Chapter 17: Alexis

Chapter 17: Alexis

“The audacity of that fucking asshole!” I yelled and angrily threw a huge rock into the shallow depths of the warehouse harbor. My body quivered as Will finished telling me of his confrontation with Ralph.

“I was outnumbered and with snipers, apparently,” Will said. “I don’t know anyone who’s gotten shot with around fifty snipers and lived to tell the tale. A single sniper bullet is bigger than my index finger and thicker than my thumb. Now imagine if you’re shot with fifty of them at the same time. Your body would explode. For the briefest moment, you’d be alive to experience all of that pain, and then you’d die an agonizing death.”

“I wouldn’t put it past those fucking vampires to do something like that,” I said. “Every time they do something like this, I’m reminded of the night they killed my parents. I was young, but I remember every second of it. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of that horrible night.”

“Perhaps if you share with me, it will take some of the pain away,” Will said.

“Fine.” I took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. It was my break time anyway. Today there was nothing much to do at the warehouse. “Maybe it will help.”

***

Dad was the pack’s alpha, which meant that we didn’t get many chances to enjoy a family holiday. He was a very hands-on person, concerned for every single member of the pack. Mom never minded that. She loved him for who he was, and she loved the fact that he cared so fiercely for the pack.

Mom spent most of her time recording songs in the home studio. By popular demand of the townsfolk, she’d visit the town on the weekends to perform her music. Bars, clubs, restaurants, small-time gigs like that. Mother never had her eyes on achieving fame or anything like that. Music was her singular passion. It wasn’t as if she didn’t get the chance to become famous. Some of her songs made it to the big labels, and they even offered to sign her up, but mom always said the same thing to them. That she was not doing it for the money. She did not want to taint her love for music with something as fickle as money.

I grew up in the most harmonious household. Mom would always be humming, and dad would always be dancing to her tunes. It was a perfect life. Dad taught history at the community college every alternate day. He had a degree in history from the University of Maine. Given that he was the alpha, he could only spare a few hours every day to go teach a lecture at the college.

The day they died was special. It was my birthday. Mom wanted to do something big, and dad agreed with her. They took me to the Derry Carnival in Maine. For me, it was everything I had ever wanted. Roller-coasters, clown cars, merry-go-rounds, and hundreds of stalls where I could play games, buy food, or watch the performers do tricks. I still remember how it all smelled. It smelled of roasted peanuts and cotton candy.

We had a nice family dinner at a quaint little restaurant on our way back. Then, to my surprise, mom got up on the stage and even performed a special song of hers, earning much applause from the crowd.

While returning to Fiddler’s Green, I was sitting in the back seat, a conical birthday hat on my head, party streamers in my hands, and my eyes on the big pile of gifts wrapped and bowed. I couldn’t wait to go home and tear each of these boxes open and see what my parents had gifted me.

But that never happened. At the entrance of Fiddler’s Green, our truck’s tires gave out. Dad got out to fix it. Mom turned around and looked at me with her eyes filled with love.

“Did my baby have fun today?”

I nodded at her and smiled a big toothless grin.

“We love you, Lexi,” mom said, ruffling my hair and taking off my birthday hat. “Always remember that.”

The next thing I knew, my dad was in a verbal altercation with two men wearing long trench coats. As I peeked from behind the window, I saw the two guys jump him with a crowbar, never even giving him a chance to shift and fight them. They bludgeoned him to death in front of my eyes.

“All right there, love?” one of them said in an unmistakable accent as he poked his head through the window and grabbed my mom by the throat. “I’m afraid it’s lights out for you and your hubby, dearie.”

As mom began to shift, the vampire let her go and backed away, taking out his gun and aiming it at her. Mom leaped out of the car and slashed at the vampire, tearing away at his face.

But before she could do much more, the sound of a gunshot rang through the silent night, leaving my mom lying in a pool of her own blood, whimpering weakly as life escaped her.

“What do we do, bruv?” One of the vampires asked the other.

“We leave. Your face’s all ripped up, innit?”

“Bollocks. What do we do about the kid?”

“Ah, leave her be. You don’t kill a kid on their birthday. It’s bad karma.”

Then the vampires surrounded my car and peeped in through the window at me.

“It’s a pity you had to see that, kid,” the one with the slashes ripped across his face said, grinning with a bloody face.

“It’s not personal, little pup. We were following orders,” the other one said and then burst into hysterical laughter.

I did not know how long I stayed in the backseat, crying, petrified, and unable to move. I didn’t dare to look out of the window. I couldn’t perceive what had happened. How could it be that a day could be as magical as it was an hour ago and then turn into the worst nightmare just moments later?

My parents, dead?

***

“It was early in the morning when some people from the pack came looking for us. They took me out of the car and brought me back to the commune. I don’t remember the funeral. I was too mortified to leave my home,” I said. “Even to this day, I can’t bring myself to go to the cemetery where they’re buried. It’s just too painful.”

“I am so sorry to hear that,” Will said, putting his hand on my shoulder and squeezing it. “You never got to say goodbye to your parents.”

“What do you mean?”

