The priest gestures for us to rise for the final prayer, and I reluctantly let go of my wife’s hands long enough to extract the handkerchief from my pocket.
I hold it out for her, and she takes it while the room choruses an amen.
It’s been a long time since I’ve believed in anyone’s god. I’ve seen too much of the underside of humanity to believe in a greater plan, but I do believe in tradition. And in honoring the dead.
I slide a hand up Valentine’s back. “Stay right here,” I tell her quietly.
Stepping away, I take the priest’s place as he disappears into the shadows.
Because I also believe in avenging the dead.
“Family.” The word booms out of me.
“Family.” The room echoes back to me.
“We are under attack.” I pause, making sure everyone can hear every word. “Someone is coming after us. After our family.” I point at my cousin’s photo behind me. “And they will pay.” A rumble of agreement rolls up the aisle. “They will pay with blood. Because they came after us, and we won’t settle at an eye for an eye.” I look around at the faces before me. “We take a soul for an eye.” I let the rage simmering under my skin heat. “And we’re owed a lot of souls, because this is our fourth funeral in four months. We will have no more. Not one more of us dies at the hands of these cowards. We will find them. And when we do, we will bring war to their doorstep. And we will win.” I let my eyes move to the golden ones staring back at me from the front row. “We will win because we have The Alliance. Because a good woman can change your life.”
And I see it. I see her understand.
