Kyle waited until Warren and Stefan were downstairs before saying, “Stefan looks hungry. You think Warren is going to feed him before bringing him back?”
“I think,” I said, “that might be a good idea. He already had a bite of me today and was starting to look at you like you might be dinner. I don’t think Warren would let Stefan feed from you if he asked, and you consented. Werewolves are possessive that way. Probably better if Warren does it. Being a werewolf with a pack, Warren won’t end up Stefan’s good friend Renfield.”
Kyle grimaced.
“Don’t start the conversation if you don’t want an honest answer,” I told him, hopping out of the chair and perusing one of the bookcases stuffed with Blu-rays, DVDs, and VHS tapes.
When Warren and Stefan came upstairs, it was obvious to me that Stefan had fed again. He was moving with something close to his usual grace.
“Don’t you have Bride of Frankenstein?” he asked, when Kyle held up The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra as our pick for the second movie. “Or Father of the Bride? Four Weddings and a Funeral?” He glanced at me. “Maybe The Butterfly Effect?” Yep, he was feeling better.
I threw a pillow at him. “Just shut up. Shut. Up.”
Stefan caught the pillow, tossed it back to me, and laughed.
“What’s up?” asked Kyle.
I buried my head in the pillow. “My mother has given up on doves for the wedding and—though I didn’t know they were in contention—apparently pigeons. She wants to release butterflies and balloons instead.”
Warren looked properly appalled, but Kyle laughed.
“It’s a new trend, Mercy,” he said. “Right up your alley because it’s supposed to be based on an Indian legend. The story is that if you catch a butterfly and whisper your wish to it, then let it go, that the butterfly will take your request to the Great Spirit. Since you released the butterfly, when you could have killed or captured it, the Great Spirit will be inclined to view your request favorably.”
“I am doomed,” I told the pillow. “Doomed to butterflies and balloons.”
“At least it isn’t pigeons,” observed Warren practically.
2
“SO WHAT DID YOU DO TO DARRYL?” ADAM ASKED AS he shut the driver’s-side door of my Rabbit.
Usually I drove the Rabbit, but Alpha wolves don’t deal well with commercial airline travel. Having to trust some stranger to fly the plane had left Adam with a need for control, so when his daughter Jesse and I picked him up from the airport, he got to drive.
“I didn’t do anything to Darryl,” I protested.
Adam gave me a long look before he backed out of the parking spot and drove toward the exit of the airport parking lot.
“I stopped by Stefan’s on the way to movie night,” I said. “Adam, Stefan is in real trouble. He’s lost a lot of his menagerie, and he hasn’t replaced them. They’re dying; he was dying.”
Adam reached out for my arm and turned it so he could see the inside of my elbow. I looked at the flawless skin with interest, too.
“Mercy,” Adam said, as Jesse snickered in the backseat. “Quit screwing around.”
“It’s on the other arm,” I told him. “Just a couple of marks. In a day or so, they’ll be gone. You know it won’t hurt me. Our mate bond and the pack keeps him from connecting to me the way he would a human.”
“No wonder Darryl was upset,” Adam told me as he pulled up to the ticket booth behind another car. “He doesn’t like vampires.”
“Stefan needs to gather more people into his menagerie,” I said. “He knows it, I know it—but I can’t tell him so.”
“Why not?” asked Jesse.
“Because a vampire’s menagerie is made up of victims,” Adam answered. “Most of them die very slowly. Stefan’s better than the average vampire, but they are still victims. If Mercy encourages him to go out hunting, she’s telling him that she approves of what he’s doing.”
“Which I don’t,” I said staunchly. The driver of the car in front of us was arguing with the ticket lady. I picked at the seam of my jeans.
“Except that it’s Stefan,” Adam said. “Who’s not such a bad guy for a vampire.”
“Yeah,” I agreed soberly. “But he’s still a vampire.”
The lady in the ticket booth apparently won the argument because the driver handed her his credit card. I noticed that the ticket lady had a bouquet of helium balloons beside her; in the center was a Mylar balloon that said, “Happy Birthday, Grandma!”
