Chapter 16

Two hours later I sat in the reception tent with a huge slice of wedding cake in front of me. The dance floor was empty, as were most of the tables. Tamara sat beside me, what looked to be an entire half a tier of wedding cake crammed onto her plate. Since the wedding had never resumed, there really weren’t any guests to eat the cake, so Tamara had stated that she’d be damned if we didn’t eat and enjoy it. It wasn’t like she could return it. Despite her words, she was only poking at her ginormous slice with her fork. Holly just watched.

Several cops still milled around—some guests but others on duty finishing up their reports on the “interruption.” Crime scene techs combed the area around the gazebo, searching for the dart the hobgoblin had shot from his blowgun. It had yet to be found. One FIB officer had responded to the scene. Aside from the children, I was the only person who’d seen the true faces of the two bogeymen, but everyone had seen them vanish without a trace and there were more than a few sensitives who hadn’t felt an invisibility charm trigger. Despite all that, since no one had been hurt and there was no proof fae had been involved, the FIB agent who’d responded seemed less than interested in what he labeled “a disturbance of the peace.” When I’d ask about Falin, the agent had only scowled at me and refrained from answering.

So, cake.

But I wasn’t eating much more of it than Tamara was. I shoved it around my plate, staring at the fluffy white frosting. It was good cake. I knew that. I’d been part of the sample group who’d tasted all the options and helped Tamara decide which to order for tonight. But the sugary concoction no longer tasted good.

It tasted a lot like guilt.

“This is not what I imagined,” Tamara said, stabbing her cake. She’d said that exact phrase a dozen times over the last hour, and I still didn’t know how to respond. I wasn’t even sure she was aware she’d spoken. At least she wasn’t crying anymore.

Holly put her arm around Tamara’s shoulder, but she seemed just as lost for an appropriate response. I mean, this was not a “sometimes these things happen” kind of situation. People did not prepare for the possibility of bogeymen crashing their big day. There were no Hallmark condolence cards with sympathetic phrases for when your wedding turned into a crime scene.

“It could have been worse,” Tamara’s sister, Donella, replied. She’d floated between Tamara and their mother, so it was quite possible she hadn’t heard the earlier reiteration of the statement.

Tamara set down her fork. “Oh yeah? How, exactly, could it have gone any worse?”

Donella paused, her bite of cake hovering in front her mouth, and then she smiled. “Ethan could have been turned into a toad.”

Tamara’s lips parted, and for one lingering moment, I thought she’d laugh at that. Then her bottom lip stretched as the edges of her mouth turned down and she gave out a loud, stuttering sob. Her arms curved around her stomach, and she collapsed into herself.

Donella looked mortified, and far too stunned to move. I slid my seat closer to Tamara’s. I’m not what one would call a hugger, but I put my hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly, offering what silent support I could. She shook, her entire body trembling with her tears.

“Maybe it’s a sign,” Tamara said, between gasps for air. “Maybe we should wait until the tests next month.” This she directed toward her still-flat stomach, her palm rubbing the space under her belly button.

I was about to tell her my theory on the two bogeymen. To apologize for my part in them coming here, to her wedding, and take any amount of debt that apology might require, when a deep masculine voice spoke from directly behind me, making everyone at the table jump.

“Are you saying there is anything those tests could tell us that would make you not want to marry me?”

Tamara twisted to stare at Ethan with rounded, red-rimmed eyes. “What if they tell us . . .” She trailed off, her hand once again pressing protectively against her stomach.

“We will deal with whatever happens, together.” He knelt in front of her, cupping both her hands in his. “Tamara Amelia Greene, I love you. Marry me. Right here. Right now.”

Tamara looked around at the disheveled group, at the disarray of the trampled scene, at the half-eaten cake, and then down at her white gloves that were stained with the makeup her tears had washed away. “This is not how I imagined it.”

“Oh, but think of the stories we’ll have,” Ethan said, and gave her a beaming smile before climbing to his feet and pulling her up after him. “The most important people are still here. Marry me, Tam.”

She finally smiled. “Yes.” She kissed him. “Yes, yes, yes.”

I slipped out of my seat silently and backed away. It would take them a minute to gather the necessary people and work out the details. If they had a quick ceremony, I’d stand with Tamara as one of her bridesmaids—if she’d still have me after all this—but for now I let them have their moment without a crowd.

