LeeAnne spoke graciously and gave a slight bow of her head but was in no way officious. That wasn’t her style, and while she was deferential, she was never obsequious, never someone’s punching bag.
Luckily, the yeti-hulk took the win and shuffled off, not even glancing at the pixie mayhem.
LeeAnne passed the next guests to the other clerks and came around to join Mal. She stomped over the floor as if she wore combat boots instead of sky-high stilettos. She wore an ivory pencil skirt and a black Chanel blouse with a pair of bright blue Louboutin fuck-me shoes, though who would dare try to fuck LeeAnne, Mal didn’t know.
They both looked up.
“Which one is the bride?” Mal asked.
Law manipulated magic, annihilating some things, bubbling off others, and a few remained amorphous and continued to chew up magic and grow larger. One was already the size of a rhino.
“None. These are from a different clan,” LeeAnne said drily.
“So this is sabotage?”
“Maybe. Maybe it’s just a prank.”
“If it is to sabotage the wedding, is it working?” Because it had to be targeted at Effrayant. Neither the pixies nor the giants were affected.
Her jaw hardened. “Not a chance.”
“When does the bride arrive?”
“Soon. She’s coming in another entrance. It’s why I wanted to meet you. Hold on.”
LeeAnne returned to the desk where a tall, slender reaper wraith stood. The edges of her shivered like smoke. She had a short, fashionable haircut, with a swing crop top and blousy palazzo pants. She wore red and orange Fluevog shoes with their distinct quirkiness.
Mal couldn’t hear their conversation, but it grew heated, at least on the part of the reaper wraith. Her voice grew louder, and it cut through Mal like nothing she’d ever felt before. It was like death’s own fingers stroking her soul.
“I will not. This is both unforgivable and inhospitable,” she said more distinctly, her voice melodic and so cold, Mal thought it should have come out as ice cubes.
LeeAnne actually flinched from the accusation. “I am sorry you think so. Nevertheless, there is nothing I can do.” Her gaze shot to Mal. “Unless…”
She crooked a finger at Mal, who obeyed the summons. If Mal had been a cat, curiosity would have killed her several thousand times over.
“What do you need?”
“This is Moira Withersmen. She has planned a gathering to celebrate her appointment to the Council of Mortality and Decay and accompany her to the gates of the CAMD Necropolis to take up her mantle of office. The appointment is a great honor, and it is expected that she will arrive with great pomp and circumstance. However, the wedding has prompted those companions to cancel their promised attendance, and Ms. Withersmen cannot delay her appointment. She assures me that arriving at the Necropolis without attendants will be appallingly embarrassing and demeaning for her.”
The reaper wraith in question made a choked sound like she was crying. LeeAnne’s face softened in pity, and she gave quiet little sigh.
“I have told Ms. Withersmen that there’s nothing I can do, but I believe that there is something that you can do,” she said to Mal.
Mal’s first instinct was to simply agree. It was a bad instinct, though, no matter how sad the poor woman was. “How can I help?”
“Your friends could join the ritual and accompany her.”
“Would they come to any harm?”
LeeAnne looked at the confused looking reaper wraith. “Will the ritual or the journey hurt the dead?”
She shook her head. “Only the living.” She darted a hopeful look at Mal then back to LeeAnne. “It is a ritual of celebration. And the journey is not onerous or dangerous.”
“Mal? What do you think?” LeeAnne asked.
“I don’t see why not. I can ask. They’re tired from yesterday, though. When do you need to do the ritual?” she asked Moira.
“We begin at midnight and end at midnight.”
