Melpomene... Qebhet had heard that name of late, too. Something Hecate had said, something about... a connection to the shooting. What was it...? One of the boys who killed me was one of her chosen.
Ronan. Tragos, to his gang brothers. Melpomene was the Muse of Tragedy.
Oh, blessed starlight.
Marcie might be able to tell her. She might even know about Kaden, if he was safe, if anybody had told him—
But Qebhet's first duty was to the mourner and the mourned. Now was no time for questions.
"First, we will bathe him with wash cloths," she said. "Warm water with a little soap, then cool water to rinse. There are special oils I use for anointing, if you think it suitable." Her hand hovered over the shroud covering Ronan and she looked to Marcie for assent. "Would you like a moment with him, while I ready everything?"