline choked her, “Unless we want to get ahead of them, we should, too.”
He handed her a few hot pockets.
“Would a campfire really be all that noticeable?”
“Yeah, kind of,” he nodded, leaning against his backpack, “Goodnight, Austin.”
“Night,” she said, before she could stop herself. His eyes slammed shut and it was only when he started to snore that she let herself drift. They overslept, since no one stayed awake to keep watch to see when the other group would leave, but that was okay. They hurried through the bramble, forgetting to be cautious, and made it to the Cove in almost no time. Austin and he joined into the crowd at the main entrance and blended in, looking like nothing but the average tourist in Affelil.
They walked under a tacky sign made of wood that said, in very large words: THE COVE and TOURISTS WELCOME. They were immediately surrounded by people in jackets and some fire purebloods who, since they couldn’t feel the cold, were walking around in summery clothes and bathing suits. Dustin brought her into a tourist shop and bought a postcard and brochure, handing the latter to Austin. She stuffed it into her coat pocket and they walked outside.
“Wait,” Dustin put her hair into a tight ponytail and put up her hood so that only her bangs were visible, “Your hair is too noticeable.”
“Lots of fire dragons have red hair,” she pointed out, her voice tight. He was too close, and she was frozen. If he moved, she was afraid that she would lean into his hand, which was somehow all too familiar.
“Not as bright as yours, Aussy,” he chuckled. She lurched away from his touch, which had been unnecessarily lingering on her neck, “And I’m sorry.”
“For kidnapping me?” she hated that nickname, but not as much as she hated him, “Apology not accepted.”
His next words wrapped around her, making her flare hot and cold all at once, “For killing your friend.”
“She wasn’t my friend,” she whirled around, her voice icy and her glare burning hot, “She was my lab partner.”
“Then why are you upset?” Dustin blew his dark hair out of his eyes. She grit her teeth and stomped towards him. She pushed him against the brick wall of the souvenir shop and held her arm to his throat, trapping him. He didn’t offer any resistance.
“Because you killed her right in front of me,” she said in a harsh whisper, “You killed her like it was nothing. Did you even know her name?”
He stared at her, his eyes so clear that she had to fight the urge to look away, “Her name was Chelsea Vern. She was only five years older than me, so she would be thirty seven. She had a giant crush on Kai and loved human chick flicks. On her vacations, she would always find her favorite fountain, the one outside Kai’s shop, and sit on the edge, watching the people around her. She took care of me. She would always tell me to wait in Kai’s shop, and when she came to get me, she would take me to the human world. We would get ice cream.”
“Why did you kill her then?” she asked, her throat closing up. She looked away from his penetrating gaze, instead choosing to glare at the bridge of his nose.
“I couldn’t be caught by them, and I didn’t stand a chance against both of them, especially not if Aiden showed,” he sighed, “Who would you rather I killed? Kai or Chelsea?”
“You expect me to answer that?” she dropped her arm.
“Not out loud,” Dustin leaned in, forcing her to meet his eyes, “I’m fine with you remaining as pure as you can be, but that means I have to make the hard decisions without your feedback.”
“You’re always going to get it though,” she promised, bitterness still clear in everything she said, “My feedback, I mean.”
He grinned, “Always? Sweet.”
“And I won’t ever forgive you for killing her,” she said, walking away. He followed.
“I don’t expect you to,” he said and gestured towards the beach, where storm clouds hovered around the horizon, “I think we’ll have to stay the night here.”
“You can’t just go around killing people. You have to try to find some other way. God, Dustin. You have to try,” she sighed, her shoulders dropped, “Will the storm be too bad to travel in?”
“No, I never let a bit of rain stop me,” he shoved his hands into his sweatshirt pockets, “But Kai likes to take walks along the beach during a good storm.”
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“Kai?” she asked, happy despite her company. Dustin smiled at her reaction and nodded.
Kai.
Dustin led her through the maze of tourist shops until they reached the boardwalk. He handed her a pamphlet and they leaned against the wooden, sand imbedded rail as they watched the funeral from afar.
She watched, her face partially hidden behind a copy of The Cove’s Best Tourist Spots, as Kai reached a hand into the urn. His hand came out clenched, and when he opened it, a pile of dark gray dust sat in his hand. He watched, his expression hard, as the wind took the ashes and carried them into the ocean.
That was Chelsea, Austin realized. The dust. She was cremated.
Sage took another handful and the older, married couple who Austin thought were Chelsea’s parents scattered the ashes as well, and then it was back to Kai. He finished the job slowly, taking his time. Even from a distance, Austin could see his other hand tightened around the pot as he struggled to contain whatever he was feeling.
Who would you rather I have killed? Kai or Chelsea?
“I can’t watch this anymore,” she said, turning away. She wasn’t crying, “Can we do something else?”
“What do you want to do?” Dustin asked carefully, treating her like she was fragile. She wasn’t.
“I don’t know,” she said. She felt horrible. Why wasn’t she crying?