“When my parents died, they did so because of old age. Even though it was still painful to see them go, we exchanged our final words. It was oddly poetic. I buried them myself. I got to say goodbye. You never got the chance to say goodbye,” Will said.

“It’s a little too late to do that, isn’t it?”

“You can always say goodbye to them. Come with me.” Will held his hand out. I took it and hoisted myself to my feet.

“Where are we going?”

“To the cemetery. I think it’s going to be good for you. You can bid them farewell, get to say what you never got a chance to say to them.”

“Will, I don’t think I’m ready for that,” I said. I was still feeling emotionally raw from recounting that horrific story.

“They’re never really gone, you know,” Will said, taking my hand in his hands. “They’re here with us. In here,” he put my hand on my heart. “And in here.” He guided my hand to my head.

The cemetery was in a part of town I had never visited before. It was to the left of the Grimm Abode, cradled between the commune and the town. It was surrounded by Fiddler’s Forest on two sides.

It was a beautiful place. Long green grass waved in the wind. Flowers grew out of the graves of those buried below. Many wreaths were hung from the tombstones of the dead. But the most beautiful thing here was the giant ash tree at the center of the cemetery, its branches extending so far and wide that it was almost covering the entire place in its shadow. Nearby, a stream of water babbled as it wove through the cemetery.

Other than the sound of running water, birds chirping, and the gentle rustle of leaves and grass in the wind, the place was utterly quiet.

Wordlessly, we sifted through the graves, reading names that we didn’t recognize, pondering what kind of lives these people had lived. Will came to a halt and pointed to two graves adjacent to each other.

“Look, Alexis. Nina Simone. Simon Richards. Your parents,” he whispered.

I didn’t have any words to describe what I was experiencing. It wasn’t sadness. I had been sad over the death of my parents for years. This was a different feeling. I didn’t know what it was. Just looking at their graves, covered with green grass, made me feel like they were here. And that they were letting me know that wherever they were, they were okay and thinking about me. I felt as if they were trying to tell me that they were looking over me.

I understood then that I was experiencing closure in one of its many forms. Seeing their graves conjured a mental image of them lying together, hand in hand, their faces smiling, their eyes closed. It was as if they were resting in some metaphysical plain where things like pain and sadness didn’t exist. They were resting.

“Can I have some moments to myself, please?” I asked Will. He nodded solemnly and backed off a few steps.

“Hey, mom. Hey dad,” I said, kneeling beside their graves. “I’m sorry it took such a long time for me to come here. I hope you understand that I was still going through grief. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss you. Your singing, mom. Your dancing, dad. It’s like whenever I close my eyes, I can see you two singing and dancing with each other, and it makes me jealous that I’m not there with you, wherever you are. I wish you were here. Your little girl is all grown up now, but she still needs her parents.”

At that moment, a strong, cool wind blew around me, rustling the fallen leaves and making the grass whisper. If I had needed a sign, this was it. It was good enough for me.

“My…err…Will told me that I should come to say goodbye to you, but now that I’m here, it feels like I’ve come here to say hello. I hope your souls are at peace.” Then I kissed my hands and placed them on each grave.

I stood there for a long time, looking at their graves and reading the words on their tombstones. Mom’s tombstone said: “Nina Simone. Loving Mother, Caring Wife, and an Exceptional Singer. May your voice join those of the angels.”

Dad’s tombstone said: “Simon Richards. Loving Father, Devoted Husband, and Brave Leader. May you feast in the halls of your forefathers.”

When I turned around, Will wasn’t there. He was standing on the other side of the cemetery. When I walked over to him, I found him looking at my grandmother’s grave.

“Sometimes I imagine how it would have been if I had never been imprisoned,” Will whispered, looking at Ariana’s tombstone intently. “This could have been me.”

“Huh?”

“Ariana is dead. Look at all the graves around her. All of these belong to the people who came with me from Germany to America. All of my pack members. If Edward Beckett hadn’t experimented upon me, I would have still been a regular old werewolf, and I would have died. I would have missed out on so much.”

“Will, can we go?” I asked. “I know you said that this would bring me some sort of closure, but the longer I linger here, the more unnerved I’m getting.”

“What do you think would make you feel better? You made me feel better. The least I can do is repay that favor,” Will said.

I did not want to say it. I knew that uttering something so dark would forever change the way Will would think about me. It would go against most of the principles I stood for.

“Tell me,” he insisted.

“You’re gonna hate me for suggesting it,” I said, afraid of what I was about to say.

“Judgement-free zone. Lay it on me,” Will said.

“The thought that the vampires who killed my parents are still out there...it’s tearing me apart. Do I not deserve the right to take revenge?” My heart was palpitating now, and my mouth was completely dry. How would he respond to this?

To my surprise, he said, “You’re perfectly within your right to do that. I’ll even help you,” Will said, placing a hand on my shoulder.

Will had spoken so many times of the uncontrollable metaphorical beast of rage that he wasn’t able to control. I understood him now. As I stood there, imagining the two vampires who had murdered my parents in front of me, I felt the same beast stir inside me.