“I have a request,” I told Adam, as he handed the parking ticket to the lady in the booth.
“What’s that?” He looked exhausted. This was his second trip this month to the other Washington on the opposite side of the country, and it was wearing on him. I hesitated. Maybe I should wait until he’d gotten a good night’s sleep.
In the backseat of the Rabbit, Jesse giggled. She was a good kid, and we liked each other. Today, her hair was the same dark brown as her father’s. Yesterday, it had been green. Green is not a good hair color on anyone. After three weeks of hair that looked like rotting spinach, I think she finally agreed with me. When I got up this morning to go to work, she was in the process of dyeing it. The brown was somewhat more unexpected than the green had been.
“Hush, you,” I told her with mock sternness. “No cracks from the peanut gallery.”
“What do you need?” Adam asked me.
I already felt better with him home—the restless anxiety that was my constant companion when he was away had left and taken with it my panicky trapped feeling, too.
The lady in the parking booth nodded and waved us on because we’d timed Adam’s flight right and had only been there fifteen minutes—still in the free-parking time allotment.
The balloons beside her made my stomach clench, especially the gold ones.
“I want to get married,” I told him, as Adam put the Rabbit in gear, and we put the balloons behind us.
He tilted his head and eyed me briefly before turning his attention back to the road. Likely his nose was giving him a taste of what I was feeling. Most strong feelings are vulnerable to detection when you live with werewolves. My nose was good, too, but all it told me was that he’d had a woman sitting next to him on the flight home, because her scent clung to his sleeve. Often our mating bond allowed us to know what the other was feeling or, more rarely, thinking, but it wasn’t working that way right now.
“I was under the impression that we are getting married,” he said cautiously.
“Now, Dad.” Jesse stuck her head between the bucket seats of my Rabbit. “She wants to get married now. Her mom called on Friday and has given up on the doves—”
“I thought you’d already told her no doves?” Adam asked me.
“—and the pigeons,” his daughter continued on blithely.
“Pigeons?” said Adam thoughtfully. “Pigeons are pretty. And they taste pretty good, too.”
I hit him in the shoulder. Not hard, just enough to acknowledge his teasing.
“—but finally decided that butterflies would be better,” continued Jesse.
“Butterflies and balloons,” I told Adam. “She wants to release butterflies and balloons. Two hundred balloons. Gold ones.”
“I expect she’s trying to get Monarch butterflies if she wants gold balloons,” Jesse said helpfully.
“Monarch butterflies,” said Adam. “Can you imagine the poor things trying to figure out their migration route from the Tri-Cities?”
“She has to be stopped before she destroys the ecosystem,” I told him, only half-joking. “And I can only think of one way to do it. My sister eloped under the pressure of planning her wedding with my mother. I guess I can, too.”
He laughed—and looked a lot less tired.
“I love your mother,” he said with honest satisfaction that lowered his voice to a purr. “I suppose preserving the Tri-Cities’ ecosystem is a valid reason for jumping the gun. Let’s get married, then. I have my passport with me. Do you
have your birth certificate, so we can get the license, or do we need to go home first?”
* * *
IT WAS A LITTLE MORE COMPLICATED THAN THAT, SO IT took us two days to get married. Eloping just isn’t as quick as it used to be unless you live in Vegas, I guess. Of course, we still might have made it in one except that I insisted on Pastor Arnez doing the honors. He’d had a funeral and two weddings to work us around.
Adam had lost a lot of things fighting in Vietnam. His humanity and belief in God were just a few of them, he told me. He wasn’t thrilled about a church wedding, but he couldn’t really object without admitting that it was anger, not disbelief, he felt about God. I was just as glad to avoid that argument for a while.
We meant the ceremony to be a small thing, Adam, Jesse, and me, with a pair of witnesses. Peter, the pack’s lone submissive, stopped in at the house at just the right time and so was pressed into service as a witness. Zee, my mentor, who would step in and run my business while we were gone on our impromptu honeymoon, was thus brought into our plans almost immediately and claimed the privilege of second witness. Despite rumor, the fae have no trouble going into a church of whatever denomination or religion. It is the steel that the early Christian church brought along with it that was deadly to the fae, not Christianity itself—though sometimes the fae forget that part, too.
