Lydia made her way around the chairs, finding her place beside Nana in the front row. The two women clasped hands, tears in their eyes.
Alone now, Boone walked between the chairs, his beautiful green eyes fixed on mine. He’d trimmed his hair, but it still flopped in his eyes and needed pushed behind his ears. Dear God, Boone was beautiful. In every way an individual could be, Boone was gorgeous.
Grin wide enough to show teeth, Boone stretched out his arms, his hands finding mine, our fingers intertwining. Neither one of us could bear taking off our wedding rings, and so they were still there, encircling our fingers. That was one part of the ceremony that wouldn’t be happening today.
“You look good,” I whispered when I pulled Boone closer.
“Not as good as you,” he answered.
The Christian priest cleared his throat. “Are we ready to begin?”
I started to say yes, but Boone flicked his head around and said, “Where’s Aurelia? She’s supposed to be here, with Pops.” I’d nearly forgotten that Boone had asked Aurelia to stand up with Holland beside him.
“I am present,” Aurelia said, suddenly standing beside Holland. While she was dressed in her typical ripped jeans, tank top, flannel, and combat boots, Fuzzy Britches was a bit fancier. A braided ring of flowers sat atop her…head? Body? I wasn’t certain. Peeking between that wreath were three sets of tiny, dark eyes, their bodies impossible to see as their fur melded with their mother’s.
Turns out, there was a reason Fuzzy Britches seemed a bit lazier than your average scuttlebutt. She was pregnant. Blanche, Dorothy, and Rose (names I’d given them having no idea what gender the baby scuttlebutts were) had been born about a week after theincidentwith Huxley. Thanks to Deni’s poppa, their appearance hadn’t been entirely unexpected.
One of the baby scuttlebutts skittered lower, wrapping its tail around one of Aurelia’s large ears and hanging upside down like an opossum. It swayed back and forth, appearing as if Aurelia had a furry earing.
Unaffected by the dangling scuttlebutt, Aurelia looked around the gathering, her expression neutral if not a little curious. The same couldn’t be said for our Wiccan elder whose color went decidedly pale when not only Aurelia showed up, but a second djinn as well.
Helios stood in the background, his gaze nearly as neutral and apathetic as Aurelia’s. Arms crossed, he leaned against the fence separating our properties. For better or worse, Peachesnow found himself themasterof two djinn. God only knew how that would turn out. From what I understood, Helios was still trying to figure out what Peaches’s game was. He couldn’t seem to grasp that Peaches truly was different and that he didn’t want anything. That was a concept not only djinn battled understanding.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Boone told Aurelia, his neck craned her way while his hands remained clasped in mine.
Holland shuffled like he was uncomfortable. That discomfort soon turned to irritation and when I looked closer, I could see seven, misty green tails fluttering around him. Holland swatted a hand toward the one skimming across his neck. Low, deep, mischievous chuckling filled the air.
“Irritating kitsune. Go away.” Holland said the words, but his crimson cheeks spoke of something more than anger.
“Make me,” came a smokey, rumbled voice. Holland’s cheeks darkened.
Aurelia’s head tilted slightly to the side, the odd, furry hat on her head twisting with her as Fuzzy Britches tightened her tail around Aurelia’s neck. “Curious mating behavior. The outcome will be interesting to witness.”
Holland whipped around. “I am not here for youramusement, and this isnotmating behavior.”
Deep laughter erupted from the gathered group, along with clapping and a whistle of appreciation. “Maybe not, but you’re sure as hell here for my amusement. Gaia, that’s hilarious.”
“Shut it, Kines.” Holland’s fingers twitched, lighting with little sparks of magic.
“Pops.” Boone’s tone was both pleading and amused. “Maybe you can have a row with Warlock Kinesafterthe ceremony.”
Those seven tails were now solid, Hikaru’s face peeking around Holland’s shoulder, a bold smirk lighting up his golden-green eyes. The kitsune was obviously pleased with himself.
Clearing his throat, Holland rolled his hand forward. “By all means. I will kill Vander Kines later. Please, proceed.”
Our Christian priest and Wiccan elder both appeared apprehensive and possibly a little nauseous. I couldn’t say that I blamed them. The priest managed a weak “a-are we r-ready?”
“Very much,” Boone and I said in unison.
The priest appeared uncertain. “P-perhaps we should wait until the tension has diminished and—”
“No,” Boone said. “It’s perfect just as it is.”
Boone was right. This was our life, our perfectly imperfect life. Quiet and serene weren’t us and never would be. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Resting his head against my forehead, Boone whispered, “I’d follow you anywhere, Franklin O’Hare. Not even Death can take you from me.”
They weren’t empty words. Death had tried their hardest and lost. “I love you, Erasmus Boone.”
