Gods & Monsters

by Shelby Mahurin

  With a smirk, Beau straightened his jacket and smoothed his immaculate waves. “Finally.” He clasped Reid’s shoulder before turning on his heel. “My moment to shine.”

  Snorting, Coco rolled her eyes and said, “No one will be looking at you.”

  He arched a wicked brow. “You will be.”

  She lifted a casual shoulder, speaking over it as she strode back up the aisle. “We’ll see.”

  “Yes, we—” He skidded to a halt in his pursuit of her, his eyes falling on Jean Luc. The spray on the latter’s chair had loosened, and he was attempting to reattach it. “Honestly, Jean, what did I tell you? We want it to appear artfully strewn, as if the daisies sprang up from this very chair. You’re tacking them on too neatly.” When Jean Luc scowled, unimpressed, Beau elbowed him aside to do it himself. “Like tits on a boar.”

  “Careful, Your Majesty.” With a wry grin, Jean Luc tossed a handful of fallen edelweiss at his head. The King of Belterra lurched away with a violent curse, finger combing his hair frantically. “You’ll muss those luscious locks.”

  “I will kill you—”

  Coco caught his hand and dragged him up the aisle before they could brawl. Grinning despite myself, I followed them around the bend, where Lou stood out of sight with Madame Labelle, Célie, and Manon. Beau shook his head when he saw her, whistling low and appreciative. “Reid is going to lose his mind.”

  Lou winked and shimmied her shoulders. “That’s the plan.”

  Madame Labelle fixed one of her soon-to-be daughter’s curls, arranging it artfully around Lou’s freckled cheek. “You look beautiful, fille. I shall see you soon. Come.” She motioned for Célie and Manon to join her, leaving Lou, Coco, Beau, and me alone in the shadow of a withered pear tree. The only one that’d survived. When Reid had suggested holding the festivities here, Madame Labelle had protested, explaining again how Morgane had torched these trees in a fit of rage. Reid knew that, of course. He knew how love could twist even the most beautiful of people, of places, into cruel and dark things. He also knew how special this grove had once been to his mother—to all the Dames Blanches.

  Lou had agreed, and together, they’d made it beautiful once more.

  When Coco extended the sunflower bouquet, Lou’s grin dimmed slightly. Her finger traced the curve of the frame. “Do you think he’s watching?”

  Coco looped an arm through hers. “I think he wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

  “He should’ve been here. He should’ve given me away too.”

  Beau claimed Lou’s other arm, tapping my face in the frame. “He still is.”

  “I still am,” I whispered with a smile. In response, a soft breeze rustled the branches overhead, bringing with it a pleasant warmth, a low hum of bees, a faint scent of daffodils. Of new beginnings.

  I walked beside them as they led Lou up the aisle.

  Though Claud had gone, his empty seat remained next to mine, and Seraphine crooned a lovely ballad of love lost and love found while Reid waited beneath the arbor. Madame Labelle stood beside him, the handfasting ribbons woven between her fingers. She winked at Father Achille in the audience.

  Beau cleared his throat, and every person—every human, witch, werewolf, and mermaid—turned as one to look at us. To look at Lou. Her breath caught in her throat, and her hands tightened instinctively on Coco and Beau. “Breathe, sister mine,” the latter murmured. “Just breathe.”

  “Go on, Lou.” Though she couldn’t see me, couldn’t hear me, I spoke the words regardless, pushing her forward gently. “Find peace.”

  She seemed to relax at the warm touch of wind on her face.

  Then her eyes found Reid, and the entire world faded to that blinding, soul-deep connection. Anyone could see it. Everyone could feel it. If I reached out a hand now, I sensed I could’ve touched it. Though I knew not of magic patterns, this thread that connected Lou and Reid—this gravitational pull, this cosmic one—it was a magic in itself. It pulled them together. It would keep them there.

  He gazed at her with the most brilliant, devastating smile.

  She blinked at the sight of it, her own slightly dazed, slightly awed, as Reid took in her ivory gown, her trailing sleeves, the rich flowers atop her long, loose hair. The scarred roses at her throat. Summer sun had gilded her skin once more. It burnished the freckles across her nose. When he stepped forward to take her hand, he brushed his lips across them, trying to kiss each one. “See something you like?” he murmured in her ear.

