The mysterious man—my stranger—laughed darkly, grinning. “I am the man who has come to take Valeria McCallister as my wife, sir.”
Six
The cathedral erupted in furious whispers as the newcomer leaned against the front pew, observing the outrage. The man was just as he was the night of the engagement party. The sunlight captured long, silvery hair draped over his black-and-red suit hidden underneath by a cape. Those same golden irises peered out from the mask covering the white lines of his scar as he scanned the room.
“Well”—he stalked toward the altar with a slow, steady gait—“I have an objection to this marriage and I’d like to make myself clear on this matter.”
“Who the hell do you think you are waltzing in here and demanding a woman who is about to be married?” William spat. “Valeria is mine.”
“You act as if the girl belongs to you.” He studied William with a bored look before his fiery gaze landed on me. “Have you asked what she wanted?”
“What she wants is of no concern to the matter at hand,” William growled. “What matters is your interruption and rude behavior of declaring Valeria asyourwife.”
“But have you asked her what she wanted?”
“No, of course not. What she wants is of little interest to me for this marriage to be.”
Gloria hopped out of the pew, flanked by Mama. “Perhaps we should take this elsewhere, sir. Would you follow me to—”
Ignoring the women, he continued on stalking the altar as if he were a cat and William a mouse. “You have no thought nor bother to ask Valeria what she wants,” he added with a sly grin. “Perhaps she doesn’t want to marry you? Ever thought of that?”
Whispers from the crowd erupted, and William, red in the face, glared at the stranger. He gripped my wrist like an animal, thrusting me nearly off the altar, then raising my arm high in the air for all to see. “She is mine, do you hear? Her life is mine.”
“No, her life belongs to death, and I am here to collect.”
Gloria approached William, attempting to alleviate the pressure from my wrist. “Honey, calm down. Let the poor girl go. You’re hurting her.” She stroked his back in swift motions.
The prieststaggered forward, his rosary clutched in his shaking hand. “Be gone, evil beast.” He launched himself into prayer, white-knuckling his beaded idol.
“Let us be rational here,” Mama said, turning toward the confused crowd. “I am sure this is all a misunderstanding. Everyone, please calm down, and, sir”—Mama gestured to the man—“please see yourself out.”
“Mama,” I started, twisting out of William’s grasp. “Stop.”
The man remained stoic, prowling to the stained glass windows at the edge of the church. He flickered up at the images of the gods who bore down on us all, who were judging us all in the events transpiring.
A delicate finger traced upwards to the lines of the images. Shimmering light refracted under his command, twisting colorful strands around his fingers.
“Unto love’s curse, I surrender thee a lamb to the slaughter. Find a way to set free your greatest desires.”
He whispered the odd phrase softly to himself, almost sounding like a prayer in a holy place in front of the crowd.
William grew further flustered as the gentleman’s refusal to leave became more apparent.
William marched over to the man. “From gentleman to gentlemen. I suggest you take your leave before this gets ugly.”
The man’s gold gaze hardened.
He swept forward and met William where he stood with his arms behind him. “I’ll only leave if Valeria wishes it so.”
“She wishes to marry me,” William growled. “Isn’t that right?”
“I didn’t ask you, did I?” He flickered to me and nodded. “What do you want, Valeria?”
I hesitated, my mind spinning as my legs threatened to buckle underneath my body.
Chest heaving, I struggled to form any words, shifting to the crowd, then back to the stranger.
William backed away from the man, grabbed my wrist, and pointed toward the priest. “You—marry us this instant. I will not stand for this insolence.”
