43. Ding, Dong, the Wicche Is Dead!

The vamp at the gate who witnessed my awkward landing turned back to his guard duty with nary a sneer. Huh. You know what? I'll take it. No sneering was a huge improvement. When I reached the front door, it was opened before I could touch the knob. The butler waited, face blank, for me to pass and then shut the door and disappeared down the hall. Okay, now they were freaking me out.

I ran up the stairs, wanting to check on Clive before I found someone to give me a better update than ‘he's fine.' When I got to the third-floor landing, I saw Russell standing guard at the bedroom door.

"Everything okay?" If the vamps were back under Clive's influence, why the need for a guard?

"Good evening, Miss Quinn. Yes, the Master is well, just resting. He was inquiring after your whereabouts. Please, go in. I'm sure he'd like to speak with you." His tone was even more formal than usual.

When I opened my mouth to ask a question, he gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head and opened the door for me. Trying to follow his lead, I said, "Thank you for your help, Russell. We do have a lot to discuss."

He patted my shoulder as I walked by. As Russell wasn't given to gestures of affection, I worried I was about to find Clive in far more dire straits than I'd been prepared for.

Instead, he was sitting on the couch, feet on the coffee table crossed at the ankles, an open book in his lap, eyes closed. "Hey, handsome. How was your night?" I said in a normal voice as I hurried across the room to kiss him, laugh at something he said, and then close the drapes behind him.

I was ten steps behind but understood we were pretending that Clive was up and everything was normal. Sitting beside him, I took the book in his lap, moved it to the table, and then took his hand in mine. His skin was colder than normal, but I felt the buzz of his lifeforce, so I didn't panic. Much.

Closing my eyes, I searched for vamps. The nocturne was full…except for Godfrey. Where—oh, he was returning frat boys to a party. I wrapped myself around Clive's blip. Hello, love. Can you hear me? I didn't want to delve into his mind. It was too invasive for someone I loved. Are you okay?

He squeezed my hand—barely—but again, I'd take it. I rested my head on his shoulder. News of the night could wait. He needed to recover.

When I felt him sink more deeply into sleep, I got up and took a shower. Clean and dressed in my softest pjs, I went back to the couch, picked up Clive, and carried him to the bed. Werewolf strength came in quite handy.

Undressing him first, I slid him into our bed and then hopped over him to snuggle at his side. With any luck, he'd wake tomorrow and we'd share our news. I wasn't sure what excuse we could make if he needed another day to recover. One crisis at a time, though.

Exhausted, I wrapped my arms around him and dropped off almost at once. My dreams were filled with memories from my childhood, memories I'd thought lost forever. My mother and me singing in the car, our sparse belongings in the trunk and backseat as we moved yet again.

She did everything she could to make our lives as normal as possible, but we moved constantly. When we were lucky, we were able to stay one place for four months, maybe even six. Sometimes, though, we were back in the car only a few days after we'd moved in.

My mother used a scrying mirror to keep tabs on her sister. When she was getting too close, off we went. She could use any reflective surface to do it, but when I was eight or nine, I found the perfect mirror. We'd been shopping in a thrift store for a new pair of jeans for me—I'd had another growth spurt—when I saw an antique dresser set. The silver was tarnished, but the etchings on the mirror, brush, and comb felt special. I didn't understand what it was about the set, but I asked my mother to buy it.

The lady in the shop said she'd recently picked it up from an estate sale. It was pretty pricey for us, as we lived on the cheap, but the lady threw in a silver polishing kit. Later, as Mom drove, I polished.

Mom began using that mirror exclusively when scrying. She said it was more powerful, that it had retained some magic from its previous owner, who she believed was some type of fae. Perhaps even then, something about the fae drew me. I had no idea what had happened to the set. Probably burned like the rest of our belongings in that…

Wait. There'd been no fire. After Abigail and her demon had left that day, I'd called the police, told them I'd come home to find my mother dead and that poor homeless man covered in her blood. He hadn't survived the demon's possession. I'd heard one of the EMTs say heart attack.

I didn't want to remember losing her, living it all over again.

Pushing my mind in a different direction, I remembered ice cream cones. No matter where we were or how broke we were, Mom always scraped together the money for ice cream. She'd stop the car at an interesting-looking shop. We'd hop out, pick our flavors—they changed every time— and then we'd take our cones and walk around the neighborhood, discussing whether we should look for a vacancy or move on.

