The Afterliving (His Blood & Silver Series Book 1)

by Fernando Rivera

  By the time I exit St. Nicholas, only a handful of people remain in the church courtyard. I’m soon approached by a petite woman in a veiled hat. She waves her hand. “Pardon me, lad? Hello?”

  “Hi.”

  “You gave a marvelous speech today, dearie. Isidore would be proud. You have his charisma. It shows, yes it does. I can see it in your eyes.” The woman lifts her laced veil and extends her hand. “Helena Edith Dunstan, of Dunstan Hills, up in Scotland.” She removes her sunglasses to reveal beautiful violet eyes, peppered with flecks of red around the pupil.

  “Nice to meet you, Ms. Dunstan.”

  “Please, dearie, call me Edie. Your father always did. I’d wager my lot Micah has you picking up where Isidore left off. In the nick of time, too. God rest his soul.”

  “Edie,” Micah exclaims, “I should have known you would be the one keeping my grandson busy.”

  Edith smiles and returns the sunglasses to her eyes. “I was about to ask this fine young lad if he’s chosen a Patron.”

  “A Patron?”

  “Oh, Edie. I’m afraid you’ve spoken out of place. Manny is here temporarily, paying respects to his father and his family. He must return to his exciting life in California, straight away.”

  “Oh? California?”

  “Yes. So any talk of business is not only inappropriate but completely misdirected.”

  “But Micah, don’t you think — ”

  “Thank you for coming, Edie. Have a lovely evening.”

  Edith’s taken aback. “Yes. Of course. Very well, then.” She lowers her black veil and excuses herself.

  “What did she mean by choosing a Patron?” I ask.

  “Nothing you should be concerned with, I assure you.” Micah lowers his voice and leans in. “Edith isn’t well, you see.”

  “Is she on meds or something?”

  “One would hope so. But don’t let the old bat fool you. She can be a pain, in all senses of the word, and quite the gossip.” Micah becomes distracted by another funeral attendee. “And speaking of pain…”

  The man with the cane approaches.

  Micah stands taller. “Good afternoon, Wolfgang. Manny, this is Wolfgang Schmitt.”

  “Nice to meet you, Mr.” — I pause, half expecting his gray eyes to shimmer like before — “Schmitt.”

  Wolfgang smiles. “Cat got your tongue?”

  “More like dog,” Micah jokes.

  Wolfgang laughs. “Well, there’s no need for formalities, young man. Call me Wolfgang. We’ve heard a lot about you, you know.”

  “You have?”

  “Indeed. Isidore was a most esteemed colleague of mine. In fact, news of his passing has had a tremendous effect on my affiliates. I want you to know you have our condolences.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And if you’re interested, it would be an honor to host you at one of our local offices. There are a lot of people who wish to meet you.”

  Meet me?

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Micah interjects. “Manny’s stay in Devil’s Dyke is limited, and his mum prefers he spend the little time he has with family. But we appreciate the gesture, Wolfgang. Thank you.”

  “Of course.” Wolfgang’s voice is polite, but the tightness in his jaw would imply otherwise. “And speaking of family, Emmanuel, has anybody told you you bear a striking resemblance to James? Why, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were twins.”

  The smile disappears from Micah’s face.

  “Well, I really must be off.” Wolfgang extends his hand to shake mine, slipping a business card between my fingers: Woodland Imports. “I’m in London overseeing an investment for the next few days. If your plans change, give me a ring. I guarantee it will be worth your while. Cheers.” Wolfgang departs, cane in hand, taking long, powerful strides toward the white Lamborghini.

  “Did my father like him?” I inquire, once Wolfgang has entered his car.

  “Isidore respected him. Wolfgang is a powerful man.”

  That wasn’t an answer, but I can take a hint.

  Lucy appears around the side of the church.

  “Why don’t you meet us later?” Micah suggests. “You can take James’ car.” He hands me a set of keys from his pocket.

