Bonds of Darkness

by Joyce Ellen Armond

  "It was so expensive,” Kate said for the tenth time in twenty minutes.

  "It's time you tasted good champagne,” Paul said, completing the refrain.

  "Kate?” The voice intruded on the intimacy of their exchange. “Kate Scott?"

  Kate turned. There, framed in the twinkling red and green lights rimming the store window, in all her bony glory, stood ADA Louisa Frischler.

  Kate let out a breath that turned the air silver with frost. “Louisa! What a complete surprise."

  Paul tilted his head, questioning.

  "The ADA."

  Paul lifted his brow, then shifted his eyes to Louisa. “I've heard so much."

  Louisa smirked and shrugged. The designer bag on her shoulder slid down her arm. “Sorry to hear you didn't have the guts to fight the war, kid,” she said to Kate.

  Kate looked at Paul, and Paul at Kate. They burst out laughing.

  Louisa blushed and changed the subject, fast. “That's a lot of champagne. What's the celebration?"

  "We're getting married tonight!” Kate knew she was grinning like a fool, but couldn't stop and didn't care.

  Louisa pulled a face. “That's sudden."

  Still laughing, Paul said, “My mother was always insufferably right about everything.” He nudged Kate with his shoulder.

  "It was really nice to see you again,” Kate said, her tone missing sincere by just a fraction, “but we have so much do to."

  They left Louisa, alone and chic, framed by the twinkling lights.

  Paul put the champagne in the trunk of a sensible blue Corolla—Kate's choice to replace the totaled Mercedes. They drove out of the shopping center as the sun threw long shadows on the snow that had fallen last night. Paul parked outside of Café Foy, right in front of the blank wall where the “For Sale” sign had once hung.

  They looked at each other, grinning.

  Five weeks after Halloween, as they had stood over the still smoking remains of Paul's house, a long dark sedan pulled up to the curb. A man in an Armani suit stepped out of the back seat. He carried a black envelope.

  "Paul Dumond?"

  Paul stared wordlessly. Kate took the envelope. The man turned on his heel and retreated to his waiting car.

  "Burn it,” Paul whispered. “Throw it in the ashes and burn it."

  Kate ignored him and picked open the flap of the envelope. Inside she found a single typewritten sheet. She held it up for Paul. “It's an address in the city. Do you recognize it?"

  Paul shook his head. “I don't care where it is. We aren't going."

  The next morning they stood outside a polished chrome office building with no name, only a number, on the door.

  "I'm not going in there,” Paul said.

  "Aren't you curious?” Kate took his hand. “I'll protect you."

  "Ha."

  They went inside. A sleek, artfully red-headed receptionist directed them to the top floor. An equally sleek and artfully blonde secretary led them into an office of tinted windows, dark wood and creamy leather. An angular, crisply-creased, white-haired man waited behind a mahogany desk.

  "Paul Dumond?"

  Paul nodded.

  The man explained a few things in a thick European accent. “In the event of his death, Mr. Wald made provisions that all of his assets be transferred to your control, according to your directions.” He tapped a few keys on his laptop, turned the screen around to face them. “We await those directions."

  For a moment the office vibrated with silence as Kate and Paul sorted through the list of accounts, inventory of assets, and all the zeros in the right hand column.

  Paul crossed his arms and set his jaw. “I won't take anything that was his."

  The white-haired man frowned.

  Kate broke out laughing. “Baby, he owed you."

  Paul had pouted about it until Kate showed him the pregnancy test. Things went quickly after that.

  With the champagne carefully cradled in Paul's arms, they stamped through the snow on the porch and into the coffee shop. Warm smells welcomed them home. No one manned the counter. Dee sat with everyone else: Vanessa, Gwen, Laurie, and Vern. No one sat on the sofa. That space was left open for Kate and Paul.

  Vanessa leapt to her feet. “I thought you'd never get back. We have so much to do! Your hair, your nails..."

  "She can't be late to her own wedding,” Vern said.

  "She can't be late to her own wedding,” Vanessa snapped back, “because it can't start without her."

  "You two,” Dee chuckled, and Kate recognized a familiar light in her eyes. She's on another matchmaking trip. Good luck, girlfriend.

  Paul returned from stashing the champagne in the kitchen refrigerator. “What's up?"

  "I'm being whisked away to be made beautiful for my groom,” Kate said as Vanessa and Gwen closed in.

  "Hmmmm.” His eyes told her that he already found her beautiful, but then he winked and said to Vanessa, “Make sure you do something with the hair."

  Gwen handed him a plain brown shopping bag. “I wanted to give you this before the ceremony,” she said.

  Paul eyed the bag. “It's beautiful. I love it already."

  Kate rolled her eyes.

  Paul opened the bag. He went still.

  "Paul?” Kate whispered.

  Paul put his hand in the bag and pulled out a palette of watercolors: blues, greens, golds, reds. He swallowed.

  "From one artist to another,” Gwen said.

  "Yes.” Paul turned the paints over in his hand. “Yes.” A smile broke across his face. “Thank you.” He lifted the palette towards Kate. “Watercolors,” he said.