Somehow, though, word got out among the pack, and most of them managed to be at the church on Tuesday morning by the time Jesse and I drove in. Adam was coming separately with Peter in a nod to tradition. He had had to stop for gas, so Jesse and I arrived first, and when we parked, there were a lot of familiar cars in the lot.
“Word travels fast,” I said, getting out of the car.
Jesse nodded solemnly. “Remember when Auriele was trying to throw a surprise party for Darryl? We might have managed to keep the pack out of this if we could have gotten it done yesterday. Do you really mind?”
“No,” I said. “I don’t mind. But if we have a lot of people here, Mom’s going to feel bad.” My stomach began to tighten with stress. One of the reasons to have a planned wedding was to avoid hurting people’s feelings. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
When we walked into the church, though, it became obvious that more than just the pack had found out. Uncle Mike greeted us at the door—I supposed Zee had told him. Looking over his shoulder, I saw that the old barkeeper had brought a few other fae, including, somewhat to my dismay, Yo-yo Girl, whom I’d last seen eating the ashes of a fairy queen. Yo-yo Girl wasn’t really her name, which I had never learned, just what she’d been doing the first time I’d met her. She was dangerous, powerful, and looked like a ten-year-old girl with flowers in her hair, wearing a summer dress. She smiled at me. I think she knew how much she scared me and thought it was funny.
I hadn’t intended on walking formally up the aisle. But as people started to arrive, Samuel—werewolf, previous roommate, and long-time-ago boyfriend—pulled me aside and gave me a bouquet of white and gold flowers.
He pulled my hair away from my left ear and bent down to whisper, “My, but you are going to have your hands full with Jesse, aren’t you? A little over three days, and she has the whole thing organized.”
“Three?” I said. “We just decided to elope yesterday.”
He smiled at me and kissed my forehead. “I heard about it on Saturday.” Before Adam returned from the East Coast.
I glanced at Jesse—who smiled brightly at me, and mouthed, “Surprise.” Then I took a real look around. While we waited for Adam, the church foyer had been acquiring a festive air as people brought out boxes with flowers and wide white ribbons—and if I wasn’t mistaken, a few of the fae were using magic to add their own touch.
I wore my wedding dress, purchased the month before. I’d thought it would be odd, with such a quick ceremony, but since I already had the dress—a great frothy thing from the waist down and formfitting white silk on top with narrow sleeves—Jesse had decided I should wear it. And Jesse had chosen to wear her bridesmaid gown because “What else would I wear?” I hadn’t been suspicious at all, probably because I loved the dress and would have accepted any excuse to wear it.
Someone opened the chapel doors so people could go sit down, but there were a lot of people already seated. Not just wolves and fae—I could see some of Adam’s business contacts and some of my regular customers at the garage. Gabriel, my right hand at the garage, and Tony, my contact with the Kennewick Police Department, were sitting next to each other. I took a step closer to the chapel, trying to see everyone Jesse had made come to my elopement. There were a lot of them.
Samuel held me back as the foyer emptied until it was just us, Jesse, and Darryl—and the organ began to play Wagner.
Jesse, on Darryl’s arm, led the procession toward the mouth of the sacrament hall. She paused there, to let my sisters Nan and Ruthie, who’d evidently been hiding just inside the chapel doors where I couldn’t see them, lead the way, escorted by Warren and Ben, another of Adam’s wolves.
At the front of the chapel, Adam waited for me next to the minister.
I blinked back tears, sniffed—and Samuel dropped my arm.
I looked over to see what he was doing, but another man had taken his place.
“Zee wanted to have the honor of giving you away,” said Bran, Samuel’s father, the Marrock who ruled all the wolves anywhere I was likely to ever go, and the Alpha of the Montana-based wolf pack who had raised me. “But I had prior claim.”
“They argued for a good while,” Samuel whispered. “I thought there would be blood on the floor.”
