Darkness Unbound (Dark Angels 1)

It was tempting.

But if I did that, then I would never know who killed her, or why.

And I would never taste the sweetness of revenge.

It was that need, more than anything, that eventually dragged me back to the realm of full awareness.

Which didn’t mean the days that followed became any clearer or that the pain eased. My body might have started healing itself, but my heart was broken, and no amount of consoling from my second family or my friends could ever heal that.

Mom was gone.

End of story—at least in this life, this time, and with me.

I could only hope that we’d meet again, somewhere down the track in another lifetime—because we at least still had that. Azriel had assured me that her soul had moved on, and that she could be reborn. Unlike little Hanna, who was gone forever. But at least I’d given her vengeance.

Mine would come.

I held on to that knowledge fiercely, feeling it wrap around me like a security blanket, letting it warm me and give me strength as we sorted through the mess that was the investigation—an investigation that got nowhere fast—and then finally the funeral arrangements once the remnants of her body had been released.

But Mom was a media star, and her funeral was a circus. I went through the motions, constantly flanked by someone who cared—Riley and Quinn, Liander and Rhoan, or Tao and Ilianna, Liana, Ronan, and Darci—smiling vacantly and answering by rote when confronted by reporters or her many clients.

Even Lucian was there, keeping his distance but nevertheless letting me know that he was close if I needed him.

We held her real service a few days later. It was small and intimate, just Riley, Quinn, Rhoan, Liander, and all their children, as well as what remained of my family—Tao and Ilianna. Mike was also there, and though he showed no outward sign of grief, he seemed even more remote than usual. We shared her favorite champagne and stories of her life as a wolf chaplain blessed her body while she passed through to cremation.

Which had led me here, standing alone in a clearing in the middle of this vast, wooded stretch of land situated near Harrietville, high in the Victorian Alps region.

She’d owned this place for ten years, and had planned to retire and raise lots of grandchildren here.

Plans that were so much dust on the wind.

As her body soon would be.

Tears stung my eyes. I closed them, then raised my face to the sky, letting the fading sunlight warm my skin and dry the tears on my cheeks.

I’d shed more than my fair share over these last few weeks. But the time had come to move on—however reluctant I might be, and however hard that would be.

Life went on. Or at least, my life went on.

And Mom would have been the first one to tell me to get on with it.

I smiled and looked down at the small box in my hands. It was a simple wooden box, nothing ornate. She’d asked for that, just as she’d asked for this. A simple good-bye, just me and her, high up in the hills that she’d loved.

The wind swirled around us, crisp and fresh, filled with the scent of eucalyptus and the musk of the kangaroos that grazed nearby. I waited, watching the colorful fingers of sunset creep across the sky, until the blue had become a kaleidoscope of red, orange, and yellow.

Time, something within me whispered.

With fingers that trembled ever so slightly, I opened the little latch and raised the box above my head.

“May your ashes fill this place with the peace and beauty that was yours, and may you find that same peace and beauty in whatever path is now yours.”

I tipped the box, letting her ashes loose on the wind, watching her scatter through the trees.

“Good-bye, Mom,” I whispered, my voice broken with the tears that were flowing down my cheeks. “I love you.”

And I will find your killer. No matter how long it took or what I had to do. I had a lot of leads to follow—the human shifters, the men from the consortium, Handberry and whatever the bug had picked up in his office, to name just a few—and behind one of them, I would find her killer.

There was no answer to either my words or my unspoken vow. There could never again be an answer. Yet just for a moment, I thought I heard the joyful sound of her laughter.