My Big Fat Supernatural Wedding (36 page)

She ground her teeth as Acheron helped her place the stone over the mark. Tears flowed down her cheeks from the pain and fear as she waited for Rafael to open his eyes.

It seemed an eternity had passed before Acheron pulled the dagger out of his chest.

An instant later, Rafael took a deep breath and blinked his eyes open to look at her.

Celena laughed in giddiness as she saw eyes that were no longer black. Now his eyes were a light amber brown that sparkled with human life. He was even more handsome than he'd been before.

Biting her lip, she pulled him into her arms and held him close.

Acheron moved away and returned the dagger to his boot.

"Thanks, boss," Rafael said as he pushed himself to his feet.

Acheron gave him a kind grin. "I'm not your boss anymore, Rafael. 
She
 is."

Rafael laughed. "That doesn't bother me."

Acheron snorted. "Yeah, be glad you're human now. Nothing like answering to one single woman for eleven thousand years to make you wish for the end of time."

Celena laughed again. "Thank you, Acheron."

He inclined his head to them. "You kids have fun."

Rafael looked down at the woman in his arms and tightened his hold on her.

"Trust me, we will."

And as soon as Acheron was gone, Celena pulled him down for a fierce kiss.

Rafael's head swam at the taste of her. It was a taste he would now spend the rest of his life savoring.

New York Times
 bestselling author Sherrilyn Kenyon has more than six million copies of her books in print, in twentyfour countries. She is the author of the DarkHunter novels, which have an international cult following and have appeared on the topten lists of 
The New York Times, The Globe and Mail
 (Toronto),

Publishers Weekly,
 and 
USA Today.
 Writing as both Sherrilyn Kenyon and Kinley MacGregor, she is the author of several other series, including Brotherhood of the Sword, Lords of Avalon, and BAD.

Near Nashville, Tennessee, Sherrilyn Kenyon lives a life of extraordinary danger

... as does any woman with three sons, a husband, a menagerie of pets, and a collection of swords on which all of the above have a major fixation.

Visit her Web site at

www.sherrilynkenyon.com

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Susan Krinard

Author's note: This story is set in an alternate Victorian England, Albion, where
 
magical talents, like land and titles of the peerage, are inherited or "entailed"

among the Albian aristocracy. Commoners may sometimes manifest "knacks" or
 
minor Residual Talents,

. . . Into which holy
 estate these two persons present come now to be joined. Therefore if any man can show any just cause why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter for ever hold his"

"I have cause!"

The bishop's mouth dropped open, showing a full set of crooked teeth. The congregation in the pews twisted around with like expressions of shock, and a deadly hush fell over St. Bertram'sintheFens.

The man who had spoken stood at the rear of the church, fists clenched in defiance. Though he wore respectableenough clothing and his hair was neatly combed, his accent was that of the Eirish commons, and it was immediately clear to Lady Olivia Dowling that he did not belong in this exalted company of Albion's most noble patricians. Lord Edward Parish, still kneeling at the altar, glared at the intruder with such ire that he seemed very apt to display his Luciferian powers and start a fire right then and there.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

The unwelcome guest faltered beneath several score hostile, unwavering stares and then gathered his courage. "My name does not matter," he said, his voice booming up to the buttresses. He looked directly at Lady Emma, bridetobe and daughter of the Earl of Wakefield. "If only you had told me the truth. I would have understood. I"

He broke off, his ruddy skin going pale. Olivia frowned and studied him more carefully, sinking deep into her Talent as an Anatomist. The man's body betrayed him. His heart had begun to beat very fast, his palms to sweat, his eyes to widen with violent alarm. Olivia glanced again at Edward, who still stood at the altar.

Lady Emma swayed, and Edward caught her against him.

The bishop finally found his voice. "Who are you?" he echoed. "You have interrupted a most solemn ceremony. What have you to say?"

When it was over, Olivia could not have said precisely what she had felt before the man bolted. It was rather as if she heard something through his ears, an eerie wail that could not have come from a mortal throat. She knew that the stranger was consumed by such dreadful fear that it seemed that his heart must burst from his body.

