So I put on the same blond wig, blue contacts, silver glasses, and black suit that I’d worn to the coroner’s office and sat in Jo-Jo’s house, waiting for everyone else to leave. Once my friends were gone, I peered out through the white lace curtains, but I didn’t see anyone watching the house from the woods or the street outside. There was no reason to spy, now that it was seemingly empty. So I went outside, walked two streets over, slid into the silver BMW that Silvio had rented for me under a fake name, and drove over to Blue Ridge Cemetery.

I’d thought there would be a crowd, given who I was and the messy circumstances of my supposed death, but so many folks had turned out for my funeral that I had to park my car outside the cemetery entrance and walk the rest of the way in.

More than three hundred people clustered around my gravesite, which was right next to Fletcher’s. Given how badly my supposed body had been burned, the silver casket was closed, with a beautiful spray of pink and white roses draped over the top. I wasn’t really a pink-and-white sort of girl, but Jo-Jo had enthusiastically planned my funeral, so I’d gone along with what she wanted.

I maneuvered past the gravestones and slipped into the center of the crowd, where I would have a clear view of my family, who were sitting in folding metal chairs in front of the casket. They all wore somber black suits and jackets and were doing their best to seem composed, although Bria and Jo-Jo kept dabbing at their eyes with black silk handkerchiefs. Before they’d left the salon, Finn had insisted that everyone sniff some menthol to give them watery eyes and runny noses and make it seem like they’d all been crying all day long. I had to admit that it was effective. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought that they were all grieving deeply for me.

The rest of the crowd? Not so much.

Most everyone in attendance wore curious but satisfied expressions, since they hadn’t come to pay their respects so much as make certain that I was dead. I saw several lower-level underworld minions high-five each other as the minister stepped over to the podium to begin the service. For such a somber occasion, the mood was decidedly cheerful.

At least it was until Madeline arrived.

She swept through the crowd like the queen she thought she was, and people hurried to get out of her way. Emery and Jonah flanked her, as was their custom. Murmurs of the acid elemental’s arrival rippled through the crowd, causing my friends to turn around in their chairs. They all shot her drop-dead-bitch looks, but Madeline ignored their heated glares and took up a spot off to the right of my casket so she could have a clear view.

As the minister quieted the crowd and started the service, I studied my enemy. Unlike everyone else, Madeline was not dressed in navy or black but wore her usual white pantsuit. Her only concession to the funeral was her black hat with a matching lace veil and a thin white ribbon around the brim. Through the veil, I could see the bright glitter of her green eyes and the cruel curve of her crimson lips.

She was enjoying this very, very much.

Madeline turned to get a better view of my casket, and the sun caught on her crown-and-flame necklace, as well as the matching ring on her finger. I didn’t know if there were any old sayings about wearing something new to a funeral, but Madeline was, since her jewelry was made out of gold now, instead of the silverstone set she’d worn before. I’d noticed the new bling a couple of days ago in some surveillance photos of her that Silvio had taken for me, and I’d found it extremely interesting for a number of reasons.

I focused on her necklace. In many ways, it was the exact same as Mab’s sunburst rune had been—a thick gold chain with a large gemstone set in the middle—although Madeline had forgone the gaudy, wavy, ostentatious rays that had radiated out of her mama’s necklace.

The longer I looked at Madeline’s baubles, the wider I grinned. I’d been hoping that she would wear them to my funeral. The gold jewelry told me more than anything else that she finally, truly believed that I was dead.

Most of those gathered here might have done everything possible to put me in the ground, but everyone remained quiet, respectful, and solemn during the service. They might all be a bunch of criminals, but even they could behave at a funeral. Us Southerners were quirky like that.

All too soon, though, the minister finished his sermon and called my friends and family forward, each of them taking a rose from the casket spray to supposedly remember me by. Jo-Jo let out a particularly loud bawl when she did so and stumbled, as if she were overcome with grief. Sophia grabbed her sister’s arm, supporting and leading her away from my casket.

I raised my hand to my face to hide my grin. Jo-Jo had thoroughly enjoyed this charade, and she had wholeheartedly thrown herself into everything from picking out my casket, to planning the funeral, to selecting the tombstone that would be erected at my grave. I thought that it was a bit morbid, but Jo-Jo had gotten catalogs of various markers and had made me go through them with her while she did my nails in the salon one evening.

Still, I supposed it could be worse. I could actually be in that casket, and I might still end up there. My grin faded away.

Finally, the service concluded, and everyone started drifting away and walking back to their cars.

Everyone except Madeline.

She stayed rooted in her spot and lifted her veil, her green eyes sweeping back and forth over the crowd, as if she was searching for someone—me.

I ducked my head, not wanting to lock gazes with her, and slowly shuffled away, sticking close to a pair of older men as though I were with them. But I didn’t have to worry about Madeline’s seeing me because Bria chose that moment to pounce.

“You need to leave,” her voice rang through the entire cemetery.

Everyone who’d been leaving stopped and turned around to witness the commotion.

Bria stood a few feet away from Madeline, her eyes narrowed, her body stiff, her hands curled into fists, as though she were about two seconds away from tackling the other woman.

Madeline gave my sister a cool look. “I just came to pay my respects. Same as everyone else.”

Bria let out a hard, brittle laugh. “Sure you did. Since you’re the reason that my sister’s dead in the first place.”

Madeline arched an eyebrow. “I know that you’re grieving, but I had nothing to do with Gin’s unfortunate . . . accident.”

Bria surged forward, but Finn grabbed her arm, supposedly holding her back.

“Come on, Bria,” he said in a disgusted voice. “She’s not worth it.”