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maybe even her mother. Even for Dana herself, there was tragedy here. She'd gone to a good place, and I
was sure she'd be happy, but that didn't mean her life hadn't been cut short, that she hadn't missed out on so
much. And for what? To avenge the death of a vampire who had herself killed so many, gone so far
beyond the needs of her nature? As I stood in that cemetery, listening to the minister try to eulogize a girl
he'd never met, I looked out across the graves and thought of all the other fresh graves in other Cabal
cemeteries. I glanced over at Savannah, and thought about Joey Nast, the cousin she never knew. On the
other side of the group of mourners, I could see Holden Wyngaard, a plump red-haired boy, now the lone
survivor. I thought of the others. Jacob Sorenson. Stephen St. Cloud. Colby Washington. Sarah Dermack.
Michael Shane. Matthew Tucker. All gone. And how many tombstones would it take to commemorate the
lives of everyone else Edward and Natasha had killed, the scores of humans they'd murdered trying to
become immortal? I thought of that, of all those lives, and I couldn't for one second disagree with what
Benicio had done. No matter what kind of hell Edward now faced, it was no less than he deserved.
I looked out at the small crowd gathered around Dana's open grave. Her mother wasn't there. I still
wondered what had gone wrong in that woman's life to make her abandon her daughter, and I couldn't help
but wonder whether having a Coven would have helped. I'm sure it would have, at least for Dana. If she'd
had other witches to turn to, she would never have ended up on the streets of Atlanta, and now here.
Yet, as bad as I felt for Dana, I had to accept that the responsibility for starting a second Coven did
not lie squarely on my shoulders. I was willing to start one. I would always be willing, and I'd make that
willingness known, but I would no longer actively try to convince witches that they needed a Coven. They
had to come to see that for themselves. In the meantime, I certainly didn't lack for work. I had an
interracial council to reform and a new partnership with Lucas to pursue. Yes, I would have been more
comfortable pouring my energy into a dream that started with me, but I think part of growing up is realizing
that everything doesn't have to be mine. It could be ours, and that wasn't a show of weakness or
dependence. I liked what Lucas did. I believed in it. I wanted to share it. And, if he wanted to share it back,
well, that was damned near perfect.
When the service ended, Benicio leaned over and whispered an invitation to lunch, before we left
for Portland. We agreed, and he slipped away to offer final condolences to Randy MacArthur.
The others had all gone their separate ways. The werewolves left Miami the morning after the
showdown with Edward. Cassandra and Aaron had followed later that day, after they'd met with Benicio
and the other CEOs to discuss possible fallout between the Cabals and the vampire community. Jaime had
done her Halloween show in Memphis the night before, then zipped back to attend Dana's morning
memorial service before returning to Tennessee for her next show.
As the mourners drifted away from the grave site, I glanced back one last time. Lucas took my
hand and squeezed it.
"She'll be okay," he said.
I managed a smile. "I know she will."
"Mr. Cortez? Ms. Winterbourne?"
We turned to see Randy MacArthur behind us, looking uncomfortable in a too-tight black suit. His
hand rested on the shoulder of an equally uncomfortable-looking young girl with Dana's long blond hair.
"I we wanted to thank you," he said. "For stopping him. This it should never I don't know how
it happened. I had no idea how bad things were "
"It's okay, Dad," the girl murmured, her red-rimmed eyes fixed on the ground. "It was Mom's fault.
Her and that guy. He didn't want kids, and she let him chase Dana off."
"This is Gillian," Randy said. "Dana's sister. I'm going to be looking after her now. Mr. Cortez is
giving me a job in town here, so I can stay with her."
"That's great," I said. I tried to catch Gillian's eye and smiled. "You must be what, thirteen?
Fourteen? Just starting your second-level spells, I bet."
Gillian looked up at me and for a moment, her eyes were blank, then she realized what I meant.
"Spells, no, we don't do that. My mom, I mean. She never . . . well, not much."
"That was, uh, one reason I wanted to speak to you before you left," Randy said. "I know Miss
Nast here is about Gillian's age . . ."
It took a moment for me to realize he meant Savannah.
Randy continued. "I know that you're teaching her, and that you used to be with the Coven and you
did some teaching there, so I thought maybe you could help Gillian. Long-distance, of course. By phone or
e-mail or whatever, maybe visit when you're in town, or we could visit up there. I'll pay you, of course. I
hate to impose, but I don't know any other witches. My ex-wife didn't keep in contact with her sister, and I
wouldn't even know where to find her, but I really want Gillian to know more, to be able to cast spells, so
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