  She eyed him appreciatively. “Let’s make this quick.”

  Their vows were not traditional. Not this time. Nor was their ceremony. It ended just as the sun touched the mountains, its golden light lengthening the shadows of the grove. Fireflies winked into existence. Ever curious, feu follet soon followed, their eerie glow lighting a path through the gnarled trees. Twice, Beau snatched an inquisitive Gabrielle away from them, much to her indignation. “You rotten brother! I just want to see them!”

  Her protests could barely be heard over the music.

  Several more witches had trekked from the castle with mandolins, lutes, and lyres underarm. Others had brought wine. Indeed, most who’d remained at Chateau le Blanc gathered in the grove now, curious and wary. Though they gave Jean Luc and Father Achille a wide berth—and Elvire and Blaise too—no one lifted a hand against them. Toulouse even managed to charm a pretty young witch into dancing with him. Another asked Liana for a turn.

  It took little for the rest to follow.

  Except for Lasimonne, who—with a cry of “It has four legs!”—chased after Melisandre with abject fascination. The cat hissed and yowled and streaked toward the safety of the castle. With the roll of her eyes, Elvire continued to examine the flowers, taking a tentative bite of a peony. Pan swatted her hand away in horror. “No,” he said sternly, wagging his finger. “Absolutely not, ma douce. You come to Cesarine, and I will bake you something sweet, yes?”

  Turning away, I watched Coco and Beau dance for one long, bittersweet moment. He said something to make her laugh—really laugh, the sort of laugh that transformed her entire face. The sound of it made him giddy. He twirled her closer next time, his attention rapt on her expression. Drinking in the sight. “I could do more than sail at the age of three,” he told her imperiously. “Sir D’artagnan Delmore le Devere taught me to dance as soon as I could walk.”

  Unfortunately, he chose that moment to spin directly into Jean Luc and Célie. Jean Luc compensated seamlessly, twirling Célie outward with one hand while catching Coco’s waist with the other. Beau, who’d slipped on impact, reeled into a stump and nearly lost his footing. Jean Luc smirked. “Sir D’artagnan Delmore le Devere is my godfather, Your Majesty.”

  Coco howled with laughter.

  I hoped she never stopped laughing.

  At the center of it all, Lou and Reid whirled with flushed cheeks and bright eyes. When she stepped on his toes for the third time—tipsy with drink—he swept her up in his arms and spun wildly, round and round until Lou shrieked with delight, tipping her head and urging him faster. He never lost his footing. He never loosened his grip.

  He even joined her when she belted out “Big Titty Liddy.” Though both sang horribly off-key, all applauded their efforts when they’d finished, and Lou swept into a dramatic bow. Cheeks red, Reid chuckled and tried to move away—out of the limelight—but Lou pulled him back. “Wasn’t he marvelous?” She crowed the words with pride, cackling as his flush deepened. Madame Labelle whistled from Father Achille’s arm. “Everyone tell him how marvelous he is. Tell him how impressive.”

  Shaking his head, he tucked her firmly into his side and dragged her toward the nearest stump. “You’re embarrassing me, wife.”

  “Look how red your face is.” She cackled and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Just wait until the honeymoon—those few blissful days where I’ll have you all to myself.”

  Reid smirked. “I’ll believe it when I see it. Your sisters can’t leave you alone for more than
an hour.”

  “That’s why we’re leaving the Chateau.”

  He raised a brow. “Oh?”

  “Oh,” she confirmed, matter-of-fact. “There’s an old cottage on the beach. It belonged to my grandmother. I’ve cleaned it out for the two of us.” She nuzzled his chest, much like her cat. “Coco can handle the castle without me.”

  Reid shrugged, the corner of his mouth still quirked. “You’re probably right. She’s much more diplomatic.”

  “Excuse you.” Lou elbowed him in the ribs in feigned outrage, raising her voice for the others to hear. “Should I tell them about your impressive foot size? What about those other marvelous things you can do with your tongue?”

  Reid actually clapped a hand over her mouth.

  Shoulders shaking, the two devolved into laughter as a wizened old woman hobbled into the grove.

