War Of The Four Worlds

by Michael Anderle

  “You know what your problem is, big man?” Trey asked, adjusting his own bow tie. “You don’t wear enough suits in general. I’m always rocking me some nice threads, so this is just taking shit to the next level.”

  The Professor fluffed his lapels, not a hint of red in his cheeks. He’d promised not to have a single drop of alcohol until the reception, although he swore he would have all the alcohol at that point. James’d had the wedding planner order twice as much beer as they had originally figured, just as a precaution.

  “It’s good, lad,” the Professor suggested, “to dress up every now and again. A man can’t always wear jeans and a t-shirt. A certain style and grace can be appealing on a rare occasion.”

  “I think this tie is choking me out,” James complained.

  “The great James Brownstone, ladies and gentlemen,” Trey responded. “The Harriken couldn’t defeat him. The Council couldn’t defeat him. Even motherfucking aliens couldn’t defeat him, but a tie can.” He grinned. “I’ll avenge you, brother. I’ll fucking kill every bowtie left on this planet.”

  “Funny.” James grunted.

  “I know I am.”

  The door opened to reveal Mack and Tyler.

  “That’s a lot of people,” Tyler observed. “Damn, Brownstone, half the freaking underworld bosses in town have come up to me, asking questions about what you think of them. Since when am I your Mob Whisperer?”

  James shrugged. “Do what you normally do. Charge their asses.”

  Tyler rubbed his chin. “You know what? That’s a good idea.”

  Mack closed the door. “I don’t think I’ve ever been to such a huge wedding, even if half the guests are criminals. They are better behaved than most of the guests at my sister’s last wedding.” He nodded at James. “I forgot to tell you. According to the Organized Crime task force and the Gang task force, all crime associated with either major group has dropped to almost nothing over the last couple of weeks. Word is on the street that all the bosses are telling their guys and any gangs they work with to keep everything under control or else, ‘Brownstone will end you and everyone you know.’”

  “That’s not far from the truth,” James rumbled. “But I’m glad I could do something to keep things cleaned up for you guys. I feel lazy sometimes, leaving most of it on the agency.”

  “No, it’s good, but I’m personally thinking about retiring soon,” Mack admitted. “Real retirement, too, not Maria-going-to-work-for-you-style retirement.”

  “You could help me with my restaurant, or is that not retirement enough?” James asked.

  Mack’s eyes widened. “I’ve been thinking about that, and that sounds like a good idea.”

  Trey laughed. “All you old men go off and play at running restaurants. Leave the criminals to us young studs.”

  Mack scoffed. The Professor and Tyler smirked.

  Someone knocked lightly on the door.

  “Yeah?” James called.

  “Mr. Brownstone, we’re ready to get started,” called Mary Winters. She’d gone from simple wedding planner to Shay’s right-hand woman for the entire affair. Coordinating the massive wedding had become a temporary full-time job, complete with multiple assistants.

  The Professor smiled. “Are you ready, lad? This is a big step.”

  “Of all the shit I’ve done, this is the thing that feels the most right,” James replied.

  “Not exactly a Shakespearean sonnet, but romantic in its own way.”

  James headed toward the door. “Time to begin the first day of the rest of my life.”

  James made his way down the red carpet running under the massive shimmering magical field covering the entire area. It wouldn’t protect the wedding against a direct missile strike, but the spell did keep the hot July sun from cooking the guests. Steady light breezes blew with the help of air magic throughout the area, keeping everything comfortable for the guests in their elegant suits and dresses.

  Guess Mary was right about getting those wedding-support witches. Everyone looks fine. Also glad Shay didn’t settle on some of the weirder shit. She seemed really into that flying bouquet idea at first.

  The start of the red carpet lay right next to a side entrance to the mansion. The wedding party had taken their positions there, with the exception of Shay, who had decided at the last moment that she believed in the superstition about the bride not seeing the groom before the wedding. Either that, or she just wanted to screw with James a little. He couldn’t be sure. He never could with her.

