27. Heathcliff

Ibolted upright, my mind a blur of nightmares of bloody sculptures and maggot-infested boxes and cut-out letters from the newspaper. Morrie lay curled against my chest, a pillow crease across his perfect cheekbone and an adorable line of drool hanging from the corner of his mouth.

Where's Mina?I fisted the sheets, trying to drag myself back to reality.

The clock on the bedside table read 5:45AM.

The wedding. The wedding.

We were getting married to Mina today.

And we still hadn't caught the killer or even figured out who they were or why they were after Mina.

A lump at my back stirred. "Why are you awake? The sun isn't even in the sky yet—" Morrie bolted upright, his eyes wide. "We're getting married today."

"Yes," I growled.

Morrie leapt to his feet, throwing the blankets off all of us. "Didn't you hear me? We're getting married. What are you doing lying around? We have lots to do and no time to do it. I hope you paid the water bill this month because I plan on showering for at least ninety-seven minutes. I want to look perfect for my bride?—"

"We didn't catch the killer," I whispered, not sure where Mina was.

Morrie's icicle eyes narrowed. "No, but they're hardly going to be able to get away with anything in a room full of people, are they? You've got all that extra security, and in case you've forgotten, we'll be there. We won't let anything bad happen to her."

He was right. If only I could get rid of this niggling worry stabbing into my chest. Usually, whisky would do the trick, but today I needed to be sober. I wanted to have a clear head if the killer showed their face and…

…and I wanted to be utterly in the moment when I kissed my bride.

I went out to the kitchen to start the coffee machine and found Quoth already there, three steaming cups of pitch-black perfection already lined up along the kitchen counter. I gulped back all three. Quoth arched an eyebrow, but he didn't say a thing. Instead, he set a fourth cup down in front of me and stirred his herbal tea.

"Where's Mina?"

"Jo already came to pick her up. They have hair appointments."

"Before the sun is fully awake?"

"Apparently, Mina has something extravagant planned." The orange around Quoth's eyes had all but disappeared. "Do you think that we should call off the?—"

"No."

"But what if the killer tries?—"

"They won't."

I wish I felt as confident as I sounded. Hayes and Wilson had promised a police presence. Plus, our friend Jo had roped in the ladies from her film club as a sort of unofficial security team, and there was nothing more terrifying to a would-be murderer than an army of pissed-off lesbians.

Speaking of Jo…I checked my phone. The little message icon had a 171 next to it. That was one more text since yesterday. I pulled up her number and hit connect.

She answered with a huff. "I sent you a text. Don't you ever answer your texts?"

"No," I growled. "You're lucky you're getting a phone call. My preferred method of communication is nothing at all, followed by strongly worded letters."

"Noted. I'm pleased with the special treatment. I was just reporting that our girl is safe and sound here at Lachlan Hall. Two officers are patrolling the estate. Mina hasn't noticed them. As far as she knows, everything is fine. We're just finishing breakfast, and then the primping will commence. You don't have to worry, Heathcliff. Everything will be okay. We're not going to let this bastard ruin your day. Try to relax and focus on the fact that you're getting married?—"

BANG. THUMP. CRASH.

I winced. "Got to go. See you later."

"See you?—"

I tossed the phone on top of the pile of stuff I needed to bring to Lachlan Hall, grabbed my sword, and stormed downstairs, Morrie hot on my heels.

"Oooh, hey!" Victor Frankenstein shook his fist at me as I stomped over his cot. "You stood on my hand. I need those fingers for…things!"

All around the first floor, people stirred from makeshift beds. Socrates was folding his chiton while dissecting the idea of moral absolution into his phone camera for his millions of adoring fans. The headless horseman sat glumly in the corner, nodding his stump patiently as Lancelot explained his philosophy for the care and keeping of noble steeds.

I followed the sounds of an escalating argument into the customer bathroom and found David Winter – Jane Austen scholar, numismatics devotee, and fine swordsmith, wrestling a toothbrush off Sherlock and holding it triumphantly over the toilet bowl.

