Crow's Row

“Everything looks great, Carly. Thank you for making all the arrangements,” Cameron said

softly, affectionately putting his hand on her shoulder, as my brother had often done with me.

Carly smiled weakly back at us, but seemed at a loss for words. She scooped her arm into mine,

while Cameron and Spider led us to our seats in the back of the church. We slid onto the bench—

Carly and I sat next to each other, and Cameron and Spider protectively sat on our sides. The

rest of the back benches were filled with the remaining guards. Silence fell among us, each lost

in thought, trying to make sense of something that was senseless.

The church was practically empty, except for the front pew. I recognized the bleached-blond back

of one of the women’s heads as Cameron’s mother. She was sobbing loudly while simultaneously

yelling at three children who were running back and forth between the benches. It all seemed

surreal.

And then Spider suddenly shot up and glared to the lane.

“What’s she doing here?” he muttered bitterly. Carly, Cameron, and I turned our heads and

followed his gaze. Frances had made her way down the aisle and awkwardly stood by the bench in

front of us. Carly tugged at Spider’s sleeve and forced him to sit back down.

“I invited her,” she half-whispered. And then, in answer to our surprised faces, added,

“Rocco really liked Frances. He would have wanted her to be here, with us.”

Frances continued to uneasily glance at us, until Cameron finally motioned her to sit down. She

quietly slid into the bench in front of us and stared ahead while Spider huffed and Carly threw

him a disapproving eye. I felt horrible for Frances. I remembered what it was like to be the

outsider who wanted nothing else but to be accepted by them.

A big man in front walked out on stage at the front of the church. His hair was crew-cut in a

bowl, and he looked lost in his robes. He was young, really young—like puberty had forgotten

about him. He seemed too young to be a deacon, or a pastor, or a priest, or whatever he was.

The man in the big robes commenced his sermon. Though he spoke English, I had no idea what he

was talking about. Chapters, verses, commandments—these were as cryptic to me as Cameron’s

business documents. I was sure that the holy water was boiling in a basin somewhere in the

church as these thoughts ran through my head.

I was trying to be strong for Cameron and managed to gulp most of my tears back down. But this

was becoming more and more difficult as I was forced to sit there with no distraction from my

thoughts. There was something haunting about the large man-child’s spoken voice … and I was

being forced back to the wicker chest. I could hear the angel voice whispering in my ear. I

watched Rocco fall to the ground. These relentlessly replayed in my mind.

It came to me in a rush—not only was Rocco gone, but he wasn’t coming back. His picture at the

front of the church had become just another image of a boy who would never grow up. Brewing

inside of me was an intense hatred for the ones who had taken his life. I wanted them dead, but

first I wanted them to pay, suffer for what they had done. I was not a vengeful person, yet I

felt strongly about how they should be tortured. The tears were now gushing down—I couldn’t

stop them anymore. They were tears of pain and anger, the kind that burned my skin as they slid

down my cheeks and plunged to my lap. Without looking at me, Cameron clasped his fingers into

mine and brought my hand onto his lap, squeezing. My attempt at being his strong counterpart had

failed, miserably. Once again, Cameron had to take care of me.

While the big man who was lost in his robe broke out into a ritualistic hymn, one of the guards

had tiptoed down the aisle and stopped at Spider’s side. He whispered something in Spider’s

ear and waited while Spider leaned over Carly and me and addressed Cameron in a murmur.

“Shield’s boys are here. They want to talk about a truce and a merger. They say there’s a lot

of money attached to this deal.”

Cameron swore under his breath as he turned to Spider to spit his words. “I’m at my brother’s

funeral. Whatever they want can wait till tomorrow.”

Spider looked offended at being spoken to in this way, but with a nod of the head, motioned to

the guard to follow the boss’s orders. The guard ran out of the church, but returned a few

minutes later. Whatever he had whispered in Spider’s ear had made Spider’s face go hard and

his brow furrow.

“They came here without Shield knowing. They want to change their alliance and work for us.

They’re willing to take Shield down themselves to make this happen.”

Spider looked at Cameron, waiting for a response, but Cameron remained silent and continued to

glance ahead. His cheeks were flushed with anger.

Spider spoke a little louder. “Cameron?”

“I heard you,” Cameron skewered back. He tapped his foot and considered.

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