  Father McCartney had somehow gotten special dispensation from his bishop for the wedding’s location. James didn’t question the how and why. He was just glad they wouldn’t need to have multiple ceremonies.

  Beautiful dulcet music filled the air, provided by a sixteen-piece orchestra. Shay had originally thought about hiring a full orchestra, but James had managed to talk her down by pointing out the logistical difficulties of adding over a hundred more people to the location.

  Hundreds of chairs, all filled, surrounded him, the guests seated without any concern over if they were a guest of the groom or the bride.

  The different guests represented all the aspects of his life, positive and negative. He passed a grinning Frank Altieri and several of his goons, and the mobster offered him a polite nod.

  Guess Frankie Boy really likes his weddings. I hope he understands there’s no bounty hunter tradition that says I have to grant him a favor just because it’s my wedding day.

  Peyton and his girlfriend sat in the back, also smiling. The bright look on his girlfriend’s face suggested she was getting a few ideas of her own about weddings.

  Heather sat in her wheelchair at the end of the right front row, holding her son’s hand. She’d recently started looking into an experimental spinal cord stimulator—technological, not magical—that might help her walk. James had offered to pay for it, and she was having her first meeting with the doctors in a few weeks.

  A few more steps brought James into a cop-heavy crowd. Lieutenant Weber, along with most of the LAPD AET, was there. Other police officers from LA, Vegas, and Detroit filled the rows ahead. Brownstone Agency bounty hunters, along with a few other selected bounty hunters, were scattered throughout the chairs, though most of the OGs sat closer to the front, along with Kathy and most of James’ non-field personnel. Even Victoria had come down from Vegas for the wedding.

  Charlyce and Nana Garfield sat near the front, Zoe next to them. Senator Johnston and his wife sat close to them, along with several other people from the government. Children from the orphanage and many of the people from the congregation clustered around them as well. He’d never been a man to befriend others from his church, but they all worshipped together. Several of his neighbors, including an ecstatic-looking Mrs. Garth, sat close to them.

  James was surprised by some of the people who were invited and showed up. When Shay had asked him for a list of a “few more people to invite,” he’d thought of Addie Endo, the high-value courier he’d helped a few times. It wasn’t like they were close, but she sat there in a dark-blue dress that contrasted with her pink hair. She grinned merrily and waved at James from the edge of one of the rows.

  Dannec was only a few seats down from her. James hadn’t been sure whether to invite him, but the elf’s help had been critical to James’ victories on more than one occasion, including supplying necessary magical items for James’ use against the Council and the Drow. Maybe they weren’t friends, but it didn’t hurt to show the man a little respect by inviting him.

  James passed Lily and her friends, the former homeless tunnel rats now all wearing expensive clothes. James was surprised that Lily hadn’t been one of the bridesmaids, but Shay explained to him that the girl hadn’t been comfortable with the idea. She had adjusted to life as a tomb raider, but she was still finding her feet in normal society.

  James held back a smirk as he passed Yev, the Oriceran Consul for Los Angeles. He didn’t like the man after the way he had participated, ev
en indirectly, in the Drow legal plots against James and Alison, but since he was inviting the criminal gangs to remind them who he was, it didn’t hurt to invite a few high-ranking Oricerans to remind them as well.

  The Granite Ghost might be getting married, but he was still the Granite Ghost.

  The unpleasantness of James’ political enemies was offset by all the pitmasters present, including Mike and Michael from Jessie Rae’s. They were helping with the food, too, but he wanted it clear they weren’t just caterers. They were honored guests.

  James approached the small altar set up at the front of the red carpet near a cliff overlooking the ocean. Seagulls and other ocean birds soared in the distance as a light breeze filled his nostrils with the salty scent of the water.

  Father McCartney stood there with a delighted smile on his face. James moved into position and offered a nod to the priest.