"What's going on?" I growled, waving my sword in their faces.

"He stole my toothbrush!" Sherlock shouted.

"Stop crowding me while I'm in the bathroom." David pinched the end, swinging the brush over the loo. "This is my toothbrush, but luckily, I have a spare. Do you?"

"Don't you dare. That's my toothbrush. I distinctly remember it because I purchase the same Star Trek toothbrush?—"

"I can't believe we were ever an item." Morrie rolled his eyes as he disappeared back upstairs. He returned a moment later with a brand new, expensive-looking toothbrush still in its wrapping. He tossed it at Sherlock. "There. I won't have you breathing all over my new wife. Now, will the two of you stop bickering?"

"Much obliged." Sherlock raked a hand through his unkempt hair. "Give me twelve-and-a-half minutes to complete my toilette, and then I shall be ready to depart. And Morrie?"

Morrie raised an eyebrow.

My fingers closed around the hilt of my sword.

"You look good." Sherlock gave him a half smile that I didn't think was entirely innocent. "I mean, you look happy."

"I do, don't I?" Morrie grinned. "Better hurry, you've only got eight minutes and seventeen seconds left. The rest of you—" He glared at our guests. "We'll see you up at the hall when you're ready. Socrates is in charge of calling an Uber, and don't forget to lock up before you leave."

Morrie and Quoth called Ubers while I brought down our bags. Socrates kept tripping over the hem of his sheet, and David and Sherlock got into another argument about who had the widest cummerbund.

"Do they remind you of anyone?" Morrie asked as we climbed into our own vehicle, thankfully empty of any guests.

"They remind me of people I wish I didn't have to see again."

"They're us, you fool." His blue eyes sparkled. "I wouldn't be surprised if we find them snogging on the dance floor tonight."

"Spare me."

I barely paid attention to the drive. I stared at my hands and tried in vain to untangle the knots in my stomach.

You're just nervous because you want this to be perfect for Mina.

A uniformed officer stopped our car as we pulled into Lachlan Hall. I knew the police presence was meant to reassure us, but it set my teeth on edge. I hadn't exactly had the best relationship with the local constabulary, not with the whole ‘keeping me in jail for the night while they proved I didn't know how to text' thing.

The wheels crunched on gravel as we pulled into the parking area. Several guest and staff cars were already here. My chest tightened as I saw Cynthia running towards us.

"What's wrong now?" I growled as I slammed the car door, narrowly missing Morrie's face.

"Nothing. Everything is fine." Her voice trembled.

"Cynthia."

"It's nothing. We've had a bit of trouble with the decorations, and I think someone might have been poaching on our property. All the birds have disappeared from the pond." She must've seen my face because she brightened. "But we're fixing it! Don't worry. This wedding is going to go perfectly. The staff are offering your guests food and cocktails in the Yellow Drawing Room. I'll show the three of you to your suite."

Cynthia led us up the opulent staircase and through the winding corridors to a suite of rooms overlooking the now-empty pond. "You'll sleep in the bridal suite this evening," she said. "That's just down the hall. But I've set this room aside for you to get ready. All of Morrie's toiletries are set up in the rain shower. Your suits were pressed this morning and are hanging by the window, and I'll have some snacks and bubbles sent up?—"

"What happened to the decorations?" I growled.

"Nothing, nothing." Her face clouded over. "Well, we went to put out the Beauty and the Beast characters this morning, and a few of them appear to have been…stabbed."

"Stabbed?" Quoth's face fell.

"Not to worry, I have my staff in there right now, doing some emergency repairs. If you don't need anything else, I must run. I've got a wedding to pull off!"

Cynthia practically leapt for the door, slamming it shut behind her.

Quoth slumped in the armchair, his hair falling over his face. "What are we going to do?"

