Today is a beautiful day for a funeral.

Autumn colors tinge the foliage. A few leaves create a colorful confetti on the sidewalks.

This is that beautiful in-between time that doesn’t feel like fall, but is too cool to still be summer.

Samhain is coming. Soon the veil between the worlds will thin.

It’s my favorite season.

Made even better by the event this morning.

Not only do most people not get to attend their own funerals, but most certainly don’t get two services.

As my great grandmother would say, flibberty jibbets I’m tickled pink. Or some nonsense like that.

I don’t remember my first funeral. Probably too overcome with my own grief and shock to really enjoy all the nice things people had to say about me. The crying and sobbing were probably lovely and most definitely disingenuinous.

This memorial will be different because none of those annoying relatives have been invited. The ones who had nothing nice to say while I was alive. Her hair is too black. Why doesn’t she smile more? Who gets their ears pierced so many times? At least they didn’t have to buy a new black dress for her casket.

Uff.

I’m forever grateful that if any of them are ghosts, we’re not haunting the same places. I’d hate to spend eternity endlessly screaming like an annoyed banshee. Boring.

Rather than exhume my casket from Mount Auburn and have to deal with the hows and whys my skeleton isn’t inside, we’ve come up with a brilliant idea.

My ashes are being buried on the Corey farm near Martha and Giles newly restored graves.

Forget Romeo and Juliet, which totally doesn’t have a happily ever after, Martha and Giles are my ultimate relationship goals. Old people love is the best. You’ve been through it all and then some.

Kind of like Geoffrey and me.

Per my request, “Don’t Fear the Reaper” blasts from the portable speaker sitting on the ground near my grave. Delighted, I clap and dance around the fresh earth like a dark-haired Stevie Nicks. Laughing, Madison and her Gran join me and the others follow.

I also told her to play “Boys Don’t Cry” in honor of Geoffrey. I’m not sure he’s as amused by my playlist as I am. It’s his funeral, too, and maybe I should’ve let him pick his own song.

Once I knew I couldn’t talk him out of dying, I refused to be a witness to his death. When the time came, I told him to find me in the library after it was over. Not going to lie, the wait felt like eternity, and at first I feared he’d failed in either dying or ending up in the right place. He finally showed up, wearing black jeans and a leather jacket, and I about melted into a puddle of ectoplasm at the sight of him.

Dancing my way over to him, I grin from ear to ear. My cheeks hurt from smiling. I’ve never been happier than when he wraps me in his arm before dipping me back to kiss me. Oh how I’ve missed his kisses. This is what I’ve wanted for fifteen years.

Kissing him is my idea of heaven.

Thank you for reading  Four Witches and a Funeral

This is the last Wicked Society book. I hope you enjoyed the series as much as I loved writing about witches and magic in Boston.

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If you missed , the first book in the Wicked Society series, you can read it for free in Kindle Unlimited. I’ve included the first chapter at the end of this book as a bonus. Enjoy!

Keep reading to meet Madison and Andrew in , the witch story that launched both the Bewitched and Wicked Society series.