John, who’d attended the wedding as a guest but had been hanging out with the cops investigating the case since the disturbance, met my eye and waved me over to join him. My legs were numb from sitting in the folding seat too long, and between that and the heels, they wobbled under me as I walked. Or at least that was what I told myself. I really didn’t want to think I was simply that weak from the fading already.

I smoothed my dress as I crossed the empty dance floor—which was pretty pointless as the dress was well and truly ruined. Between throwing myself to the ground and then crawling to the gazebo, the dress had more than one grass stain on the maroon fabric. Fussing with the fabric did give me something to focus on besides the questions John would inevitably ask. But all too soon I’d crossed the garden and reached the friend I feared I was losing.

He led me to a table and gestured for me to take a seat. I did, but immediately regretted doing so when John didn’t sit but instead loomed over me, his arms crossed over his chest.

“So what exactly happened? Was this about a case you’re working?”

No one had actually questioned me yet. There were a lot of witnesses, many of them cops, and I’d been with the group comforting the bride, so I hadn’t been singled out to report on what I’d seen. John knew a little bit more about me than most though. He didn’t know I was fae, but he knew my propensity for attracting trouble. Particularly fae-related trouble.

“You’re assuming they were targeting me.”

He lifted one bushy eyebrow that used to be red but was now salted with white. Yeah, he was making that assumption. And so was I.

I sighed, debating what to tell him. He was a homicide detective, so this wasn’t his case. Even if it was, the suspects were fae and he wasn’t equipped to trace and arrest them. Still, while I might have preferred to hash out the details with Falin—he was a resource even if things were awkward between us—I could use any help I could get.

“The two wedding crashers were bogeymen. That’s what set off the screaming fits—they can’t hide their nature from kids. I think one of them might have been a hobgoblin, which can’t be a coincidence as yesterday I got a tip that a hobgoblin might be dealing Glitter.”

I expected some sort of response, even if it was a grunt approving my supposition or maybe a skeptical crinkle of his brows, but John gave me nothing. His expression froze as he thought, sharing nothing. After an agonizing stretch of seconds, he pulled out the chair beside me and sat.

“Tell me what you know.”

I didn’t know much, and some of what I did know I couldn’t share, but I described both my short exchange with the bartender at the Bloom as well as what I’d observed today at the wedding. John didn’t question how I’d seen through the faes’ glamour and I didn’t offer any explanation.

“Why can’t you stay out of these kinds of cases, Alex?”

My shoulders fell, heavy with the weight of his disapproval. “I don’t go out looking for them, but I can’t drop this case, John. I can’t.” Not if I wanted to track down the alchemist. He had to be stopped, and not just so I could retain a semblance of freedom. He had a lot of deaths on his hands. Plus he had to be held accountable for wrecking my best friend’s wedding.

John ran a hand down his face, his thumb and forefinger pulling the skin around his eyes taut for a moment before dropping to the tabletop. “Why the hell not, Alex? Until the dart they shot at you can be found, we have no idea if they intended to kill you or capture you, but this looked a little more serious than just a warning. I mean, where do bogeymen even come from? Did they crawl out of a nightmare?”

I opened my mouth, but then snapped it shut with a click. Where had the bogeymen come from? I’d assumed they had to be winter court or maybe independent. But what if they weren’t? Checking probably wouldn’t be too hard—the queen’s people had to have some sort of census list of everyone in her territory. Again, I needed to talk to Falin. Hopefully he was all right. Anyone at the FIB probably had access to a list of the independents at the very least, but I doubted any agent beside Falin would give me access to search for the bogeymen.

But what if they weren’t independents or winter court? I’d made the assumption they were because this was winter’s territory, but bad guys didn’t follow the rules, that sort of went along with being a bad guy. But if not winter, what court did they belong to? Fae took oaths to their courts, but it wasn’t impossible to change allegiances. A frost pixie like Icelynne was likely to belong to the winter court, but while it would be uncomfortable, it wouldn’t be impossible for her to join, say, the summer court. Bogeymen were creatures that thrived in darkness, and like John had said, the subject of nightmares.

I knew neither fae was an actual nightmare—I’d seen nightmares before in the realm of dreams—but that didn’t mean they didn’t belong in that creepy landscape. Or possibly in the shadow court. There was no guarantee, but I could make some inquiries. I even had contacts, of sorts, in both places.

“You’ve thought of something,” John said, his expression caught between a scowl and concern.

I shrugged, trying to make the movement look unconcerned. Judging by John’s deepening frown, I didn’t succeed.

“I suppose nothing I say will convince you to drop this case?”

“I would if I could, John. If I only could.”