  The Professor appeared next and joined the groom. Trey escorted Kara up the red carpet, Mack followed with Janelle, and Tyler arrived with Bella. Alison finished the procession by herself. She had volunteered to walk by herself in honor of Shorty.

  The bridesmaids all wore lavender gowns that were flattering to the beautiful women and teen. Shay wasn’t a believer in her friends having to wear ugly dresses to make her stand out. James wasn’t sure whether that was a testament to her loyalty or her complete confidence in her own beauty.

  Maria appeared next, a hungry smile on her face as she headed down the carpet, her gaze fixed on Tyler.

  Another woman thinking this is a good idea. Sorry, Tyler, you better give up and start planning now.

  A huge grin broke across James’ face as Thomas padded up the carpet next, the handle of a wicker basket containing the rings on black velvet clutched in his jaws. The crowd produced a chorus of oohs and ahs as the dog carried the rings to the Professor.

  I’m glad I convinced Shay to allow this. Way better than a kid doing it.

  The Professor knelt, took the basket, and ruffled the dog’s ears. Thomas barked once and bounded back down the carpet, just like they had practiced. The crowd laughed.

  Thomas disappeared back into the mansion.

  The orchestra changed songs, but they didn’t play Here Comes the Bride. Instead, a jaunty flute-heavy piece followed. It was reminiscent of something James might expect from Greek folk music, but Shay explained it was specifically Cappadocian Greek. She’d gotten the idea after recovering an artifact from the ruins of an old Cappadocian city.

  James didn’t care. He didn’t have any strong preferences when it came to music.

  Shay appeared from the mansion clad in a voluminous gown and veil, so elaborate magic had to be involved, much like with her bouquet. It might not be flying, but it was still obviously the product of enchantment.

  The bride clutched the glowing flowers, each cycling through different colors. She made her way down the aisle by herself. Her past was gone, dead along with her past identity and any connection to her worthless parents. The only thing important now was her future.

  The music stopped as Shay stepped up to the priest and James. She pulled back her veil and smiled at James.

  Father McCartney brought his hand to his mouth and coughed, then began, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of friends, family, and God, to witness the joining of James Brownstone and Shay Carson in holy matrimony.”

  James stared into Shay’s dark eyes, his priest’s words growing distant and indistinct. As much as he respected Father McCartney, he didn’t need pretty words to understand how he felt. He loved Shay, and she completed him. That was enough.

  He managed the appropriate nods and verbal agreements as the priest launched into a series of questions. Something about love. Something about honoring the church.

  Wait. I need to pay attention. The vows are coming.

  The Professor handed James and Shay rings.

  “Please repeat after me,” Father McCartney intoned. “I, James Brownstone, take you, Shay Carson, for my lawful wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death us do part.”

  James repeated the vows as he slipped the wedding ring over Shay’s finger. The jeweler he’d hired had been shocked by his desire to cut down a “perfectly good diamond.” James had it checked to ensure it wasn’t magical, but in the end, the lele had given him a large and expensive but mundane gemstone.

  “And you, Shay,” Father McCartney insisted.

  “I, Shay Carson, take you, James Brownstone, for my lawful husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death us do part.”

  Shay slipped James’ wedding band over his finger.

  “Then by the power invested me by the Church and the state of California, I now pronounce you man and wife,” Father McCartney announced, beaming with happiness.

  A raucous cheer rose from the army of wedding guests. Among others, Nana Garfield clapped and teared up.

  “You may now kiss the bride,” Father McCartney added.

  James pulled Shay against him and attacked her mouth with all the hunger he felt.

  James couldn’t help but stare at his new wife. They sat together at a table, along with the Professor, Maria, Tyler, Alison, and Father McCartney. A maze of white-linen-covered wooden tables filled the vast lawn in front of the mansion, expensive magic still protecting the guests. Light orbs surrounded the tables and pushed back the early evening darkness.

