Wedding Spells Are Ringing
Candace
“The seventeenth century will do nicely,” I say as Sector Marshall and I walk among the revelry at a boisterous cantina located in the heart of Dover. We’ve skirted through time, forward and backward, seeking the perfect morsel of existence to carry out our plans.
Smoke swirls, thick as fog, as the laughter rises above the riotously loud music and it’s nearly impossible to make our way through the crowd without being jostled.
“Yes.” Sector Marshall links his arm through mine, his lips curling as he observes the wild women in their corseted gowns, their lips painted red as a rose, their eyes dark as night with thick lines of kohl. “I will find one suited to me best.”
“And I will find one suited tomebest—although in another time, another place.”
“The decoy’s lineage is among us, I take it?”
“Perhaps. Or perhaps she is the one I’ve intended to take the reins all along. Not even you shall be privy to the answer to that riddle.”
He lifts his chin. “I see trust is an issue.”
“There’s no need to worry that someone will give your secrets away if you never tell them. This is how my heart holds peace. I mean no offense by it.”
“None taken. Now remind me once again why I am to bring forth a child into this world? You do realize this is not of my own volition. It is as a courtesy to you alone that I do this.”
A sharp laugh expels from me. “Please, Sector. I’ve seen the longing you have in you to make a human woman your own, if only for a night. Have you already mowed your way through the heavenlies that you must lust after Earth’s daughters, too?”
Now the laughter belongs to him.
“Nonsense. Heavenly beings will always be my weakness. But drawing a child from my loins is worthy of a mention from me—and perhaps an answer from you.”
“If I must reiterate, very well,” I say as we come upon the bar and Sector orders a couple of lagers for us. “I need you, Sector.” The barhop slides the thick brown sludge our way, and I lift the weighted glass to the Sector by my side. “And I want you to enjoy this privilege I’m affording you, as well,” I say before taking a sip and setting the weighted vessel down once again.
“Indeed I will.” His brows lift. “Do extrapolate on why this is necessary.’”
“I need your lineage to seed a suitor for my child. I’ll have a daughter, as I’ve said before. And she will be powerful—heavily despised by all the Fems. She’ll need a proper suitor when the time is right, and that suitor shall not only come from you, it will be you as well one day.”
His lips curl at the tips. “And this daughter—who may or may not hold her place as the leader of the Factions for all time. She will—”
A splash of ice cold liquid lands over my face, and I blink back, completely caught off guard.
“What in heaven’s name?” I growl it out like thunder, only to find a harlot wrapped around Sector Marshall, laughing as she coils her fingers through his hair.
“You did this.” I hold out my hands, dripping wet, as I glower at the brunette with deep amber eyes, her cutting beauty nullified by the wickedness embedded in her soul.
A crowd quickly amasses around us, and the music dims a notch. People point and laugh in my direction, catty women, obnoxious men. Why I ever bother with these lumbering beasts is beyond me.
“Yes, I did this.” She nods to the empty glass on the bar. “And I’m going to dothis, too.” She runs her hands over Sector Marshall’s chest, her tongue licking her lips in a quickened rhythm, making promises her body intends to keep.
“Marlena Bishop.” Her name strums from me unceremoniously, and she freezes solid as she blinks my way.
“You know my name. So what?” She shrugs back up at him. “What’s most important is thatyouknow my name.” She blows him a kiss. “You might want to remember it. You’ll be shouting it later at a much more private venue.”
I take a deep breath and a violent shudder runs through me as I dry off in an instant.
“Marlena,” I say and she turns my way, doing a double take at my hair, my body. “You will have your time with him. But now is not the hour. Be gone before I curse you and your father’s entire lineage.”
Her lids hood low as she glances back to the Sector in her arms.
“Who is the demanding prostitute”—she growls— “and why on earth are you wasting your time entertaining her?”
Sector straightens. “My love,” he whispers to her. “I would refrain from lowering yourself to name-calling. Have you not read that celestial beings are not to be slandered?”
