remained. Mrs. Kirby slid her arm around my shoulders and tugged gently, pulling me away from the grave. I dug my heels in, literally. She stopped when I did.
“I’ll find a way home. I’d like to stay for a while.”
“Carson,” Mrs. Kirby began, her pained expression conveying more than her words ever could. The indecision that warred within her was plain on her face. I knew she was teetering between giving me some time with my father and not leaving me alone in case I was unstable.
“Thank you both for…everything. But really, I’ll be fine. I just need some time.”
Though she teetered a few seconds more, I saw when the scales tipped in my favor. With a nod of her head, she stepped away from me and, grudgingly, they left.
When the sound of their engine had faded into the distance, I walked to the edge of the casket. I was finally alone with my father. For the last time.
I struggled for words, but none came. My eyes burned with tears, but none fell. The sweet smell of roses taunted my nose. There was a huge spray on top of the coffin. It had all sorts of flowers in it, but I only recognized one—the roses.
I reached out to touch one ruby petal, barely able to feel the satin texture against my fingertip. They were so beautiful and they smelled so good. I cupped one scented blossom in my hand.
Anger welled within me. How dare they? On the worst day of my life, how dare they be anything but black and dead? How dare they be beautiful and vibrant and alive?
My fingers closed around the delicate bulb until I felt it crush against my palm. Perversely, I felt a little bit better for having hurt it—like I was hurting.
I looked around at all the floral arrangements. Dozens of varieties covered the ground for ten feet in every direction. None of them deserved to live and shine; they should all be dead and lifeless, like me I felt dead and lifeless.
Bitterness poured through me, warring with my ever-present anger. My right shoulder blade stung as my emotions churned. I felt a thousand things at once and, at the same time, nothing.
I opened my hand and looked down at the pulverized rose bud. It lay limply on my palm, black and dead. I closed my eyes against the rage, concentrated on pushing the fury back down inside me.
As I struggled, I felt the pull of something familiar and powerful, something that tempered the explosiveness that swirled within me. I opened my eyes to Derek. He had materialized in front of me on the other side of the casket.
He was wearing his customary black attire, which was depressingly appropriate for once. But this time he wore a dress shirt and slacks topped with a duster, also in black. His pale gray eyes glistened like sparkling drops of silver in his bronzed face.
He cleared his throat and brought me back from my musings. It was then that I noticed the backdrop was dark as well. Behind him, all around the grave, were dead flowers. All the arrangements that had been vibrant only moments before were dead, their edges black and curled. The grass was dead, too; it made a brown circle that radiated out from the grave site.
“What happened?”
Derek shrugged. The casual gesture was belied by the deep frown of concern that etched his brow.
“Are you going to be alright?”
A derisive snort escaped. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Look, I—”
“I mean, why wouldn’t I be alright? I’m a probably-cursed, possibly-dead, fire-wielding, plant-killing, ghost-seeing orphan with a second skin. Why on earth wouldn’t I be alright?” Though I knew he was only trying to help in his backward way, I couldn’t help the sarcastic, near-hysterical bark of laughter that followed my bitter diatribe.
“I know how much you’re hurting—”
“Oh, you do, huh? And just how do you imagine you know how I feel?”
“We’ve all lost people we love, Carson,” he snapped then, as if he immediately regretted it, ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, pulling several glossy strands loose from his low ponytail. “Just trust me. I know more about what you’re going through than you think.”
I glared at him as long as I dared before looking away. I stared at the rose in my hand. I wanted to crush everyone and everything around me, just like I’d crushed the rose. I was seething on the inside.
Then a butterfly lit on the devastated blossom. As if I wasn’t