My Big Fat Supernatural Wedding (29 page)

Don was clearly conflicted between the woman on the ground (whom Dahlia could see now was what she thought of as medium pregnant), his distraught fiancee, and Dahlia.

"Dahlia, what do you say?" he asked harshly.

"I say, the fucking bitch stabbed me," Dahlia said clearly. "And would someone please pull out this damn knife before I heal around it? I mean, just any old time will do, unless you want to moan some more over Little Miss Homicide there." It was convenient that none of them had heard Dahlia offer to take care of Don's ex a few moments earlier. It gave her the definite moral high ground. Pregnant women, after all, were revered by almost everyone, both supernatural and human, and Dahlia needed all the leverage she could get. Without moving, because the pain was so intense she might fall down, Dahlia scanned the ring of Weres blocking the group from the view of passersby. "Todd, would you do the honors?" she asked, biting her lips with the pain. "You might even enjoy it."

Todd looked like there was nothing he'd enjoy less.

He bent down to look into Dahlia's green eyes, narrowed with the effort of sustaining her dignity. "I salute your courage," he said, and then he put one hand against her abdomen and yanked out the knife with the other.

Dahlia would have collapsed to her knees (terribly embarrassing) if the big Were hadn't caught her.

The next few minutes were a dim blur for Dahlia. She heard Don's stern voice, even deeper than usual, ordering Amber to tell the truth. Amber, a mediumsized blonde with a large bosom, wept copious tears and told her own jumbled version of events. In this version, she just happened to have a knife with her, in fact, ready in her hand, when Dahlia had jumped her. As to why Amber happened to be there in the first place, she whined that she'd just wanted to catch a glimpse of Don. Even the Weres didn't believe that.

"An attack on the packmaster's wife is an attack on the packmaster himself,"

Todd said.

"Then this vampire is as much at fault for breaking Amber's arm as Amber is for trying to kill Taffy," said the Amazon, trying very hard not to smile. "Since Amber is Don's wife."

"
Was
Don's wife," the packmaster himself corrected. "Before the state and the pack, I divorced Amber. Her attack on Taffy counts as an attack against me."

"Does not," argued the Amazon. "You haven't married Taffy, yet."

"Oh, for goodness' sake," Dahlia muttered. "Bore me to death, why don't you."

She felt Todd's chest shaking, and realized he was laughing silently. The wound in her side was almost healed, but she took her time pushing away from the Were's support. He was warm, and he smelled good.

She looked down at herself, taking stock. Her dress was ruined. Ruined! And she'd just paid off her credit card bill! "My dress," she said sadly. "At least make her pay for my dress. Did blood get on my shoes?" She hobbled over to a streeylight and held out a foot in an attempt to survey the damage. "Yes!" she said, going from grief to outrage in an undead minute. The shoes were brandnew and had cost more than the dress. "Okay, that does it." Her head snapped up and she glared at Don. "Amber pays for my dress and my shoes, and she doesn't come within five miles of Taffy for a year."

She was speaking into a chasm of silence. At the sound of her crisp voice, all conversation had ceased. Everyone was staring at her, even the whimpering Amber.

Don blinked. "Ah, that sounds fair," he said. "Honey?"

There was another embarrassing moment when both Amber and Taffy believed this appellation referred to them and began to respond simultaneously. Don gave Amber a look of withering contempt, which prompted a fresh burst of noisy tears.

Taffy said, "That seems a very moderate sentence, to me."

Dahlia knew from her friend's mild tone that Taffy thought Amber should be drawn and quartered, no matter what her condition.

"Amber, do you agree?" Don asked.

"What about her paying my hospital bill? I have to get this wrist set, after all."

"That's stupid, even for you," Todd said, into the general silence. "Amber, one more offense and the whole pack will abjure you."

Dahlia didn't know what being abjured consisted of, but the mere threat was an effective deterrent. Amber was shocked silent.

Two of the Were women loaded Amber into a car and headed off, presumably for the hospital. The rest of the crowd dispersed, leaving Todd, Dahlia, Don, and Taffy on the sidewalk.

Dahlia held up a hand to examine in the light. The slash across the palm had completely healed, and when she touched the wound in her ribs, she only felt a slight tenderness. "I'll take my leave," she said. She wanted to divest herself of her ruined clothes, shower, and knock back a few pints of synthetic blood before dawn.