I glanced in the church and realized that a lot of the Montana pack I’d grown up with were here. Charles, Samuel’s brother, sitting next to his mate, smiled at me. Charles seldom if ever smiled.
About that time, humiliatingly, I started to cry.
Bran leaned closer as we walked slowly, and said in a bare whisper that didn’t carry beyond us, “Before you start feeling overwhelmed by how nice we all are to do this for you, you really should know a few things. It all started with a bet ...”
When we lined up in the front of the church, as smoothly as if we’d practiced it, Bran was right: I wasn’t overwhelmed anymore. Nor was I crying. Nan, Ruthie, and Jesse stood on my side of the church, along with Bran, who still had my hand. Darryl, Warren, and Ben lined up on the other side, next to Adam.
My mother, the traitor seated in the front row of pews, sent my stepfather up to pin a silk Monarch butterfly on my bouquet. He kissed my cheek, exchanged a nod with Bran, then sat back down at my mother’s side. My mother gave me a delighted smile and looked nothing at all like the nefarious plotter she was.
“Balloons,” I mouthed at her, raising an eyebrow to show what I thought of her subterfuge.
She discreetly pointed up—and there, clinging to the ceiling, were dozens of gold balloons with silk butterflies tied to the strings.
At my side, Bran laughed—no doubt at my dumbfounded expression.
“Like the fae,” he murmured, “your mother doesn’t lie. Just leads you where she wants you to go willy-nilly, all for your own good. If it helps, you are not alone; she came to me with a coyote pup to raise, and look what happened to me. At least you don’t owe her a hundred dollars.”
“Serves you right for betting against my mother,” I told him, as the music drew to a close, and he led me across to Adam.
Bran stopped just short, pulled me back against him, and frowned at Adam—and let the weight of his authority be felt throughout the chapel. Bran could disguise what he was, and he usually did so, appearing as a wiry-muscled young man of no particular importance. Every once in a while, though, he let the reality of what he was out. Bran was an old, old wolf and powerful. He ruled the wolves in our part of the world, and no one in this room, not even the humans, would wonder that he could make Alpha wolves obey him. The organ music faltered under the weight of it and stuttered to a halt.
“Pup,” he said i
nto the sudden silence, “today, I’m giving you one of my treasures. You see that you take proper care of her.”
Adam, not visibly cowed, nodded once. “I’ll do that.”
Then the threat of what Bran was disappeared, and he became once more an unremarkable young-looking man in a nicely cut gray tux. “She’ll turn your life upside down.”
Adam smiled and, out of the corner of my eye, I saw my mother fan her face—Adam cleans up very nicely and, in a tux, is breathtaking even without the smile.
“She’s been doing that this past ten years, sir,” he said. “I don’t imagine it will change anytime soon.”
Bran let me step forward, and Adam took my hand.
“Have you lost any money lately?” I whispered.
“Do I look stupid?” he whispered back, raising my hand to his lips. “I have to sleep sometime. I didn’t know about this until your mom called me at my hotel after she gave you the butterfly call. She apparently has been talking to Jesse for a couple of weeks. You and I were the last to know.”
I stared at him, then looked at the mirthful gaze of Pastor Arnez. Have to wait for a funeral, indeed.
“I didn’t bet anything, either,” the pastor whispered to me.
“Most people,” said Adam thoughtfully—and loud enough that even the audience members without preternatural gifts could hear him—“have surprise birthday parties. You get a surprise wedding.”
And, almost as if they were coached—which at least a dozen people later assured me was not the case—they all shouted, “Surprise!”
In the brief silence that followed, one of the helium balloons popped and its remains, including a silk butterfly, fell down to the floor behind the minister. If it was an omen, I had absolutely no idea what it meant.
* * *
THERE WAS AN IMPRESSIVE ARRAY OF FOOD AND drink in the church basement, and I took the opportunity to corner my little sister Nan.
“How come you got to elope, and I get a surprise wedding?” I asked her.
She grinned at me. “You have cake on your chin.” She reached over and wiped it off—looked around for a napkin, then stuck her finger in her mouth to clean it off.
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