Xander Sirocco laced his fingers behind his head and lay back on the bed. His gaze drifted to the marbled ceiling above him and the faded mosaic that had once been elaborately painted on its surface. The images had faded until they were barely recognizable as people. Only the image of a man and woman holding hands hadn’t been worn away from constant exposure to the sun and salt water. The older couple stared at one another romantically amidst a boiling storm.
Reaching up, he wiped away tears that welled in his eyes. The woman in the painting had long, dark hair that cascaded over her shoulders as she looked up at the man. The older man also had dark hair similar to Xander’s. Both of their features had been worn away from exposure and age, but they reminded him remarkably of his parents.
A knot grew in his throat. He was forced to roll onto his side and look out the window before the emotion overwhelmed him. Outside the window, bright sun glistened off a wall of water that surrounded the narrow island. The red-tiled roofs baked in the warm sunlight and the white marble walls of the buildings reflected the light, bathing the entire island in its glow. At another time, it would have been a tropical paradise; a piece of ancient Roman architecture transplanted to the Gulf of Mexico. Xander didn’t have the heart to admire its beauty, however. He brought his knees up to his chest and stared out the window without seeing anything beyond its open shutters.
While he was staring out the window lost in his thoughts, he heard the faint click of footsteps ascending the marble staircase outside his bedroom door. He rolled toward the door as the footsteps came to a stop on the landing and a hand gently knocked. Without awaiting a response from Xander, the door opened and Sammy entered.
Her blonde hair was pinned up with small ringlets resting on the back of her neck. An airy, white blouse that was tied closed around her narrow waist had replaced her dark leathers. Her alabaster skin was marred only by the faint pink of sunburn.
“You’re not even dressed yet?” she asked. “We’re going to be late.”
She looked at him, noting the puffiness around his eyes. With a sad smile, she walked over to the edge of the bed and sat down beside him. She placed an abnormally warm hand on his bare shoulder and squeezed gently.
Xander reached up and wiped away the fresh tears. Sammy leaned forward and kissed him gently on his forehead. As she leaned back, he stared into her crystal blue eyes. Flecks of gray pierced the rims of her irises, giving her eyes a steely appearance.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” she said.
Her words were like a knife twisting in his gut. He cringed and shook his head.
“Please don’t say that,” Xander said. “If one more person tells me that they’re sorry my parents died, I think I’m going to explode.”
Sammy frowned and quickly looked away. Xander reached out and took her hand.
“I’m sorry, Sammy. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” He blinked away the newest wave of emotion. “It’s just that I miss them so much. And every time I think about getting dressed and going to their funeral, I get this wrenching in my gut. It’s like a constant reminder that they’re dead because of me.”
“Xander,” Sammy said. “It’s not your fault they died.”
Xander sat up in the bed so that he was eye level with Sammy. His eyes smoldered through the tears. “They died because I’m a Wind Warrior. If I hadn’t become one or if I hadn’t left them—”
“Then General Abraxas would have killed you too,” she finished. “You’re a good man, Xander, but you don’t understand the type of people you’re dealing with. Most of the Fire Caste aren’t evil like Abraxas was but men like him exist and they’ll stop at nothing to see you dead. If you had been at your parents’ house instead of here with the other Wind Warriors, then we’d be burying you today too.”
Sammy cradled the side of his head in her hand. “You lived, Xander. You lived so you can stop the Fire Caste from killing anyone else.”
Xander reached up and pulled her hand away. Shifting his weight, he turned his back to her and stared out the open window. Sea spray settled over the red tiles just outside the window and rolled off the roof in small rivulets.
“I’m not trying to pick a fight but what’s the point? A single Fire Warrior killed my parents, Bart, and nearly killed my grandfather. One man! If it hadn’t been for you, he would have killed me too. How could we possibly stop an entire army of them?”
Sammy laid her head on his exposed back and listened to his quickened heartbeat. “I don’t know.”
Startled by her honesty, Xander glanced over his shoulder.
“I don’t know how,” Sammy repeated. “But you’ll find a way. You and the other Wind Warriors will find a way to save the world, I know it.”
“I wish I could believe that.”
Sammy slid off the side of the bed, taking his hand in the process, and pulling him with her. “We have time to convince you later. Right now, we have a funeral to attend. Don’t let survivor’s guilt keep you from honoring their memory.”
Xander sighed and threw his legs over the side of the bed. As he placed his feet on the cold floor, he pulled her into a tight hug. She turned her head to the side and buried her face in the crook of his neck.
“All right,” he said, his voice rumbling against her ear as she lay against his chest. “Let me get dressed.”
They paused as they left his house. Sammy reached down to a basket set beside his door and pulled out a bundle of fresh lavender stalks. The smell was intoxicating, compared to the normal, overwhelming scent of the ocean. She handed the stalks to Xander, who took them with a look of surprise.
