32. Mina

Hayes had me change out of my ruined wedding dress so they could run forensics on it. Wilson brought me her gym clothes to change into, and once I was no longer bloody and had been checked over by the paramedics and pronounced fine, I sat on a bench in the graveyard and gave Hayes a rundown of everything that happened on the church roof.

Well, mostly everything. I left out the bit about flying with Quoth, and told Hayes that he'd helped me back down the stairs. If Hayes or anyone else had seen a long-haired guy with human-sized raven wings rescue me from midair, then they were keeping it to themselves.

We pieced the whole story together, how Brenda Winstone had seen my wedding announcement in the paper that she'd been allowed to read at the Crixley Institution, how she'd escaped and used her knowledge of Lachlan Hall from when she was friends with Cynthia to hide out on the estate and infiltrate the staff. How she'd tried to frame Heathcliff for Iwan's murder, but when that didn't work, she'd decided to kidnap me after the ceremony. How James Pond's activities had confused Heathcliff, Morrie, and Quoth into thinking all the incidents were related. How Morrie had checked out all the criminals I'd put behind bars but had forgotten about Brenda because she'd gone to Crixley instead of prison.

"I'm so sorry, Mina." Hayes put away his notepad. He sounded sad. "I failed in my job to protect you."

"It's really okay."

"It's not. I know that we haven't always agreed with the way you've inserted yourself into police business, but I want you to know that I admire the way you stick up for people and try to see every side of a story. You know, if you ever get tired of being a bookstore owner, you'd make a great private detective."

I beamed. "Thanks. That means a lot."

"Don't tell DS Wilson I said that."

"I heard my name." Wilson approached us. "Are you finished with Mina now?"

Hayes patted my knee. "I think that I've got everything I need. You're a free woman now, unlike Brenda Winstone, who won't have such lax security around her again. When we took her away, she was yelling about she pushed you off the roof and a giant bird man saved you. She's even more disturbed than we thought."

"Thank you, Inspector." I stood up, clutching Oscar's harness. My weary bones were ready to return home to Nevermore and have a long shower.

"Not so fast, Wilde," Wilson hissed.

"But Inspector Hayes said he was finished with me?—"

"He may be, but I've been sent with rather specific instructions to get you to the Rose Wimple for your wedding."

Perplexed, I allowed Wilson to slip her arm through mine. I noticed that we took the backstreets, walking briskly past Maisie's house and around the corner to arrive at the pub via the back entrance near the old stables, instead of the much quicker route across the village green.

Wilson bustled me upstairs to where Jo and Bree were practically bouncing off the walls of a small hallway, still wearing their bridesmaid's dresses, which miraculously seemed to have survived the carnage, although I couldn't see them well enough to judge.

"We're here to get you dressed," Bree announced proudly.

"But I don't understand. My wedding dress was ruined?—"

"Come on." Jo grabbed my hand and yanked me inside. "You're not going to believe this."

They herded me into the tiny hotel room. All the lights were on, and a couple of extra lamps had been brought in to help me see. I could make out the shape of a dressmakers' form in the middle of the room, and someone was hunched over it. A familiar voice grumbled about poor materials and tight deadlines.

A voice I never thought I'd hear again.

Marcus Ribald.

The infamous New York designer who'd fired me from my internship after my friend Ashley told him about my retinitis pigmentosa diagnosis.

What is he doing here?

"Mina?" Jo squeezed my arm. "Are you okay? You've gone all pale."

"Mina, there you are!" The figure barrelled toward me, and Marcus leaned in to plant a customary air kiss on each cheek. I was too stunned to move. "The bride herself arrives, and just in time, for I am putting the finishing touches on your dress."

"My…dress?"

He took my hand and guided me towards the dressmakers' form. "Mina, I know you're a little surprised to see me. The truth is, I'm a little surprised to be here myself."

"But…but…but…how?"

"I was on the way to Crookshollow for a meeting about an upcoming fashion exhibition when my car was nudged off the road and my driver directed to walk back to civilization. Your fiancé slid into the driver's seat, introduced himself as James Moriarty, and explained that we were taking a detour so I could help you with your wedding dress."

"He…what?" I couldn't comprehend this.

Did Marcus Ribald just save my wedding dress?

Did Hayes lie to me about taking it for evidence collection?

"Morrie and I have become fast friends in that short but terrifying drive." Marcus' voice trembled a little. Ah yes, being Morrie's ‘friend' can be a dangerous business. "He's made me see that I was wrong to let you go from the internship. You had so much talent, but I've seen this business chew up hundreds of talented people and spit them out again, and none of them had your disability to contend with. I didn't think that you would be able to handle the workload."

"I would have liked the chance to sink or swim on my own merits," I said. Jo squeezed my hand.

"I should have given you that chance. I am truly sorry."

This was surreal. All the nights I'd spent crying over what this man did, how he'd chosen me from hundreds of applicants because of my talent and then dismissed me without a thought once he found out that I was less than. And now he was here, and I had dreamed of all the things I wanted to say to him.

But I didn't. I didn't want to yell at him or make him pay any more than Morrie had already done. I felt…calm.

You're the one who lost out, Marcus. Not me.

Marcus squeezed my upper arm. "If you decide to continue in fashion, I'd love to have you back."

I beamed. "Thanks, but I'm actually pretty happy with how everything turned out."

"Oh, that's good," he sounded relieved. "Morrie will be so pleased to hear that. Now, shall I take your hand and show you your dress?"

I nodded. Marcus placed his hand over mine and ran my fingers over the garment.

"This particular challenge tested all of my skills. The hem was ruined, there was an enormous hole singed through every layer of the skirt, and there were a few unsightly duck-related stains, so I've done a quick dye job, raised the hemline, and given the corset a bit of heavy metal bling, and I think with the red Docs your friends insist that you want to wear—" I couldn't tell if his tone is admiring or derisive "—I think this will work. That police officer even rescued your veil from the churchyard, so I've dyed that to match. I know if anyone can pull off a black wedding dress, it's Mina Wilde."