"I'll walk you home," Todd said. It would be hard to say who in the little crowd was the most surprised by this statement.

"That's not necessary," Dahlia said, after a second's recovery.

"I know you can carry me over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes," Todd said.

He looked down at Dahlia. "And I'm not saying I'm happy about my packleader marrying a vamp, legal or not. But I'm gonna walk you home, unless you fly away."

Dahlia's brows drew together.

"After all," he said, "I'm in charge of security for the wedding, and I'm the best man. Since you're the maid of honor, I understand, you'll be responsible for security on your side? We should talk."

Dahlia turned to Don and Taffy, who were standing hand in hand, looking shellshocked. "I will see you tomorrow night, Taffy," the vampire said formally.

"Don." She nodded at the packleader, still not able to think of a formal pleasantry that would suit the unsuitable alliance.

The big Were and the little vampire walked side by side for a few blocks.

Everyone they met stepped off the sidewalk to give them room, and the odd pair never even noticed.

"You're quite articulate for a Were." Dahlia's voice was cool and steady.

"Hey, some of us have even graduated from high school," he said easily.

"Myself, I made it through college without tearing up one single coed."

"I shared my brother's tutor until my parents decided that, as a girl, I didn't need to learn any more," Dahlia said, to her own surprise. To cover her confession, Dahlia launched into a discussion of the security measures for the wedding. The vampires would guard the doors to the mansion; the only people on the premises should be the invited guests and the catering staff.

"Are all the vampires living in the mansion invited to the wedding?" Todd asked, trying to sound casual.

"Yes," Dahlia said, after a moment's consideration. "We're all nestmates, after all."

"How's that work?"

"Well, we live together under Cedric's rule, since he's the sheriff of this area. As long as we're nestmates, we protect each other and come to each other's aid."

"And contribute to Cedric's purse?"

"Well, yes. If we stayed in a hotel, we'd pay for lodging, so that's fair."

"And do his bidding?"

"Yes, that, too."

"A lot like the pack does for the packleader."

"I had assumed so. What part will the Weres play in security?" Dahlia asked.

Todd was asking entirely too many questions.

"There should be a Were at every door, too, along with a vamp. We need to make sure that one or the other knows everyone who comes into the mansion that day.

This wedding isn't popular with anyone, vamps or Weres, and though Don is totally not worried, I am."

"None of the vampires are worried, except me," Dahlia confessed. They'd arrived at a side door to the huge house on a street in the heart of the haughtiest section of the city. Cedric had had centuries of savings to use in purchasing this prime piece of Rhodes real estate, and though having a vampire among them hadn't made the wealthy neighbors happy, the city's Freedom of Housing ordinance had reinforced the vampires' right to live where they chose.

Todd said, "Good night, dead lady."

"Good night, hairball," she said. But just before the door closed behind her, she turned to smile at him.

The day of the wedding closed clear and warm, ideal for the outside ceremony.

Acting uneasily in tandem, the Were and vamp security teams had admitted the catering staff, scanning their ID cards quickly The teams paid more careful attention to the invitations presented by their own kind.

When Dahlia checked out the garden, the fountain of synthetic blood was flowing beautifully, champagne glasses arranged in a tier on a table beside it. It was a pretty touch, and Dahlia was proud she'd arranged it with the caterer, along with a groaning buffet for the Weres and a bar with drinks both alcoholic and nonalcoholic. Dahlia walked down the buffet, checking the stainlesssteel eating utensils and the napkins and heated containers full of food. It seemed sufficient, though Dahlia was not much of a judge. The two servers stood stiffly behind the buffet, eyeing her passage with unhappy eyes. Every human on the catering staff was tense.
They've never served vampires,
she thought,
and maybe the Weres are
giving off some kind of vibration, too.

She wasn't a bit surprised to encounter Todd, who was making a circuit of the high brick wall that guarded the large backyard of the mansion.

"Where's your dress?" he asked. "I'm panting to see it." Dahlia was in a black robe, modestly tied at her waist. Todd was already in his tuxedo. Dahlia had to blink.

"You look good," she said, her voice almost as calm as usual, though her fangs were sliding out. "Good" was a definite understatement. "Like a lifesize Ken doll."