I awoke to Clive rolling me over and gazing down at me, his eyes alight with humor. "Ice cream? You dream about ice cream? How did I not know that?"

I put one hand over my mouth and the other on the side of his face. "You're okay?"

"I am." He kissed the back of my hand. "What are you doing?"

"I need to brush my teeth," I mumbled behind my hand.

"Ah." He rolled off me and flipped the comforter back. "Get to it then."

I bolted into the bathroom and took care of a number of things. A few minutes later, I was crawling back into bed and on top of Clive. Resting my chin on my hands, I settled in for story time. "Tell me what I missed."

"It went as planned." A corner of his mouth tilted up. "Russell and I agreed it was best you weren't there."

"Hey." I mean, he was right. The vamps neither needed nor wanted a random wolf in their midst, but he could have prettied it up a little.

Leaning forward, he dropped a kiss on my forehead. "It was a night filled with fangs and blood. You probably would have been too nauseated to stay."

"Yeah, there's that. The frat boys were okay, though, right?"

"No worse than they were at the beginning of the evening. Godfrey left them with money in their pockets and bottles of orange juice in their hands." His fingers kneaded the muscles in my shoulders. He knew where I held tension.

"Does the nocturne feel different? Did it work?" Hopefully, it wasn't a huge waste of time and blood.

He rolled me over and kissed me deeply, scattering thoughts and questions. When he finally drew back, he said, "My beautiful mate is also brilliant. Yes, renewing the blood bond eradicated the poisonous voices some of my people have been dealing with."

"No more Leticia screwing with your people and no more Abigail screwing with mine. Huzzah! We should celebrate." I wrapped my legs around him.

"No Abigail?" Brow furrowed, his gaze was intent on me. "What did I miss?"

I relayed the events of the previous evening, my heart filling with joy at the thought of reopening my Slaughtered Lamb.

Clive slid to the side, his hand on my abdomen. "Your ribs?"

"Still sore, but they healed while we slept." I had to admit, it was ouchie having him on top of me, but I preferred the pain to his absence.

"You know what this means, don't you?" He grinned, the weight of the world lifting from his shoulders.

Heart fluttering, I said, "Slaughtered Lamb," at the same time he said, "A wedding." I pivoted, cringing. "I mean, a wedding!"

Rolling his eyes, he propped his head on his hand and looked down at me. "You do still want a wedding, right?"

"Marriage? Yes. A fancy wedding in a big dress with lots of people staring and judging? Not so much."

"All right. I can work with that. How about an intimate gathering of friends?"

That might be nice. Just Owen and George, Dave and Maggie, Russell, Godfrey, maybe Audrey and Meg. Stheno was still in town…

"Tonight."

It took me a minute. "Tonight? This night, tonight? As in now?"

"Are you busy?"

My mind went blank. Completely blank. "Now?"

"Look at the terror in your eyes. I doubt you were this scared dealing with your aunt last night. Come on." He dragged me from the bed, my limbs not working. He got me to my feet, but when I started to drop back down to the bed, he picked me up and walked me across the bedroom.

Married. Tonight. I struggled to breathe properly. Now. I was getting married now.

He placed me back on the floor but kept his arms around me. "What do you think?" There was a dress hanging under a light, positively glowing in the closet.

"Oh." When I moved toward it, he let go and followed me. It was stunning. The top was a delicate white flowery lace. It reminded me of the meadow blanketed in wildflowers in Faerie. The handwork was so fine, I hesitated to touch it. Tiny pearls were sewn into the flowers. It had a crew neck and long, tapered sleeves.

At the waist, the lace dropped to the floor in an airy overskirt that was open at the front revealing a slim, form-fitting, white silk underskirt beneath. White silk slingback heels stood on the floor beneath the dress.

His arms slid around me again as he kissed my neck. "Well?"

"I'm afraid to touch it." I'd never seen a more exquisite garment in my life. I put my trembling hands over his. "You're sure?"

Holding me tight, he kissed the shell of my ear. "I've never been more sure of anything in my very long and storied life."

And just like that, my stomach settled. The ceremony made me nervous. Spending the rest of my life with Clive at my side? It was all I wanted. "I was thinking."

"Hmm?"

"We should probably get married tonight." When he picked me up and spun me around, I giggled uncontrollably. Gasping, I asked, "Is there time to put it all together?"

"Leave it to me," he said, sailing out of the closet. "We'll aim for two o'clock."

"You'll need pants," I called.

The bedroom door he'd just opened was closed abruptly. "I will, won't I?"