  I didn’t recognize her, but the others clearly did: Lou and Reid straightened, Coco and Beau stilled, and even Célie stepped closer to Jean Luc. Though none appeared outright alarmed, a definite current of tension had materialized with the woman. Curiously enough, Zenna smiled.

  “Hello, dearies!” Bracelets clinked on the woman’s wrist as she waved gaily, heedless of her less-than-warm reception. Her scarlet robes billowed around her. “What a sublime evening for a wedding. And truly, you could not have chosen a more fortuitous locale.”

  “Madame Sauvage.” Reid cast a quick, nervous glance toward Coco, Beau, and Célie. His next word sounded a question. “Welcome.”

  Lou’s eyes narrowed. “How did you find this place?”

  “Ah.” Madame Sauvage clasped Lou’s hands in her own, pressing a kiss to them. “Felicitations, my dear, on your recent nuptials. It seems I missed quite a delightful evening, and you, in turn, missed my winsome company.” Her clouded eyes lingered on the witch with the mandolin. “I trust you provided the correct designation this time? None of this Larue business?”

  Lou’s frown deepened, but she didn’t pull her hands away. “How do you know about that?”

  Madame Sauvage ignored the question, instead turning to Reid. She pinched his cheek. “And you, young man? Did you plant those seeds as you promised?”

  “I”—he looked again to Lou, more panicked now than before—“I’m sorry, Madame Sauvage, but I—I misplaced them.”

  “You lost them, you mean?” When Reid nodded, she clicked her tongue in disappointment. I inched closer, studying her face. She seemed . . . familiar, somehow. Like I’d met her before. And her disappointment—I glanced around, uncertain—it felt staged. Zenna still smiled behind us, and that smile had spread to Seraphine, Toulouse, and Thierry. Madame Sauvage winked at them. “Well, Monsieur le Blanc, just how should we proceed? We made a bargain, you remember.”

  Reid nodded grimly. “I’ll procure another pearl for you, madame. I promise.”

  “You promised”—Madame Sauvage unfurled her fingers slowly, revealing a handful of seeds in her palm—“to plant the seeds.”

  We all stared at them.

  “How did you—?” Reid started.

  Her dark eyes gleamed. Pressing the seeds into his hand, she said, “A fortuitous location, indeed. If you plant them—if you care for them—they will grow.” When Reid didn’t move, when he only studied the seeds with open suspicion, Madame Sauvage poked his chest. “Well, what are you waiting for? Do it now! I’m not getting any younger.”

  “I don’t have a shovel—”

  With an impatient sigh, Lou waved her hand, and the seeds flew outward in a sharp burst of magic, scattering across the grove. In the next second, they burrowed into the ground of their own accord. “There.” She thrust her arm through Reid’s. “Are we settled? Have we honored this ridiculous bargain?”

  Trees burst from the ground as Madame Sauvage’s answer.

  Pear trees.

  They climbed skyward at a rapid pace, white blossoms blooming and falling to reveal hard green fruit. A dozen in all—one tree for each seed planted. Lou gasped as Reid stared, as Beau leapt backward, and Madame Labelle stretched incredulously to touch one of the low-hanging fruit. Shaking her head, she whirled to face the old woman. “Who are you?”

  Madame Sauvage bowed, looking meaningfully at Lou. “A friend.”

  She turned without another word, and as suddenly as she’d hobbled into our presence, she hobbled out, leaving only the peculiar scent of . . . of earth in her wake. Of fresh grass and pine sap and pears. Still smiling, Zenna, Seraphine, Toulouse, and Thierry followed after her.

  Lou watched them go, slack-jawed, until unexpected laughter burst from her. Until she was breathless with it. She turned to Reid, tears of mirth lining her turquoise eyes. “That nosy son of a bitch—”

  I didn’t hear the rest, however. Because at the edge of the grove, Madame Sauvage looked back to meet my gaze. My gaze. With a small smile, she inclined her head toward something behind me.

  “Ansel.”

  I turned at that voice, at that presence. I recognized it now as innately as my own.

  Two figures stood on the path down the mountain. His hair and his jaw were my own. Her eyes and her skin, as well. “Are you ready, darling?” The woman extended an olive hand to me, and her smile—it was as warm as I’d always dreamed it. As warm as this summer night.