"Damn right," Bree said. "Mina, you were born to wear this dress."

I ran my hands over the skirt, admiring the way Marcus had transformed the ragged destruction of the fire into a feature of the dress. The skirt now hung in different length panels, the ends rough and frayed and completely punk rock. He'd added spikes and studs to the corset and made matching wrist cuffs.

This dress was something that Amy Lee or Simone Simons would wear in a music video.

This was why Marcus Ribald was a fashion genius.

A lump formed in my throat.

"I love it."

"As well you should." Marcus leaned in and kissed both my cheeks. "Now put it on and get out there before your fiancé comes back and makes good on one of his creative threats."

Grinning, I kissed Marcus back. He slunk out of the room, closing the door behind him. I practically danced out of my clothes, and Jo and Bree laced me back into my corset. I couldn't stop touching all the spikes and studs, and the cool ragged hem. This dress was so much more me than the poofy white princess one I had before.

"I can't wait for you to see what else the guys have done," Bree said as she laced up my scuffed old red Docs. "I don't know how they pulled this off in a couple of hours."

"I do." Jo's voice choked up. "There's nothing those men won't do for you, Mina."

They finished lacing me up, then Jo went to work on my makeup, wiping off the glam look that Cynthia's artist had given me that morning and replacing it with heavy eyeliner, deep red lips, and sparkles from my own stash. Bree pulled my hair back and affixed my black veil with a comb that Marcus had done up with more spikes and studs.

"You're all ready to go," Jo stood back. "Now we just have to wait for?—"

A knock pounded at the door.

"There she is. Smiles on, ladies!"

"Mina, there you are!" Mum burst into the room. "We have to get your downstairs—Oh, no, what happened to your beautiful dress?"

"Hey, Mum." I did a twirl. "Don't you love it?"

"I suppose it will have to do." She leaned in and kissed my cheek. "You look like you're going to marry a vampire, but you also look beautiful."

"Thanks, Mum." A rush of love for her coursed through my body. Mum drove me crazy, but she also raised me all by herself, and even when she didn't understand me, she always supported me and made sure I was surrounded by love. "Will you walk me down the aisle? I know I said before that I wanted to walk by myself, but I changed my mind. I don't even know if there is an aisle, but…"

"I'd be honored, darling." Mum's voice cracked. "And of course there's an aisle. Your boys have outdone themselves. We have to go! Everyone has gathered!"

"Wait, my bridesmaids!"

"We're ready." Jo gave her lips a final swipe with my lipstick and smoothed down the front of her dress (which upon closer inspection I realized had also got the Marcus Ribald treatment – it was now artfully slashed and studded). Bree stuffed a package of tissues into her bra and waved goodbye to the ghost of an old publican who was apparently in the corner of the room, and we lined up and snapped a quick selfie.

Mum slid her arm in mine and practically dragged me and Oscar down the narrow steps and around the side of the pub. Dusk was starting to fall, the lack of light making my vision worse than usual. Luckily, my dress no longer dragged on the ground for me to trip over. As we neared the village green, I heard the distinct sounds of people shuffling around and a cello quartet warming up their instruments.

Maisie ran over, and Mum told her that we were in position. A moment later, the music changed to my entrance song. I gripped Mum's arm as we wandered a little around the corner and Jo and Bree prepared to start their slow walk across…

I blinked as I saw the village green. "Oh, wow, it's beautiful."

Jo's arm went around my neck, and she pulled me close. "You're a lucky woman, Mina Wilde. If I was into dick, I'd be insanely jealous."

The entire green was lit up with strings of fairy lights. Every shop window, every park bench, street lamp, and every outdoor table at the Rose Wimple had been outlined with twinkling lights. In the center, an archway made of bright-coloured Chinese lanterns stole the show. Everywhere I looked, my eyes delighted in the colors and sparkles. It was like a secret, magical world that only I appreciated.

Jo and Bree set off on their cue, their dresses sweeping through the grass, making the crowd ooh with appreciation for Marcus' handiwork.

"How did they…"

"Heathcliff went around to every person in the village and demanded they hand over their fairy lights. Remember that fairy light store in Grimdale that went out of business last year and had that half-off sale that caused the dual carriageway to be blocked for six hours? Well, because of that, everyone had dozens of strings gathering dust in their cupboards, and no one says no to Heathcliff when he looks at you like that. So lights were brought and Quoth took the lanterns left over from the Chinese Lantern festival and arranged everything."

Oh, Quoth.

Of course he did this. It had all been done with an artist's eye. As I clutched my mum's arm, my eyes roamed over every building around the square, their edges, doors, windows and posts all marked out with rows of twinkling lights. For tonight, I could see the village again, only now it was more magical than ever.

"Are you ready?" Mum squeezed my hand, her voice husky with emotion.

"Mum, are you crying?"

"I just want you to know that I'm so proud of you." Her words stuck in her throat as she struggled to hold herself together. "Not just because you're getting married, but because of everything that you've achieved. When you came back from New York with your diagnosis, I didn't know what to do. I was so afraid for you. But I should have known that you'd land on your feet. You're always so creative and resourceful."

I beamed as my own throat choked up. "I wonder where I get that from?"

"Well, your father was a poet?—"

"No, Mum, I got it from you, the creative, ambitious, infuriating woman who raised me." I wrapped my arms around her. "There's something I want you to know, too. I'm proud to be your daughter."

"Oh, Mina."

The music swelled again, signaling my cue. With Mum clutching one arm and Oscar tugging gently on his harness in the other, I took my first step down the aisle.