  “No. That’s okay.”

  “Poppycock. I insist. Just remember to drive on the left side of the road. And the estate is already programmed into the sat nav. Just tell it to take you home.” Micah winks and directs the rest of our party into the other Phantom.

  Lucy approaches. “I’m so sorry for arriving late. Henry had to retrieve his suit in London and returned to the manor just before the ceremony.”

  Returned to the manor? “Does Henry stay with you?”

  “Yes. That’s part of his job,” she adds.

  My gut tightens. “Oh.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “Problem? Of course not. Why would that be a problem? It makes perfect sense” — for two attractive people to sleep under the same roof and never think of each other sexually. “When do I get to meet him?”

  Lucy waves her hand at one of the cars parked along the curb — a red Mercedes sports coupe — and out steps Henry. By the time he reaches us, the knot in my stomach has solidified.

  “Hello? Manny?” Lucy waves her hand in front of my face. “I said, ‘This is Henry.’”

  Henry extends his hand and smiles. His green eyes pop against his mocha skin. “Henry Linden. Pleasure to meet you, mate.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, too, mate.” I receive Henry’s hand. His grip is twice as strong as Gabriel’s. “Whoa.” I pull away, unable to hide the discomfort on my face. “That’s a firm grip you got there.”

  Henry’s grin disappears. “I’m so, so sorry, mate. I tend to forget my own strength. Did I hurt you?”

  Almost. “No. I think I just grabbed your hand wrong.”

  “Shall we try again?”

  “Henry, please. He’s fine,” Lucy blurts. “Henry can be a bit of a brute. He played for the Quins a while back.”

  “The Quins?”

  “The Harlequins,” Henry replies. “It’s a rugby club.”

  Of course it is.

  “When do you return to the States?” Lucy asks.

  “Tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Oh, Manny, that’s much too soon.”

  “Yes, Manny, much too soon,” Henry echoes.

  “Will I get to see you before then?” she inquires.

  “Let me check.” Henry whips out his phone, swiping the screen multiple times. “We have an appointment in Rottingdean at three — a high priority ten. But I could rescue you from four thirty to six. That appointment’s a low priority two.”

  Lucy checks the phone. “Henry, there’s no way I’m letting you approve the samples for the new office on your own,” she laughs. “He was born virtually color-blind,” she tells me.

  Henry blushes. “It’s true. I’d be a colorful mess if Luce didn’t inspect my work attire every other morning.”

  Luce?

  “What about a six thirty supper?” Lucy suggests.

  “Sure. Supper could work.”

  “Your six thirty is an eight, too important to miss,” Henry states. “How about tonight, Manny, after nine?”

  Like before, the tension in my stomach climbs to my throat. “Great,” I reply through clenched teeth.

  “No, Henry. We absolutely can’t tonight.”

  For God’s sake — “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I forgot I promised my mom I’d spend the rest of the evening with her. But hey, we had a good amount of time together yesterday. Wouldn’t wanna overdo it, you know.”

  Lucy’s smile fades. “Yes. We wouldn’t want that.”

  “It was great catching up, and it’s nice to see you’re doi
ng so well. You’re in good hands,” I add, indicating Henry.

  “The best,” he responds.

  “Well, if I can persuade you to change your mind and stay a bit longer — ”

  “Our flights are already booked.”

  “I’m sure Micah can have them changed. And I could tell you more about your father.”

  “Lucy, I can’t.”

  “Right. No, you’re right. Well, then” — she pinches the sides of her crucifix — “it was wonderful seeing you again. Best of luck.”

  “You, too. Both of you.”

  “Thanks, mate. Cheers.”

  Call me mate one more time… “Cheers.”

  Lucy nods. “Bye for now.”

  Between Lucy, Henry, and Isidore’s funeral, only one thing can make this day better: food. Without the Dexolfor, eating’s the only thing on this trip bringing me peace of mind. So instead of driving back to the estate, I walk to a nearby Pret A Manger cafe. After my second sandwich, I begin to feel somewhat normal again.