Morrie patted his shoulder. "I'm sure the decorations will look fine?—"

"I don't care about the decorations! I care that this killer is somewhere on the property. They've already gotten close enough to ruin the decorations. Mina is right here." His eyes flashed at me. "And she doesn't even know that she's in danger."

I flopped down on the opposite chair, my head falling into my hands. "Do you want me to admit that you're right? Fine. You're right, birdie. We should have told her. I didn't want her to feel afraid on her wedding day, but she should have at least known what she was walking into. If you want me to, I'll storm into the bridal suite now and tell her."

"What are we going to do?" Quoth's eyes brimmed with tears.

"We're here now," Morrie said brightly as he checked his cologne. "I've just texted Hayes to let him know what happened, and he says that he's sending extra people. I've told Jo to be extra vigilant, too, and Lydia's in there with Mina and Jo now. The killer may be sneaky, but no way will they be able to endure Lydia to get to our girl. She's as protected as she can be. We don't gain anything by busting in there and telling her."

"Except that we'd get to see her." Quoth stood and grabbed his suit from the rack. He started stripping off his clothes like he was the world's angriest chicken. "We'd know she's okay."

"Exactly. We'd see her. It's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding. We don't need any more bad luck. There is absolutely nothing else that can go wrong with this wedding now."

"I wouldn't speak too soon." Quoth made a face as he pulled our waistcoats out of the garment bag.

My jaw fell open.

How is that even possible?

All three waistcoats had an enormous hole gnawed through them. It looked as though something had eaten its way through one side of the fabric and out the other side.

"I…I don't understand." Morrie's blue eyes drained of verve. "How did?—"

"That's it." I yanked my suit off the rank and tossed it in the bin. "I give up. I just want to see Mina."

"Wait. I think I can solve this." Quoth rummaged around in the dresser drawers, croaking with triumph as he pulled out a sewing kit. He took a pair of scissors and started cutting into his waistcoat.

Morrie and I watched, jaws on the floor, as bits of expensive silk flew everywhere.

"Ta-da!" Quoth grinned as he held up his creation. He'd cut out a waistcoat shape from the back panel.

Morrie looked like he was trying not to laugh. "I don't know what school of tailoring you went to, birdie, but that's only half a waistcoat."

"Right." Quoth nodded. "A front half. The important half. What we do is glue these waistcoats to our shirts and put our jackets over the top. As long as we don't take off our jackets, no one will know that our waistcoats don't have backs."

"So, we're going to get married with cut-out waistcoats glued to our shirts?" Morrie looked aghast.

"Of course we bloody are." I fished out my shirt. "We're getting down that aisle to our Mina, no matter what."

Morrie bent down and kissed Quoth full on the lips. "You, birdie, are a genius."

"I know. Let's hurry before anything else goes wrong. Heathcliff, get in the shower. You know Morrie's going to take forever."

After a vigorous wash, I pulled my shirt over my head and held out my arms while Quoth pinned and glued. I winced as hot glue scalded my skin, but Mina was worth any level of pain. When he finished, I shrugged on my jacket and ran gelled fingers through my unruly hair.

"You look exactly how she'd want you to look." Morrie kissed the top of my head as he emerged from a steamy bathroom, wrapped in towels like Egypt's hottest mummy. "You look like you're ready to burn the world for her and you'll look damn fine doing it."

"Good."

Once he'd finished primping and preening, and Quoth had glued on his waistcoat, Morrie linked his arm in mine. After a moment of hesitation, Quoth slipped his hand through my other arm and the three of us left our room and descended the stairs.

"We should check in with Jo," Morrie said. "I want to know that Mina's?—"

"There she is!" I pointed over the balustrade, where Mina stood like an enormous white meringue, waving her arms at her mother, who had a box of monogrammed plastic coffee cups and looked terrifyingly pleased with herself.

"We should take the other staircase." Morrie dragged me back. "It's bad luck to?—"

I saw through narrowed, red-filled eyes as Mina collapsed on the floor.