  "Yes.” She gave Gwen her own grateful smile. “Thank you."

  "Eye shadow is vastly more interesting,” Vanessa said. “Can we go?"

  Paul dropped a kiss on Kate's nose. “I will see you at moonrise."

  "Moonrise,” she whispered back.

  "With better hair,” Vanessa said, and pulled her outside.

  Back at Gwen's old Victorian, they soaked Kate in a warm, scented bath, then oiled her body like she was heading for a harem. They spent a full hour huddled like concerned surgeons over her hair.

  When they were finished, Kate stood in the dressing room, her image reflected and repeated in the dozens of mirrors. Her dress was simple, long-sleeved, square-necked, no veil. Gwen fastened her wedding gift from Paul around her neck: a delicate braid of gold links, burnished into the deepest, richest color, each link cradling a sparkling point of a diamond. The teardrop topaz centered in the hollow of her throat caught all the lights in her hair.

  Kate thought of the image in the cursed mirror she'd seen, trapped in Sander's wards. She looked at the reflection in white staring back at her, stuck out her tongue, and laughed.

  They hustled back to Café Foy, where they found the tables and chairs all pushed aside and an aisle of tea lights and red rose petals leading to the sofa and Laurie. Her skin was white and thin as tissue, but her eyes were clear and steady and, for the first time Kate remembered, at peace.

  There was no sign of Paul and Dee and Vern.

  "They're late?” Vanessa asked, her voice arching high into outrage.

  "You're early,” Laurie said.

  Vanessa tilted her head. “Well that's a lifetime first for me."

  Gwen said, “I'll go upstairs and find them."

  Laurie smiled at Kate. “You look lovely."

  Kate smiled back. “I feel lovely."

  "You should.” Laurie waved her closer. Careful of the rose petals, Kate complied. “Have you considered what you'll do, after the wedding?"

  Kate hadn't. She had no job and, with Sander's assets now their assets, she never really had to get another one. Her hand fell to her stomach. “There's the baby...” she said, but even as she said it, she knew that there would have to be something else. She would never go back to victim advocacy, but she couldn't ignore the call to service bred into her.

  When she didn't have an answer, Laurie cocked
a brow. “Vern makes a very good teacher,” she said, “and you show a very deep, natural talent."

  Kate ran her mind over the idea. Kate the witch. She had a boring enough name for it.

  "Think about it,” Laurie said.

  "I will,” Kate replied.

  Gwen came down the stairs, her long skirt swirling around her ankles. “They're ready.” She snagged Kate's arm. “Come on."

  She positioned Kate out on the porch in the cold as everyone else took their seats. Through the frosted window, Kate caught a glimpse of Dee, Vern, and then Paul. He stood in the rose petals in front of their breakfast sofa, looking at home in gray tails and gloves.

  "I'm proud of you, Kate,” Gwen said, handing her a bouquet of red carnations. Paul had insisted there be no white flowers. “I'm not afraid anymore of not finding love,” she said, “because you've shown me how to do it."

  Kate hugged her and kissed her cheek. “I'm freezing. Let's get this going."

  Gwen kissed her back and went inside. Kate stood in the dark by herself. The first silver rays of moonlight lengthened shadows on the snow. She remembered the first time she'd opened the café door. How could she have known what she was stepping into?

  Leaving the past, Kate opened the café door one more time. Snow swirled inside with her, blowing across the rose petals. The wind blew the door shut behind her with a slam and a jangle of the bell. Her eyes went right to Paul, and, for a heartbeat, nothing else existed. Then, without escort, she walked down the path of rose petals and snow to stand at his side.

  They hadn't rehearsed, hadn't tapped anyone to stand with them. So when she went to take Paul's hand, she gave Laurie the flowers.

  "That's not the way it should go,” Vern muttered.

  "Be quiet,” Vanessa whispered.

  Laurie, holding the flowers and smiling, said, “There is nothing we can do to better recognize the union between Paul and Kate than the Universe already has. But in front of their friends tonight, they would like to give vows to each other.” She looped a white silk ribbon around their clasped hands.

  Kate looked at Paul. “You first."

  Paul's eyes gathered her in. “To you I vow my heart, because you saved my soul. To you I vow the rest of my life, because it is you who gave it to me."

  Tears gathered on Kate's lashes.

  "And I also vow that before I am done with you, you will have a favorite flavor of ice cream."

  Gwen and Vanessa laughed.

  Paul bent his head toward Kate's. “That you will take long vacations. That you will learn how to play. That you will..."

  Kate felt the grin spread across her face.

  "Don't laugh, or I win."

  She pulled his head down to hers.

  "They can't kiss now, the ceremony just started,” Vern complained. “That's not the way it goes!"

  "Shut up!"

  The End

  About the Author:

  Joyce Ellen Armond loves sappy love songs and face-eating monsters with equal enthusiasm. Her personal passion is melding the genres of romance and horror. From her home base in rural Pennsylvania, waiting for the zombie apocalypse, she edits the Speculative Romance Online website and newsletter.

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