“What are these for?” he asked.
Sammy smiled sweetly. “I found a patch growing on the far side of the island. I figured they’d be a nice gesture to lay on the graves.”
Xander’s smile was mixed with a tinge of sadness at the mention of the graves. “Thank you. This is really nice.”
He slipped his hand into hers as they walked. He squinted against the bright sunlight and felt the first bead of sweat roll down his back. Despite the thin, loose-fitting shirt he wore, the sun and humidity was oppressive on the island.
Xander closed his eyes as he walked and concentrated on the still air around them. A soft breeze coiled around his sandaled ankles as he walked and the wind surged into his body as though being soaked up through his pores. The breeze whispered to him as it flowed through him, cooling him off. It spoke in a language that was completely alien, yet strangely familiar. He didn’t understand the words but the message was unmistakable.
“Thank you,” Sammy said from beside him.
Xander opened his eyes and saw the same breeze curling lazily around Sammy. Her hair whipped playfully in the air before settling back onto her shoulders. The slight flush in her porcelain skin seemed to fade away as the cold air washed over her.
Despite the sad event, he felt more alive when he was controlling the wind. It was part of his birthright, one that he wasn’t willing to give up just because the Fire Caste was eager to replace the Wind Warriors.
“How are my aunts and uncles taking everything?” he asked as the wind faded slightly, receding until it became just a faint whisper of air that seeped through their thin clothing.
He felt slightly guilty asking the question. The other remaining Wind Warriors—his “aunts and uncles”—were certainly suffering the loss of Bart as surely as he was suffering the loss of his parents, but he hadn’t bothered to visit with any of them since returning from White Halls. He had locked himself in his room instead, seeing only Sammy when she came to visit.
Sammy shrugged. “I don’t know, honestly. I mean, they’re obviously sad about what happened, but only Giovanni and Alicia will actually talk to me. Patrick and Thea just give me looks like I’m the devil every time I’m around. And Robert is always in the dome. I guess they’re taking it all in stride.”
He couldn’t imagine how they must be feeling. They just lost a friend they had known closely for thi
rty or forty years. He wondered if it had become easier for them over the years, though. His parents were the first people he truly lost that were close to him. The other Wind Warriors had once been part of a group that numbered in the hundreds. Surely, other Wind Warriors had died throughout the years.
“How are you doing, now that we’re actually going to the funeral?” she asked.
Xander shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m kind of numb right now. I’m just trying to hold it all together but I feel like a puzzle with a few pieces missing.”
She gave his hand a firm squeeze. “We’re here. Are you sure you’re okay?”
Xander sighed. “As good as I can be. Let’s go.”
As they rounded the last building, the stone walkway gave way to lush, green grass. The park before them stretched to the edge of the island, ending at the wall of sea spray rising to the sky above. A gentle mist of salt water cascaded over the pair as they left the protection of the marble buildings.
Three figures stood at the far end of the park, flanking three graves. The tops of the graves were covered with piles of stones, creating makeshift cairns.
Xander froze at the sight. He thought he’d prepared himself enough for this moment but he was quickly overwhelmed at the sight of the graves. The one to the far left concealed the body of Bart. The other two were actually empty graves; they were symbolic markers for Xander’s parents. Their bodies were still with the White Halls coroner. Though he had wanted to retrieve them to give them a proper burial, he knew the Fire Warriors who had accompanied General Abraxas would be waiting for him.
Despite knowing the graves were empty, it didn’t lessen the severe heartache he felt.
Sammy slipped an arm into his, giving him support as he walked forward. Xander looked quickly away from the graves and instead stared at the three older Wind Warriors who stood stoically behind the cairns. Only Patrick, Thea, and Giovanni were present, another reminder of all they had already lost since the Fire Caste declared war on them. Bart was gone. His grandfather had been badly burned and still hadn’t awoken since their return. Alicia tended to him practically day and night, meaning that another Wind Warrior was incapable of defending against the Fire Warrior invasion.
Not that they cared to fight back, Xander realized sourly as he and Sammy approached the graves. All the elder Wind Warriors—even the ones that seemed to support him the most like Giovanni and Alicia—seemed apathetic when it came to fighting back. It was as though the transition from the wind to the fire was a foregone conclusion. Xander and Sammy seemed to be the only ones that were willing to stand up to the advance.
As he caught Patrick’s eye, the Irish Wind Warrior scowled and opened his mouth to speak. Thea’s quick elbow to his ribs quickly silenced him and left him cringing. He didn’t need to speak for Xander to know what he was going to say. It wasn’t Xander at whom Patrick was scowling. It was Sammy, walking at his side.
He and Sammy stopped on the far side of the graves and stared at the others. Despite Patrick’s obvious displeasure at Sammy’s presence, all the Wind Warriors looked saddened by the occasion.
