“Yes. Abdication of responsibilities has repercussions, Queenie darlin’.”
Which was totally true, and also just mean. It meant I should have been more involved in the prep if I was gonna fuss now. I accepted the bouquet again and tried to decode how to feel about this development. Leo had planned to woo me and win me himself. When that didn’t work, he’d sent me several men to fall for, but that hadn’t happened. I’d fallen for Bruiser, which had not been Leo’s plan at all. Leo had eventually acquiesced to my choice, thinking Bruiser would be a conduit to control me. That hadn’t worked out either. Not at all. Instead,Bruiser had fallen for me right back and we had refused to do what Leo wanted.
But Leo was a master planner, crafting layers upon layers of adaptable strategies. I had no idea if marrying me to Bruiser was a last-minute whim, or if it served a purpose.Crap.
“Smile, Janie,” Deon said. “You look like you mean to kill someone instead of marrying Bruiser.”
I huffed. Pasted a smile on my face. “Can’t I do both?”
Deon tittered. “You are such fun, Queenie. Go. This is your time.”
I took the first steps to the doorway, and the people who would walk me down the aisle; not to give me away, but as an honor guard. Molly grinned and wiped tears from her eyes. Koun, Eli, Alex, and Deon stepped toward me together. Deon had removed the feather from his top hat. I looked at my bouquet. Ah. Perfect. He’d put it into my bouquet, like a good luck charm. Something borrowed? The men’s suits were back tux, black tie, and white shirts, with gold cummerbunds. My court colors.
Koun stepped to me and extended his left arm. Eli held out his right. I figured they had fought over who was going to be hamstrung by having only his left arm free to shoot. Eli had lost, but he didn’t seem unhappy about it. Alex stood just in front of his brother looking all grown up, his curly mop barbered and neat. He glanced back at me and winked. Deon was in front of Koun.
All this bougee, ritzy, swanky stuff didn’t feel real. The world seemed distant, kinda fuzzy and soft around the edges, and at the same time, a little too bright, too crystalline, glistening, the way the remnants of a dream can feel when one wakes facing the morning sun.
Exhaling, bracing my bouquet carefully, I slid my arms through Eli’s and Koun’s, a strange sensory moment. The woolof their jackets was smooth along the silk of my sleeves, a soft shush of sound. Eli smelled of gun oil. Koun of the floral scent of vampires. Perfumes, vamp-scent, a hint of blood, flowed out to me from the sitting crowd. I closed my eyes and inhaled all the familiar smells, and the world steadied.
The music drew the attendants to face the back of the church. Molly started down the aisle. My group stood in the doorway.
The stringed music trailed off. There was a pregnant silence before the piano began notes I didn’t know. In that moment of silence, the gathering stood and turned to me. My gaze swept the crowd until I found Bruiser at the end of the aisle, white tie and tails, gold cummerbund with a tiny black pinstripe, hands clasped in front of him. Waiting for me.
His eyes met mine down the length of the chapel, his dark as warm chocolate, so full of love. That instant connection between us was intense, like being hit by lightning, juddering through my body. He didn’t smile, but held my eyes. A tremble started in my soul and flowed through me into a smile. His lips parted slightly and he blinked as if he’d been hit by a baseball bat before he steadied and smiled back.
The music was not the traditional wedding march. It was something poignant, maybe from a ballet.
Bruiser took a single step down the aisle toward me. Leo Pellissier was positioned behind him on the dais, wearing his priest-like suit and collar. Pale skinned with blue veins showing in his temples. Starved and skeletal, as most outclan priests were.
Vamps in a church. Leo an outclan priest. So much changed since the Mithrans got back their souls inThe Change.
We began our walk down the aisle. I spotted Rick LaFleur and Nell in the crowd. Her husband whose name I didn’tremember. Every vamp I had ever met. Dozens of witches and humans. My breath came short before evening out.
After that, everything was a blur, until Bruiser and I placed the rings on each other’s left ring fingers. They fit perfectly. Of course. Bruiser had ordered the rings made. And Bruiser was perfect so everything he did was perfect.
Leo pronounced us married: “Jane Yellowrock and George Dumas, the Dark Queen and the Prince Consort.”
Bruiser kissed me. Whispering, lips to lips, “I love you. I love you. I love you, forever.”
We turned to the back of the church. Big Evan stood there, his red beard plaited into a dozen braids, his tux black with teal accents. We hadn’t gotten along. For years. But we were better than good now. He bowed to me. When he rose, there was love in his eyes. Kindness. Bruiser and I ran down the aisle and, as we raced by, Big Evan spoke a blessing over us, a blessing with a push of his magic. “May your troubles be less, and your blessings be more, and nothing but happiness come through your door. Live with peace.”
Sparks of power shot across us, like holiday sparklers burning over our skin. Big Evan’s gift to us, a witch blessing.
???
I wasn’t sure how we got there, but suddenly we were dashing outside the Sunrise Stone Chapel into the back garden. Tiny fairy lights were strung everywhere, tables covered by white linen were laden with food, including a suckling pig, steak tartare, salmon, a table of BBQ and country fixings provided by Lincoln Shaddock, MOC of Asheville. Two tables bore the weight of Louisiana favorites: boudin, a tureen of gumbo, etouffee, rice and beans, sausages, and a ten-gallon bucket of mudbugs.Chairs and tables for sitting dotted the garden, a bar for humans was at the back of a row of rosemary plants. A more private blood-bar for the vamps was off the far side of the chapel, and a DJ, perched on a tiny stage, was playing Could I have this Dance for the Rest of My Life.
We were mobbed, pictures were taken. A new song began. I knew this one, though its name wouldn’t come to my tongue. It was the first song Bruiser and I had ever danced to. Latin beat. Oh . . . He had thought of everything. His arms raised high.
Just like that first time.
I stepped into him, hip to hip, my right thigh between his, we gripped each other’s hands tight. My eyes held his brown ones. He adjusted his hold, ready to dip me. My left leg wrapped his thigh, holding myself in place. He dipped me backward, saying, “I adore—”
A shot rang out.
Bruiser staggered. Blood bloomed on the front of his shirt, at the juncture of his neck and collarbone. Scarlet over the white bow tie. Splashed over me. Hot. Another bloody gout, before the first could cool. He caught me to him with one arm. Eyes wide.
In a single eyeblink, I rammed my left foot down, into the ground.