  The time since the vows had passed in a blur of smiles, backslaps, handshakes, and congratulations. They were supposed to be eating now, but even though the most glorious tray of ribs slathered in God Sauce sat in front of James, he didn’t care about barbeque. It turned out there were a few things he cared more about than grilled and sauced meat.

  The only person with a wider grin at the table was Alison, who kept giggling. “Now you can’t complain about me calling you mom, Mom.”

  Shay laughed. “You got me there. Just so you know, I’m also going to do the formal paperwork to adopt you. I don’t just want to be your stepmother. I want to be your mother.”

  Alison threw her arms around Shay’s neck and hugged her tightly.

  Warmth spread through James. A few years prior he had met Alison by chance when she returned his dog. He had never expected to grow to love her as a daughter, nor the strong-willed but caustic woman who had become his wife.

  Thank you, God, for all that you’ve given me. I know I’ve not always been the best man, but I’ve tried my best.

  Senator Johnston made his way up to the table. “Sorry to bother you while you’re eating, son, but I figured it was a good time for my gift.”

  “Gift?” James blinked a few times. “No one needed to bring any gifts. We said that in the invitations.”

  The old man laughed. “I’m too old-fashioned. There’s no way I’m going to come to a wedding without a gift. Besides, I already cleared it with your bride.”

  James looked at Shay, and she smiled at him and shrugged. “I know you said you didn’t care about gifts, but I asked a couple of the guests to kick in on the entertainment.”

  Senator Johnston patted James on the shoulder. “Congratulations again, son. You’ll enjoy being married. I know I have, and I’ve been married longer than you’ve been alive.” He headed back to his table.

  A few elves in powder-blue leisure suits walked toward a portable stage set up a few yards away from James’ and Shay’s table. A lumbering Kilomea joined them.

  “Who are they?” James rumbled.

  “Oriceran cover band,” Shay announced.

  “Seriously?”

  A rumble sounded in the distance, and James frowned and looked around. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, so he didn’t understand how there could be a storm.

  If some wizard fucks up my wedding, I’ll go Modified Forerunner on his ass.

  Shay grinned. “Yep. Well
, don’t know if they count as a band since they use magic instead of instruments, but same idea. Needed a little fun for the reception. They have some spells to prep while the initial entertainment happens.” She nodded at the Professor.

  The best man stood, already red-faced from the four beers he’d pounded. He tugged slightly on his bowtie, and it glowed. “Ladies and gentleman,” he began, his voice coming from all around.

  Magic megaphone bowtie? Now I’ve seen everything.

  “The new Mrs. Carson-Brownstone turned down my idea for a dirty limerick contest in the middle of the wedding,” the Professor explained with a grin. “Absolutely no sense of humor, but before I bore you with a speech about the greatness of the new couple, there are several different people who wanted to pay their respects.”

  The rumble built and everyone looked around, a few nervously. The Professor’s smile grew only wider, as did the one on Senator Johnston, who stood nearby.

  What did you plan?

  “Everyone knows how much bounty work James has performed,” the Professor observed. “But that often conceals how he’s helped defend his country. Some of the targets he’s taken down, well, some of you wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if you knew what had been out there. The military has worked side by side with the good lad, and with the help of Senator Johnston, the United States Air Force has a little demonstration for us to pay him back for all that.”

  The rumble became a roar as six fighter planes approached in rapid formation. State-of-the-art F-55s broke apart and released trails of red, white, and blue smoke, their adjustable vector thrust nozzles allowing them to bank and turn so abruptly it almost seemed like magic.

  An air show at my wedding? Shit. Nice.

  While that was a miracle of technology, James suspected the diffuse glow surrounding the planes and making them so visible at night was the product of actual magic—not that he was going to complain.

  James might not have liked flying, but he didn’t mind watching it. He grinned at Shay as one of the fighters barrel-rolled.