He spun about, fell to one knee, scrambled to his feet, and charged for the doors, keening in despair.

A woman screamed. Everyone rose in a rustle of long skirts and the shuffle of polished shoes, and a trio of guests at the rear of the nave pursued the intruder out into the watery London sunshine. Olivia heard a rough, masculine cry of sheer terror, and then silence. A moment later one of the guests returned, his expression set and grim. He started for the altar, where Lady Emma trembled in Edward's arms.

"I beg your pardon," Olivia said to her nearest neighbors as she squeezed past them out of the aisle. She looked about for Kit and, not seeing him, strode for the doors.

A flood of wedding guests poured out of the church, crowding about Olivia as she paused at the top of the steps. A woman at Olivia's elbow gasped, and a gentleman cursed under his breath.

The stranger lay at the bottom of the steps, his body twisted, his head bent at an improbable angle. One of the guests crouched by his side. Christopher Meredith"Kit" to his dearest friendswas particularly handsome today in his wedding clothes, his unruly black hair tamed into a semblance of order and no whiff of the Black Dog about him, though he wore his smokelensed spectacles to hide the crimson glint in his eyes.

Olivia remembered the third guest who had followed the unfortunate stranger and searched the crowd of gawkers that had gathered in the square to point and gossip. She caught a glimpse of a gentleman's wellcut suit, an impression of aristocratic features, just before the man turned and vanished into the mob.

Olivia lifted her skirts and rushed down the steps with indecorous haste. Kit looked up as she joined him.

"Lady Olivia," he said, inclining his head with grave formality. "I'm afraid he has passed on."

Olivia knelt beside him, calling upon her fickle Residual gift and praying that this time it would obey her summons. In an instant she knew that Kit's diagnosis was correct.

"He appears to have died of a broken neck," she murmured. "What do you suppose he was running away from?"

"Probably thought better of his dashed interruption in a church filled to the rafters with Talent and a bridegroom capable of frying him in his boots."

Olivia clucked. "This is no time for levity, Kit. He was terrified before he fled the church, as if he'd seen a . . ."

A what?
 she asked herself. Unless one of the guests was an Illusionist or an extremely rare Conjuror, it was highly unlikely that the man could have seen an apparition invisible to the guests. And yet. . .

"There's a stink of magic in the air," Kit said more seriously, "but I can't identify it. It isn't human, that's certain."

"Then he was driven to his death by supernatural means."

Kit frowned. "It's possible. But just as I arrived, I saw a man in wedding clothes departing the scene. It wouldn't be difficult to trip someone fleeing down the stairs in a state of mortal terror."

"And if this man was murdered . . ." She bit her lip. "Who would want to silence a man with objections to a marriage?"

She and Kit exchanged glances. The motives were obvious when one wished to protect the reputation of one's daughter ... or fiancee.

"Lord Wakefield wouldn't stoop to such an act, even if he anticipated this disturbance in time to arrange the murder," Olivia protested. "And as for Edward . .

."

"Impossible," Kit agreed. "But whatever or whoever contributed to this man's end, the devil's in it now. The police are on their way, although I'm sure that Lord Wakefield will arrange to keep the matter quiet. The bishop will call a halt to the proceedings pending an investigation . . . and as the subject is dead . . ."

"Poor Emma. What an odious thing to happen on one's wedding day." She shook her head. "Will you see Edward?"

"Yes. He'll be distraught, but Emma . . ." He sighed. "You should go to her, Livvy. Her mother will be having a fit of the vapors, and her other relations won't help in the least."

"Of course." She touched Kit's arm. "I'll see you later, then."

She hurried back up the stairs and continued on through the nave to the vestry, where Emma sat surrounded by her family and a most agitated clergyman. Emma's sister was weeping, Lord Wakefield was pacing furiously, his wife the countess lay prostrate on a settee, and Edward was nowhere to be seen.

Olivia went straight to Emma and took her icy hands. "Are you all right, my dear?" she asked gently.