  “That boy is asking after you again,” the man said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Etienne.”

  Butterflies erupted at the name.

  Unbidden, my feet drifted toward them, my lips lifting in a smile. I couldn’t help one last look, however—at Lou, at Reid, at Coco, at Beau. They milled around the pear trees, feeling each trunk, testing the leaves. Laughing at themselves with Terrance and Liana and Manon.

  If you plant them—if you care for them—they will grow.

  My smile widened. Madame Sauvage had vanished, leaving them to life anew.

  Taking my mother’s hand, I did too.

  Acknowledgments

  I owe a great debt to many people for not only the creation of this book, but also for the creation of this entire series. To cut straight to the heart of it, the most important of them is you. The reader. Thank you seems too commonplace an expression to convey my gratitude, but truly, no words can describe the emotion in my chest when I think of how kind you’ve all been, how enthusiastic. Though the pandemic struck just months after Serpent & Dove was published, each one of you went above and beyond to support these books. The beautiful photos, illustrations, cosplays, lyrics, reels—I have a lump in my throat thinking of them now. The past three years have changed my life, and readers continue to be the heart of that. From Lou and Reid, from Coco, Ansel, Beau, and me, thank you, thank you, thank you.

  Jordan, I’ve told you a million times, but I’ll tell you again—I couldn’t have written this book without you. When writers ask me for guidance, I often tell them to find what they love and lean into it unapologetically. You give me permission to follow my own advice. This book—all my books—wouldn’t contain half the wit, half the kissing, half the fun without your input. Are you my muse? Probably. I love you to the moon and to Saturn.

  RJ, Beau, James, and Rose, words will never be able to convey the depths of my love for you. This deadline could’ve been a burden, but it wasn’t. Thank you for your patience. Thank you for your understanding. Thank you for your love and respect and support as together, we chase our crazy dreams. Zane and Kelly—and Jake, Brooke, Justin, Chelsy, and Lewie—we don’t get to choose our family, but even if we could, I would choose you anyway. Thank you for being my collective rock. I love you all more than you know.

  Jordan, Spencer, Meghan, Aaron, Adrianne, Chelsea, Courtney, Austin, Jamie, Josh, Jake, Jillian, Aaron, Jon, and Kendall, you are my favorite people on this earth, and your wholehearted support of both me and my books has been so precious to me. I don’t deserve any of you. Katie, Carolyn, Isabel, Kristin, Adrienne, Adalyn, and Rachel, there is something so special about writing friends who become real-life friends, and I couldn’t be m
ore honored to call you mine.

  Sarah, I feel so incredibly grateful to have such a warm and approachable agent in my corner. Erica, editor extraordinaire, I can’t thank you enough for your unending patience and your infallible vision for this series. (And I promise I’ll make my next deadline! I promise!) Stephanie Guerdan, it was so wonderful to work with you. Alexandra Rakaczki and Jessica White, I’m so grateful for your sharp eyes, and I similarly promise there will be no Célie or Philippe in my next book! Allison Brown, thank you for all the time and energy you poured into this series. Jessie Gang and Alison Donalty, these covers have continued to blow my mind; I attribute so much of this series’ success to your and Katt Phatt’s skills. Rachel Horowitz, Sheala Howley, and Cassidy Miller, as well as Sophie Kossakowski, Gillian Wise, Sam Howard, Karen Radner, and the entire sales team, thank you for working behind the scenes to make these books successful.

  Mitch Thorpe, Michael D’Angelo, Ebony LaDelle, Audrey Diestelkamp, and the entire team at Epic Reads—you are all rock stars. Truly, I can’t thank you enough for your enthusiasm and support of this series, as well as the resources and opportunities you provided.

  About the Author

  Courtesy Shelby Mahurin

  SHELBY MAHURIN is the New York Times bestselling author of the Serpent & Dove trilogy. She grew up on a small farm in rural Indiana, where sticks became wands and cows became dragons. Her rampant imagination didn’t fade with age, so she continues to play make-believe every day—with words now instead of cows. When not writing, Shelby watches The Office and reads voraciously. She still lives near that childhood farm with her very tall husband and semiferal children. Visit her online at www.shelbymahurin.com.

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  Books by Shelby Mahurin

  Serpent & Dove