“Would anyone like to say anything?” Giovanni asked, breaking the awkward silence. “I don’t really know if any of us are truly qualified to oversee a funeral, so I thought we could just speak what was on our minds. Assuming that’s okay with you all, yes?”
So many different thoughts crashed through Xander’s mind. He tried to think of something meaningful to say but everything he thought of seemed paltry under the circumstances. No one cared like he did that his mother was always compassionate and loving. It seemed insignificant that Xander always knew the affection his father felt, even when the man was being a strict disciplinarian. He tried brushing aside the thoughts of his mother and father lying to him his entire life about the existence of the Wind Warriors, but even that invasive thought kept creeping back into the forefront of his memories.
The more he thought of everything they had been, the more he realized they were gone. Their love and affection would only be a memory; a shadow of what it had once been and what it had meant to him. A knot quickly formed in his throat and he had to swallow hard before the emotion rolled out of him.
Across the gravesite, Patrick cleared his throat. Xander could see the same deep emotion in the Irishman’s eyes as he prepared to speak.
“Bart was a good man and a good friend,” he began, his words thick with sadness. He laughed softly in the way people do when they don’t know what to say in an uncomfortable situation. “I still remember when we met nearly, God, thirty years ago now. I was fresh from the Isle and had an accent thicker than you wouldn’t believe. The poor lad couldn’t even understand me when I spoke.”
Patrick paused and wiped away a tear. “We always said we were terrible friends; that it would be ridiculous for us to grow old together because we never really got along. We argued like a married couple. But I never in a million years thought that we wouldn’t grow old together, you know?
“He deserved better,” he muttered, as much to himself as the others gathered around the graves.
The five men and women stood in silence, lost in their own thoughts and generally avoiding eye contact with one another. Xander knew the loss he felt but couldn’t imagine what it must be like to lose a friend like Patrick had—someone he had known for longer than Xander had even been alive.
Again, he sought the right words for his parents’ eulogy but nothing came. His mind became a white sheet, completely blank.
Giovanni raised his head and made the sign of the cross over his forehead. Looking toward Xander, he caught the younger man’s gaze.
“Would you like to say anything?”
Xander opened and quickly closed his mouth. He knew he should say something in this moment but nothing was able to break through the blanket draped over his thoughts.
“I…” he said, before stopping. The utterance of that single word opened the floodgates of his emotions. Tears rolled out of his eyes as he looked down at what he knew were the two hollow graves for his parents. They were simple piles of stone, strategically placed until they made a perfect ridge along the middle like an elongated pyramid. No headstones marked the ends of the graves; the larger stones had been too hard to carry from the mainland where the other rocks had been retrieved.
The breeze around them kicked up sharply and angrily, echoing the torrent of emotions rumbling through Xander.
Instead of speaking, Xander raised the lavender in his hand. Stepping forward, he laid a stalk on the peak of each of the stone gravesites before stepping back to Sammy’s side. The young Fire Warrior slipped her hand back into his and he savored her comforting warmth.
“If there’s nothing else,” Giovanni said, “then thank you all for attending today.”
The Italian Wind Warrior turned away, his black ponytail trailing behind him. Thea placed a hand on Patrick’s shoulder and began to step away but stopped when she realized the Irishman wasn’t coming. Patrick’s scowling gaze remained affixed on Sammy.
“Not now,” Thea said harshly, her permanent frown deepening as she stopped beside the redheaded man. “There’ll be time for this later.”
Patrick turned but quickly shrugged off Thea’s guiding hand. He stormed back to the graves and pointed at Sammy.
“She doesn’t belong here,” he said angrily. “This was a sacred event and it didn’t deserve to be sullied by her kind.”
Xander wiped away the tears with a brief swipe of his loose sleeve.
“Her kind?” he said. “She betrayed ‘her kind’ to save our lives. Giovanni, my grandfather, and I would have all died if it hadn’t been for her.”
“Aye, she did. And for what? Because she loves you? After you’ve known her for only a few weeks? After she already tried to kill you once?”
“So what if she does?”
“She’s a Fire Warrior, you daft bugger. You don’t just stop being a member of your caste. I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole t
hing was staged just so she could get close enough to kill us all.”
Thea grabbed Patrick’s arm roughly and started pulling him away. “This isn’t the time for this,” Thea said.
“Keep away from us,” Xander yelled.
“Why don’t you tell them the truth, lass? Tell me I’m wrong.”
Thea pulled him away until they both disappeared around the corner of one of the island’s empty houses.
Xander fumed, staring angrily at the retreating Irishman long after he had disappeared from view. When he glanced over at Sammy, she stood with her mouth agape as though still contemplating the right response to all Patrick’s accusations.
Angrily, Xander took her hand and led her away from the funeral.