Emma met Olivia's gaze, her eyes great wells of misery. "Edward is furious," she whispered. "The wedding must be postponed. And I hear that the young man is dead. . . ."

"Hush." Olivia stroked a loose strand of hair away from Emma's face. "Don't trouble yourself about that now. I want to help you, Emma. Can you answer a few questions?"

"I . . . believe so."

"Good girl. Have you ever seen that man before?"

Olivia felt Emma's heart jump, but her answer was swift and vehement. "No."

"He is of Eirish descent. You know no one from that country?"

"Only servants, and they would have no cause" She broke off and raised her handkerchief to her mouth, stifling a sob.

She was clearly in no state to cooperate in any investigation, so Olivia comforted the thwarted bride with every reassurance she could muster. "Don't worry, my dear. I will do whatever I can to help you."

Emma sniffed but didn't answer. Olivia took her leave and went back outside, where the guests were finally beginning to disperse. The police had come and gone, taking the body with them.

"Any luck?" Kit asked, coming up beside her.

"None. Apparently Emma didn't know the man, although . . ."

Kit arched a brow. "Although what?"

"There is something very peculiar about the entire situation."

"And you naturally wish to get to the bottom of it."

"Naturally. Emma is in a great deal of distress. If the investigators determine that the stranger was in fact made to fall, suspicion could descend upon Emma's family.

This could be a scandal of epic proportions"

"And you could never contain your curiosity in any case."

Olivia wrinkled her nose. "Don't tell me that you have not resolved to take action yourself."

"But of course. I am Edward's friend, after all." Kit offered his arm, and they walked in the direction of Olivia's waiting carriage. "But I would never dream of doing so without you at my side."

"Or you at mine." They smiled at each other, content in the perfect understanding of a long and durable friendship.

"Emma is gone."

“Gone?”

“Is my speech as incomprehensible as all that, Mr. Meredith?” Olivia said irritably, pausing to instruct the coachman to deliver her to her hotel. "The countess says that Emma must have departed before dawn this morningcrept out without so much as waking her maidand left only a brief note that said nothing of her reasons save that she had no choice but to go. She took only one small bag . . .

scarcely enough for a lady of her breeding, even for a single day."

"Not all ladies of breeding feel compelled to carry their entire wardrobe wherever they travel," Kit said, giving Olivia a pointed glance. "Perhaps Lady Emma is more like you than most of these simpering society damsels."

"Don't be foolish, Kit. Even if that were so, why should she run off, and without a decent word to her family? Surely she can't be so ashamed of yesterday's incident"

Unless she has something to do with the death,
 Olivia thought, but Kit suggested a slightly more palatable explanation.

"It's quite possible that she knows there is some substance to the stranger's objection, which she has failed to admit to her interrogators"he cast Olivia another piercing look"and she fears to have her secret exposed."

Olivia folded her arms across her chest. "What 'secret' do you suggest? That Emma is already married, or that she and Edward are within the proscribed degree of blood relation?" She snorted. "That is ridiculous, and you know it."

"I admit that it does seem unlikely. But it's no coincidence that she left within a day of the interrupted wedding."

"No. And Emma's family have not been able to locate her, though they have had servants, police, and Finders looking for her since she was first discovered missing."

Kit examined a cracked fingernail. "Are you still committed to solving this mystery, Livvy?"

"More than ever."

"Then we shall have to summon Old Shuck."

Olivia rolled her eyes at the quaint old East Anglian name Kit gave his other half. "You know I'm as fond of dogs as any good Albian, but"

"Old Shuck is no mere dog," Kit said with feigned affront. "Really, Livvy. If even Finders can't locate Lady Emma, then she has well and truly disappeared. A Residual Talent, perhaps?"

Olivia thought of her own vexingly unreliable ability as an Anatomistone who could literally see into the human body, which was only a tiny part of the power she would receive once her grandmother chose to bestow her magical inheritance.

Primogeniture declared that nonmagical assets such as land and title were almost always passed on from peer to eldest son, leaving younger sons and daughters with lesser property or modest annuities.