Tainted Blood: A Generation V Novel by M.L. Brennan

Author:M.L. Brennan
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2014-11-03T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

Matias Kivela’s funeral was well-attended, filling the stone confines of Saint Paul’s Evangelical Lutheran Church and packing the pews to the point where a small line of overflow participants began lining the side aisles. Suze and I arrived half an hour before the scheduled start, but we would’ve been relegated to the cheap seats had it not been for Suze’s kitsune chutzpah. She marched us straight up the center aisle to a pew that was just behind the ones set aside for family use. It was full, but she leaned down and said, sounding exactly like the bulky bodyguard in a mob film, “Mr. Scott appreciates you making room for him.” I stood back and attempted to look entitled.

Reluctantly, everyone in the pew shifted over, making just enough room for the two of us to wedge ourselves in. Suze upped her glare, and after a little muttering, a few of the younger sitters collected their belongings and left for other, less desirable seating. Those who were left slid farther down, so that when Suze and I sat, now we had room to spread out.

“Not sure that was necessary,” I muttered to Suzume as she unwrapped her scarf and pulled off her gloves. After our interlude the night before, I’d expected things to be different—instead, she had arrived on my doorstep in completely appropriate funeral wear and a chipper bounciness that pretty much defied me to make things awkward.

“Of course it was,” she scolded me with a grin. “You’re Madeline Scott’s kid—you don’t get squished up against some grandma bear. Also”—she nodded to our left—“tell me that this isn’t a good observation post.”

I followed her gaze. On the other side of the aisle and just two rows up was the full Kivela family. Dahlia was standing, looking tired but completely composed, and speaking with an ever-shifting circle of people.

“Looks like someone is settling into the leadership spot,” I whispered to Suze.

“Check out momma bear,” she muttered back.

I craned my head—Ilona Kivela wasn’t crying, but she definitely was in a different emotional place than her daughter. She looked like a bomb-blast victim, pressed up against the shoulder of her son and rocking slightly.

“Maybe she realized that we snagged the knife, and she’s had a few sleepless nights?”

Suze was frowning, though. “Not sure. That doesn’t look nervous. Looks more like she’s trying to hold off a full throwing-herself-on-the-casket breakdown. And look at the way Gil’s keeping close to her. Did your brother say anything about Ilona having some kind of acting background?”

“I didn’t actually get a chance to talk with him,” I admitted. Then Gil Kivela swung his head around and met my eyes, making me have to work hard to avoid slinking down into the pew. That was a person who was definitely not happy with me, but in addition to his mother, he was also pinned down by the four-year-old girl sitting on his lap. Beside him was the guy from the wedding picture, who had his hands full wrangling Dahlia’s younger daughter.

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