Winter Embers [ Book 2 ]

Chapter Three

          After waking up feeling disoriented, but more rested than she had felt in days, Claire considered her next move over a cup of weak coffee and some stale donuts she had left over from her trip. As one would expect the fridge and cupboards were cleared of foodstuff save for some non perishable condiments such as ketchup and soy sauce and a pitcher of water.

          In the light of day the kitchen no longer held the ghostly remnants of her childhood. In fact, it was quite obvious now that changes had been made. The wallpaper had been replaced, as had the old, stained Formica counter-tops. The appliances were still the same, archaic relics from the seventies and were so worn that Claire had been paranoid she'd start an electrical fire when she plugged in the ancient coffeemaker. She had ended up watching the entire process from start to finish, unplugging the machine as soon as it was done.

          Sitting alone in the kitchen, Claire had to remind herself that she had only a few days to get things taken care of here before she was needed back in New York for the show. Most of what she needed to do she could accomplish remotely, there were two things, however, the she had to do in person. The first was meeting with Mr. Jacobs regarding the contents of her grandfather's will, a task she had attempted to accomplish the day before.

          The second, well, the second was proving to be quite difficult.

She needed to pay her respects.

          It took Claire a great deal more courage and resolve than she expected to drive out to the cemetery that afternoon. Her grandparents were not the only ones who occupied the family plot. Her mother had been buried there as well and it would be the first time since the funeral that Claire had gone to visit the grave site. Claire felt ashamed of her pride and stubbornness, but could no longer allow such feelings to keep her from doing what she should have done years before.

          Once she had arrived, Claire sat in the car for over an hour before mustering up the nerve to open the door and climb out. The afternoon was brisk but the sun shone brightly overhead as Claire made her way towards the main gates.

          The cemetery itself was small but well maintained and it didn't take Claire long to find the plot on which her family had been buried. As she stood at its edge she found herself struck with an intense feeling of loss. This was it, this was all the family she'd had, and they were all gone.

          Taking a deep breath, Claire allowed her gaze to travel over the headstones, starting with the newest addition, her grandfather's, before moving on to the other two. It was her mother's gravestone that gave her pause and caused a frown to drag the corners of her mouth downward.

          In the cold chill of February plants all around struggled to survive until the first days of spring. Even the flowers left on her grandfather's grave had long since succumb to the frosty demands of winter's final stand.

          Growing around her mother's gravestone, however, were flowers whose petals were impossibly white, the very tips edged in a deep blue as though they had been dipped in paint. Stepping forward, Claire crouched down and reached out to touch one of the petals. She expected to feel the telltale indication of something synthetic like silk or plastic, but it didn't feel fake, quite the opposite -- it felt organic, alive.

          Claire jerked her hand back suddenly, as though the innocent flower had attempted to take a bite out of her. It had dawned on her in that moment that she had seen this flower before, and in vast quantity.

          The Winter Wood.

          As she rocked back on her heels, Claire caught sight of something else that only served to confuse her further. Etched into the headstone just above her mother's name was a small symbol. It would have been difficult to see if she'd been even a foot further away but from this angle she could see it clearly.