“You did,” Curse says, which makes her face pucker with confusion.Leo enters now, letting the heavy wooden door shut behind him.He stations himself there, looking exactly like a soldier.
Because he is.
Tammy looks a little nervous now.I can’t blame her.This is exactly what I thought would happen.Curse, Robbie, and Leo are an intimidating trio, all of them tall, tattooed, and packing heat, even if she doesn’t know it.Trying to dispel the tension, I step forward.
“Hi.Are you the, um, pastor?Or minister?We’re looking to…” I hesitate, catching Curse staring intently at me.“We’re looking to get married,” I finish on a rush.
“Married,” Tammy repeats blankly.She gives me a closer look.I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s trying to ascertain whether I’m high or not.I remain still under her gaze, trying to project soberness, project normalcy.She finishes her appraisal, shaking her head and looking as perplexed as ever.“You know it’s six in the morning, right?”
“We’re aware,” Curse replies.“We’ve got ID.And the wedding license.”
“I…” Tammy gestures towards the tables.“I don’t know what to tell you.In an hour we’re opening the doors for breakfast.We’re not-”
“We don’t need an hour,” Curse cuts in, his voice all cold authority.Tammy snaps her mouth shut and swallows.Some of the colour drains from her face as she lets her gaze run over Curse once more.
I’ve seen it before.The way regular people start to shrink in front of him.At first, they’re often dazzled by his good looks and height.But after a few seconds of confronting the empty ice of those eyes, the not-quite-human expression in them, they can’t help but sense some sort of wrongness.Heartrates rocket, goosebumps prickle, and survival instincts kick in.Because being in front of Curse is like standing, breathless, at the edge of a cliff.The view might be beautiful.But the fall will fucking kill you.
“I’m going to go and get the minister,” Tammy says on a tight exhale.She goes through another set of doors, letting them close between us.
“Let’s hope she isn’t actually going to call the cops on us,” I say quietly once she is gone.
“She’s not,” Curse says with complete certainty.“We’ve given her no reason to.”
“Technically, we just broke in,” I remind him.“The doors were locked.”
Leo and Robbie are both hovering by those doors now.I see that they’ve relocked them from the inside.
When the other, inner doors open, it isn’t Tammy who comes through them, but a short man with greying hair and glasses.He looks more like an accountant than a religious official, dressed in nice jeans and a crisp, white, button-down shirt.But when Curse asks him if he is the minister, he confirms that he is.
“My name is Lee,” he says.“Tammy mentioned something about you looking for wedding services?”
“Correct.”Curse puts down his bag on a clear spot on one of the food tables, opening the zipper just wide enough to fish out the wedding license.“We’ve got the license.If you want our passports, we’ve got those, too.”
He holds the license out to Lee, who merely blinks down at it, like Curse has pulled out something as unexpected as a severed head.
“It sounds like you’ve got everything in order,” Lee says slowly.“But I’m afraid we can’t accommodate you right now.We have procedures for these sorts of things, and-”
Curse passes me the license, then returns to his bag, apparently no longer listening.My chest clenches when he reaches into the bag, thinking he’s about to pull out a gun.But when his hand emerges, it’s holding a fat stack of Canadian bills.Lee’s eyes bug out of his head when Curse offers the money to him instead.
“Look, I don’t know what you’re doing,” Lee sputters.“But this is a holy house of God.I will not be threatened or bribed.”
“Who said anything about bribing?”Curse says smoothly, even though he was the one to use that very word last night.“We’re merely paying for the wedding ceremony.”
“With what looks to be more than two thousand dollars in cash?”Lee says.His face and neck are red.“How do I know where you even got that money?”
“You know exactly where I got it,” Curse replies.“You saw me pull it out of that bag.”He tilts his head towards the black bag on the table.The black bag with yet more of his cash.The black bag with his guns.
“Please take it,” I breathe, stepping between the two men.I’m panicking that Curse is going to move on from the bribing portion of things to the beating.Curse won’t care that we are in a church.Curse won’t care that this is a normal man, a decent man, the kind of man who gets up early to help organize food drives for the homeless on cold, dark mornings.Curse would beat him, break him, without hesitation or remorse.
I don’t want to see that happen.
“Please,” I say again, making pleading eye contact with Lee.“Think how much good you could do with that money.Think how many more breakfasts like this you could provide.”
Lee studies my face.Then, softly, he asks, “Miss, do you need help?”
I can practically feel the tension that rams its way through Curse’s body at Lee’s question.Like he’s anticipating me spilling my guts to this kind minister, anticipating me trying to run.
Instead, I take Curse’s hand.It’s cool.His fingers close over mine at once, like a vise.
