Chapter 151: Taran

"Are you sure you want to do this?"
Diogo's voice comes from behind me and I twist in my chair to look at him. He's dressed in dark clothes from head to foot, leaving off his military outfit for the sake of his people. Tonight, he's one of them. His terrifying war mask, the skull of a Primitive, covers half his face so I can't see his expression, but I know from the sound of his voice that he's in a pensive mood. So am I.
"It's tradition," I answer simply and turn back to my little mirror, leaning forward to put the finishing touches on my own mask, which I've painted on. I'm wearing a ghoulish skeleton, with a red heart across the top of my cheek, just below the sweep of my lashes.
Diogo comes up behind me and drops a kiss on the top of my head. "Stunning, as always."
I smile up at him and then laugh as the lips in the mirror twist into a grotesque smile. I did a really good job of my makeup this year. "How's Blaze?" I ask Diogo.
"Turning into a little beast," he says with a slight smile. Our one-and-a-half-year-old son seems to have really hit his stride since learning how to walk, giving everyone something to run after. Karl is at his wit's end chasing after a tiny human with absolutely no care for his own well-being. "He's with his babysitter and bodyguard," Diogo adds.
I smile at that, but don't bother asking which babysitter. It's become clear that everyone wants a piece of the Warlord's son. His own parents have to fight to get quality time with their own child, but I wouldn't trade this family for anything. We all fit together now.
I turn on my seat and give my hand to Diogo. "Let's go."
He pulls me from the bench and into his arms, dropping a light kiss on my lips so as not to mess up my carefully applied makeup. His lips hover over mine, lingering, breathing me in as I breathe him in. Together we stand that way, counting the seconds, minutes and years we've been together and all the ones yet to come. Gratitude can't even begin to cover what I feel when I'm with this man. Along with my son, Diogo is my everything. I can't imagine loving anyone the way I love this man. And he knows it, because every day I wear my heart on my sleeve for the world to see.
"Let's go," he repeats my words. "Get this over with so I can get you back here and see what's underneath those robes."
I laugh and pick up the skirt of my long flowing gown and the cape-like coat I'm wearing over top of it. Dee and Milla helped me prepare, kindly donating their own clothes in an effort to make me over into some kind of ethereal grim reaper. They said they were going for majestic, befitting the wife of a Warlord, but I think it's a little on the creepy side.
Grayson meets us in the hallway of our apartment building and nods solemnly. I'd asked him earlier if he planned on joining us and he'd told me that he was going wherever I was going unless otherwise ordered by Diogo. I'd probed further, wondering about his story. Lately it feels imperative to me to gather stories, find out who the people are behind the tragedies. Maybe one day I'll chronicle all of our journeys, piece together the timelines and try to make sense of everything.
Grayson didn't say much, just that he lost his family to a Primitive attack as a young child and was brought to Sanctuary as an orphan. He was lucky enough to gain the physical strength and skills necessary to become part of the elite guard, and then later my personal bodyguard. I smiled and joked that his job must be pretty boring these days. His reply had been a joke about my penchant towards getting kidnapped. While I have no intention of anyone taking me unawares like that again, I don't think either Diogo or Grayson are willing to let go of my tendency toward getting in trouble. They both watch over me like mama hens over their chick. He hadn't appreciated the analogy when I told him and I snickered over his disgusted reaction.
Together, our small group descends the stairs of our building and out into the cool evening. We join a crowd of people waiting for us outside. When they heard the Warlord was going to join them in their Day of the Dead walk they started crowding around the front doors of our building, waiting for us to emerge. I watch proudly as Diogo patiently takes the time to greet his citizens and ask them to join us in our walk. With each passing day he becomes more skilled at balancing his Warlord role with his role as a leader who understands his people.
We walk arm in arm through the streets, surrounded by a strange mix of both jubilant and solemn people. The Day of the Dead is a day of celebration, but it's also the day we acknowledge those that we've lost.
We pass easily through each checkpoint, which have been opened for the public to pass freely through. I've been in discussions with Diogo over possibly getting rid of the checkpoints and merging the sectors now that he's restored order to the city and unrest is at a minimum. Bishop has been supplying me with arguments throughout history of how the separation of citizens is a bad thing, including a lesson on something called the Berlin wall.
As we walk, Skye calls my name and I wave to her through the throng. Breathing heavily as though she'd been running, she catches up to us and takes hold of my other arm. She's wearing a pair of tight black pants and a heavy masculine leather coat, one that I think belongs to Wolfe. Her face is painted with a sinister skull, similar to mine but starker and more frightening.
"Thank you for allowing us to join you," she says somewhat stiffly to Diogo.
He nods at her. "Now that that section of wall is down, joining Old Tucson with Sanctuary, your people will be given more ease of movement."
"They aren't my people," she denies, though she has definitely become their interim leader. They look to her for all things. She's become their advocate and, in some cases, their saviour. She watches out for their welfare and quite literally fights for their survival. Though lately she's been distancing herself from them, handing off more jobs to other people in her place. In my heart I know she's preparing to leave, but I don't want to ask her point blank. I don't think I'll be able to stand hearing the answer.
A few months ago, Wolfe left. None of us knows what happened and Skye refuses to say, but since his departure she's become more distant. When spoken to, she has a tendency to be abrupt and snappish.
We fall silent as we approach the flaming pyre next to the open gates, which are heavily guarded in case the Primitives decide to come this way. I watch in awe as the flames reach up into the inky black sky throwing smoke and sparks. One at a time the citizens of Sanctuary step up to the flames and throw in the names of their loved ones. With each step we take forward my throat tightens.
As we reach the pyre, I remove the papers from the hidden pocket in my robe. Diogo goes ahead of me, tossing in the few names he's written down: Victoria Graystone, Garrett, Jorje Cruz, and Stryker. I was surprised that he'd added the last two to his list and told him when he was writing the names down. He'd told me that I've taught him what compassion looks like and that he now sees how this world can tear us apart and twist us into something we might not have been otherwise. He said that those men had been his friends and though they'd committed unforgivable crimes they still deserved to be remembered. I'd thrown my arms around him and hugged him tight.