  When leaving the store, I notice a yellow sign hanging on the wall near the exit: CCTV on premises. Just above that is the domed lens of a security camera, but it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen. There’s a thick turquoise ring glowing in its center, like an artificial iris. It reminds me of Micah’s eyes, only more electric.

  In an instant, it’s gone.

  “Everything all right?” a barista asks.

  I point to the sleeping eye. “I think one of your cameras is broken.”

  The barista takes a closer look. “Looks fine to me.”

  It’s close to dusk by the time I return to the Phantom. During the drive back to the estate, I pull down the visor to shield my eyes from the setting sun, and a black-and-white photo falls into my lap. It’s my parents at Brighton Beach. If Mom didn’t look so young, I’d swear it was a current picture of her and James instead of an older picture of her and Isidore. Why would James have a picture of my parents?

  There’s a six-digit number on the bottom right corner of the picture: 19091 —

  My eyes drift up to see the reflective grill of an oncoming car. I swerve right, narrowly escaping a head-on collision, then slam on the brakes. The Phantom stops just short of a ditch.

  The other vehicle drives on, disappearing around a bend in Devil’s Dyke Road.

  There’s an urgent knock on my window.

  It’s Edith, the woman with the violet eyes. What is she doing out here? I tuck the photo into my jacket pocket and step out of the car.

  “Saints be praised, you’re all right! What were you thinking? This isn’t California. Left-hand side of the road. Left.”

  “I know, I know. I’m sorry. But I’m okay.”

  “By the skin of your teeth. Where’s your family?”

  “They drove ahead.”

  She pokes her head into the Phantom, and her violet eyes sparkle. “So you’re alone, then?”

  For the first time, I’m relieved to smell the stench of Stockton Farms and Weston Acres. It means I’m not far from the estate. “They’re expecting me any minute, so I need to get going. Thank you for stopping, Edie.” I scan the shoulder behind me. “Where’s your car?”

  “My car? Er… It’s back at the inn, which is — ” Edith looks up and down the deserted stretch of road “ — that way?”

  “So what are you doing all the way out here?”

  “Evening stroll, dearie. Helps ease the indigestion.” Edith wrings the handle of her purse. “Heavens…”

  “What?”

  “I can’t remember where… It was a brown building, I’m certain.”

  “You can’t remember where you’re staying?”

  “Not at the current moment. But not to worry.” She shakes her finger in the air. “It will come. Can I trouble you for a ride into town? I’m sure I’ll recognize it when I see it. Then I can make us a nice spot of tea, and oh! I purchased some fresh cakes this morning. Delicious.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, but thank you.” I reach for the door.

  Edith steps forward and wraps her bony fingers around my wrist. “Why not?” The specks of red in her violet eyes become more pronounced as her skin vibrates with a quiet intensity.

  “Because my family is expecting me,” I assert, “and I don’t want my mom to worry.”

  She blinks, and her eyes return to their normal shade of violet. “Oh, yes. Of course, of course. What was I thinking?” She releases my wrist. “You’ll have to forgive me. Isidore’s death has me highly strung.”

  “That’s okay. I think all of us are dealing with it in our own way. Good night, Edie.”

  “Emmanuel, wait. Don’t leave. I want you to know, I heard you. We all did. At the funeral. Clear as a whistle.”

  “My speech?”

  Edith stares in disbelief. “You really don’t know?”

  “Know what?”

  “Never you mind. Forget I mentioned it.” Her eyes light up, and a smile spreads across her face. “I need to hurry. Cheers.” She scurries away.

  “Wait.”

  “I can’t wait, dearie. I’ll lose it. You understand.”

  “Lose what?”

  “The name of my inn,” Edith laughs. “I haven’t a moment to spare.” She continues in the direction of town. “I would hate to get caught out here in the dark. An old woman like me.”