"I can't believe you even know what a Ken doll is," he said, laughing. "If I'm a big Ken, you're a miniature vampire Barbie."

She'd been called worse things. She'd always admired Barbie's wardrobe and fashion sense.

"See you in a few minutes," she said, and went to get dressed.

Hanging over the door to the closet in Dahlia's little room was the bridesmaid dress. After a prolonged struggle with Taffy, Dahlia had talked her out of ordering pale pink with ruffles or pale blue with artificial roses sewn across the bodice. And no big bow on the butt. And no hat with veil. In fact, her nestmate Fortunata came in just as Dahlia shimmied into the gown. Fortunata smiled at Dahlia's cautious look down the length of her body.

Taffy, despite her strange lack of judgment about this marriage, had finally had the sense to realize vampires would look ridiculous in innocent ruffles, girlish flounces, and insipid colors. The bridesmaids, four of them, were wearing dark blue squarenecked long dresses that were formfitting but not sleazily tight, and the spaghetti straps ensured that no one would lose whatever modesty she might possess. There were a few glittery sequins strewn across the chest to give the dress a little sparkle, and they were all wearing black high heels and carrying bouquets of pale pink and creamy white roses. Fortunata had just come from adding a little extra item to the bouquets, at Dahlia's request.

"Mission accomplished. Now I'm ready to fix your hair," Fortunata said, finding Dahlia's brush in the clutter on the dressing table. Fortunata had had a way with hair for centuries, and she brushed and pulled and twisted until Dahlia's black tresses were a model of sophisticated simplicity, with a couple of ringlets trailing here and there carelessly, to add just that touch of sensuous abandon.

"Not too shabby," was Fortunata's verdict when she and Dahlia stood side by side, and Dahlia had to agree. She felt a pleasurable tingle when she thought of Todd seeing her in the complete ensemble, and she hurriedly suppressed the reaction. Every time she viewed herself in a mirror, she felt a thrill of pleasure that the old canard about vamps having no reflection simply wasn't true.

The two bridesmaids united with the rest of the bride's side of the wedding party in the large common room at the back of the mansion. Taffy was in full wedding regalia, a pale redhead dripping in ivory lace. "She looks like a big white cake covered in icing," Fortunata muttered, and Dahlia, who actually agreed, said,

"Hush. She looks beautiful." The long sleeves, the lace, the veil, the coronet of pearls . . . "We're lucky we're bridesmaids," Dahlia muttered. She drifted across the enormous, opulent room to gaze out the French doors at the scene outside. The French doors led out onto the flagstoned terrace, and from the terrace down onto the lawn. The scene looked very familiar, with white chairs in two groups of orderly lines, with a red carpet bisecting the groups. Either the catering company Cedric had hired was the same one that had had the concession at the wedding Dahlia attended a couple of weeks before or the arrangement was standard operating procedure. Dahlia had dispensed with the doves, fearing some of the Weres would eat the birds before they could be released.

A fairy or two mingled with the crowd, carefully staying over on the groom's side. Fairies were notoriously delicious to vampires, and though everyone was sure to be on his or her best behavior, not every vamp had the same threshold of selfcontrol. Dahlia recognized a goblin or two that Cedric did business with and assorted shapeshifters, including one dark exotic who changed into a cobra. (That had been a memorable sight on a memorable night. Dahlia smiled reminiscently) Just then, a chorus of howls outside announced the arrival of the groomsmen, all decked out in their tuxes. Dahlia could distinguish Todd even at a distance. His burnished head was shining in the torches that had been set at intervals up and down the lawn. His glasses glinted. Dahlia sighed.

The music, provided by a Were rock band that was a favorite of the groom's, was surprisingly pleasant. The lead singer had a wonderfully tender voice that wrapped itself around love songs in an affecting way. He began to sing a number that she knew was called simply "The Wedding Song," because Taffy had dragged her along when she picked out the music.

Of course, the words weren't altogether pertinent since the subjects getting married weren't human. Don wasn't going to leave his mother, and Taffy wasn't going to leave her home. Taffy's home had slid into the ocean a couple of centuries before, and Don's mother was now pregnant by another member of the pack. But the sentiment, that the two would cleave together, was timely.