Page 9 of Bound By Fury

“Keep your fucking nonsense magical bullshit away from my daughter, or I swear to god you’ll never see us again!”

Now a skittering like a thousand spiders’ legs runs down my back, and I glance behind myself and into the throng of trees that stretch around the property.

In the distance, so quick I almost miss it—a vaguely human-shaped flash of white weaving between the pines.

“Sorry,” I say again, rubbing my eyes carefully as I turn around. My mind must be playing tricks on me. “But I wanted to take the time to thank everyone for showing up for Gigi today. I know how loved she was here in Earnest, and I know I’m not the only one who will miss her.”

At the edge of the crowd, something catches my attention. Floating in between the mourners. Red hair deepened to burgundy in the overcast light.

The back of my mouth turns sour.

“I wish I had—that I had more to say—that I could… that there was a way to put what I’m feeling into words—”

I follow the bobbing head until it disappears, another odd thing entering my line of sight.

Three hardened sets of eyes. Assessing.

“I’m so sorry… I—” For some reason I can’t look away. In the middle of the trio of strangers, a woman with deep brown skin glistening in the summer sun. Locs piled atop her head, shells and gold rings woven throughout. She’s stunning in a halting sort of way, but her gaze is sharp, and her scowl snatches the words right off my tongue.

I shake my head, mouth open and empty when a familiar trill like an alarm sounds from the woods. The answering flutter in my chest pulls me away from the woman’s hypnotizing stare.

Shame burns thick in my belly. I’ve completely butchered my speech. I’ve ruined the final send-off for the only person who ever truly, unconditionally, loved me.

Just as I’m about to give up completely, the crowd gasps, and something swoops overhead, so close to me that I duck on instinct.

It lands on the pale wooden box that holds my grandmother’s ashes. Its face, covered with a black mask of feathers, tips to the side, two beady eyes analyzing our group.

A cardinal.

I take a step back, my heart slamming against my ribs as my hand flies to my mouth. Though I’d recognized its call from the trees, salty tears still tinge my lips as I glance over at my mother, who is ashen.

Gigi always said the dead come back as cardinals. She seemed to feel a certain affection for them, often conflating the bird with the four cardinal signs of the zodiac, her rambling nonsense curving along roads only she could follow. Indecipherable tales about cardinals and elements and the crux of humanity.

But looking at it now, it’s just a bird.

So why am I crying?

“Well, would you look at that!” Maureen exclaims, clasping her hands together and approaching the creature. “Y’all know what Harper used to say, right? Leave it to her to visit her own funeral!”

The smile on her face is genuine as she bends down, her hand reaching toward its crimson coat. Spooked, the bird flies away, up and into the trees at the far side of the garden. When it disappears from sight, a sprinkling of laughter rises from the crowd, and I strain my eyes as I peer into the woods, in search of whatever else might have been hiding in there.

There’s a disturbance behind me, and I turn, lifting onto my toes in search of the source.

The three strangers from the back of the group—including the woman with piercing eyes—are stalking away. Not toward the house, but around the side like they intend to leave.

I step forward as if to follow them, though I’m not sure why, but I’m stopped by a clammy hand against my elbow. My mom rests her head on my shoulder. On instinct I wrap my arms around her.

After placing the biodegradable box into the hole in the ground, we take turns scooping fertilizer onto the base around the sapling. Once the tree is planted, we lay stones at its foot. Each holding a wish.

Secrets for Gigi to keep forever.

FIVE

WHEN THE CEREMONY IS COMPLETE, I make my way back into the living room and collapse onto the couch, my hand still clutching a pilfered rosy-pink flute of champagne.

I smile politely at the guests who make small talk or comment on what was said during the funeral. Though I try, I can’t stop replaying the events of the day, lingering on the pains of my grief. I can’t stop stressing over the decision that underlies everything that’s happened since the unsolicited acceptance letter to Black Mountain Academy landed on my desk.

Was the cardinal swooping in from the trees a good sign? A signal that Gigi will support me from beyond the grave—or tree—no matter what decision I make about BMA? Or was it a warning? Gigi reminding me that Earnest rots from the inside, and the core of the rot is in the center of the illustrious school.