  “What’s it called?”

  “What is what called?”

  “Where you’re staying.”

  “An inn.”

  “Yes. I know that. Tell me the name.”

  “What name?”

  “The name of your inn!” I shout, losing my patience.

  She yelps, startled. “It’s… It’s… It’s slipped my mind again. How about that? Can I trouble you for a ride into town? I can make us a nice spot of tea, and I purchased some fresh cakes this morning. Delicious.”

  Micah was right. This woman is a pain.

  “Why don’t I give you a ride to the estate? Then we can figure out where you’re staying, and Gabriel can drive you back.”

  “That would be lovely.” She rushes to the passenger side of the Phantom. “Just remember to stick to the left, dearie. The left.”

  The ride back is silent — tense.

  “So what did you mean earlier,” I say, “when you asked me if I had chosen a Patron?”

  “Oh, that? Yes. Well, you must choose a Patron for your Baptism. It’s tradition.”

  “I’m pretty sure I was already baptized.”

  She cackles at my response.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You have Isidore’s sense of humor; how absolutely lovely. And his eyes, as well. Tell me, does their color suit you?”

  That’s a weird question. “The color of my eyes? I’ve never given it much thought.”

  “Your uncle used to have brown eyes, too, but he grew out of them.”

  “Grew out of them?”

  “Oh, dear. Emmanuel!”

  “What, what?” My eyes return to the road, expecting to see another car or a sheep.

  “Autumn Terrace.”

  “Autumn Terrace?”

  “My inn. That’s my inn. The Autumn Terrace.”

  A wave of relief washes over me when we reach the access road to the Stockton property — I need to get away from this woman — and I waste no time exiting the vehicle.

  The front door of the estate bursts open, and my mother storms out of the house. “Where have you been? You should have been home hours ago.”

  “Sorry. I stopped to get a bite to eat. Lost track of time.”

  “You were supposed to come straight home.”

  Micah joins her on the porch, wine goblet in hand. “I told you he would be all right, Minerva.” But his smile fades when he notices E
dith. “Edie, to what do we owe this pleasure?”

  “Well, I was on one of my evening strolls, you see, on account of the indigestion, when I noticed your car stalled on the side of the road.”

  “The side of the road?” Mom’s green eyes burn bright. “What were you doing pulled over to the side of the road, Manuel?”

  “Nothing.” I do my best to stay cool, but her manic energy is too contagious.

  “Why were you pulled over to the side of the road?” she persists.

  “I just was, okay?”

  “Honestly, Mina, the lad meant no harm. He was merely admiring the countryside. A change of pace from the California palm trees,” Edith laughs.

  My mother is not amused.

  “I know what we need. A nice spot of tea.”

  “I don’t need tea, Edith. I need my son to be responsible and think about how his actions affect this family. You can’t just take your uncle’s car and come home any time you feel like it.”

  “But — ” I try to reason with her.

  “I didn’t raise you to be this inconsiderate, Manuel.”

  My patience wears thin.

  “We did not come halfway across the world so you could take advantage of your grandfather’s generosity and go for some joyride to God-knows-where.”

  Calm down, Mom.

  “Don’t you tell me to calm down!”

  “I didn’t,” I shout, matching her intensity.

  “Don’t take that tone with me!”

  I hold my tongue but not my thoughts: Then quit being such a bitch!

  Mom’s eyes flicker, and her palm collides with my cheek. “How dare you,” she shrieks. The force of the blow almost knocks me to the ground.

  “Mina!” James roars.

  Where’d he come from?

  James is suddenly at my mother’s side, cradling her face in his hands. He looks into her eyes. “The boy lost track of time.”

  Mom’s face softens, and her tone becomes more subdued. “He did?”

  “He did. It was an honest mistake.”

  “Of course. An honest mistake,” she repeats.

  “You are calm.”

  “I am calm.”

  “You are sorry.”

  “I am sorry.”

  “You want to finish packing.”