Chapter 15

I channeled a small string of magic into the flower arrangement in front of me, activating the charm held within. The spray of chrysanthemums glimmered faintly, like a small ember had taken hold of each scarlet petal. Then I stepped back, glancing around the gazebo.

“I think that’s all of them,” I said as Holly straightened, moving away from a similar display of shimmering orange mums.

She nodded and glanced around, checking our work. Every flower in the quaint wooden structure glimmered from within. The effect was faint now with the sun still a deep orange hanging low in the sky, but once dusk hit, the glow would give the gazebo a romantically dreamy look as Tamara and Ethan exchanged their vows. Which was, of course, the point, and why Tamara had spent the last two days charming all the flowers. We may have planned this wedding in a month, but that didn’t mean she was willing to skimp on her fairy tale.

“Looks like we finished just in time,” Holly said, nodding toward the front of the gazebo.

A long red carpet ran down the wooden steps into the grass beyond. White folding chairs were set up on either side of the carpet in rows of five across. A small cluster of people were gathered behind the last row—the first wedding guests. I didn’t recognize them, so I guessed they must have been Ethan’s family or friends.

Tamara’s younger brother, who was acting as an usher for the wedding, was already striding across the grass so I felt no pressure to go greet them. I gave the decorations one last glance. Everything looked fabulous. I’d have liked to take credit for that, but Holly and I had mostly just activated the charms. Tamara, her sister, and her mom had done all the actual arranging.

“We should get back to the tent,” I said, heading down the short stairs, but neither Holly nor I hurried.

Both the bride and the groom had small pagoda-style tents so that the bridal party could get ready on-site. The tents were on opposite sides of the park so Ethan wouldn’t accidentally see his bride before her procession, and all the bridesmaids were supposed to be in the tent helping the bride. Tamara was one of my best friends, but I was seriously considering stealing off to the groom’s tent. After all, while us girls had hair and makeup, what could the groomsmen be doing? Probably talking about football and tossing back a beer while they waited. Okay, maybe not, but at least they didn’t have—

“What took you two so long?” a shrill voice asked as Holly pulled open the tent flap.

—The Mother of the Bride.

I sighed, but forced my expression to pleasant as I stepped inside. While I’d met Mrs. Greene on only a few occasions, I’d liked her in the past. Today? Not so much. Isn’t it the person actually getting married who gets the free pass to be a bridezilla? Not her mother? Granted, while Tamara’s little brother was married, she was the first girl in the family to get married. Still, the woman had been a hovering micromanager since Holly and I arrived—late, which hadn’t helped.

Mrs. Greene had curled her lips at the shoes I’d picked out, berated every color I chose for my makeup, and had finally forced me in a chair so Tamara’s sister could redo my hair. When it had been mentioned that the charms needed to be activated in the flowers, Holly and I had jumped at the opportunity to escape the tent. But now we were back.

“How’s it going?” I asked, hovering near the tent exit. That was apparently the wrong thing to say, as it opened the door for Mrs. Greene to go into a spiel about everything from the bouquets to the fit of Tamara’s dress.

For her part, Tamara sat serenely in front of the large vanity mirror, apparently unfazed by her mother’s incessant commentary or meticulous administrations with the curling iron. Personally, I would have been cowed, or at least annoyed. But Tamara only sat there, beaming at the room as a whole. A month ago she’d nearly deteriorated into a ghoul as her life force had been drained away. We’d stopped the process, but the experience had turned her normally full-figured, curvy form to one that was skeletally thin. A month’s time to recover had helped, but she was just now barely out of her first trimester of pregnancy, and the unending morning sickness had made it hard for her to regain the weight. But while she was still a little too thin, her honey-colored skin had a glow to it that said she was much healthier.

Her mother had created a gorgeous maze of corn rows along her scalp, leading to a high ponytail, her hair spilling out in dark ringlets from around a thick wall of pearls. She wore a matching necklace of pearls, and even more accented her dress, hanging like opaque teardrops from the gauzy material over a white satin sheath. In a word, she was stunning.

“You look awesome,” I said, walking up to squeeze her hand. Her smile brightened a shade more, her eyes sparkling.

“Knock, knock; everyone decent?” a male voice asked from outside the tent flap. “I’m finished with the groomsmen and groom photos. Are the bridesmaids and bride ready?”

“The photographer,” Mrs. Greene said, a hint of panic in her voice. She tossed the curling iron onto the vanity top and grabbed Tamara’s veil, looking frantic.

Tamara took it calmly from her trembling hands and attached it to her hair. Her mother and sister fussed over the veil and the hang of her dress as she stood, even Holly moved forward to help. Me? I stayed out of the way. I thought she looked great, but they tugged at what seemed to me to be imagined misalignments. Finally everyone stood back. Even Mrs. Greene smiled.

We were ready.

•   •   •

By the time I took my place at the end of the line of bridesmaids at the steps of the gazebo, my feet ached from standing in the new heels, my head hurt from all the pins taming my blond curls, and I was tired of carrying the bouquet of faintly glowing orange mums. But, at least I hadn’t tripped and fallen as I walked up the aisle.

The music changed to the obligatory rendition of “Here Comes the Bride,” and everyone turned. Tamara appeared between the arch at the end of the carpeted aisle, her arm hooked around her father’s. He was a tall man, age just beginning to bend him. He carried a cane, but today, for this walk, he seemed determined to use it as little as possible. The sun was steadily sinking, casting a warm glow over everything. Tamara’s white dress practically blazed as she all but floated down the aisle. Under her veil, I could see her smile trembling.

Did she still have second thoughts? I hadn’t seen any indication of the panic she’d called me in a few days ago when we had all been in the tent. No, likely her lips trembled from her attempt not to cry from joy—I’ve heard brides do that sometimes. I tried to imagine how I’d feel, but I couldn’t picture myself a bride. Though Death would look good in a tux. . . and so would Falin.

I frowned, and then forced the expression off my face. This was Tamara’s wedding. I focused once again on her slow glide up the aisle.

By the time she reached the front, her father’s eyes twinkled with unshed tears. He lifted her veil and kissed both of her cheeks before formally handing her off to her soon-to-be husband. For his part, Ethan beamed, his smile wide as he watched Tamara. His hands were steady as he engulfed her smaller, trembling ones and they both took the squat two steps up into the gazebo.

Then all hell broke loose.

We were all focused on the bride and groom, so no one noticed the two wedding crashers slink into the back. At least, not until the child screamed.

I think, at first, everyone tried to politely ignore the child. But the louder she screamed, the more eyes slid in her direction and discreet glances were tossed over shoulders. Finally even the bride and groom turned.

The mother, a young woman on Ethan’s side, looked more than a little embarrassed as she tried to calm her young daughter, who was maybe three years old. Someone muttered that she should take the girl to the car, and the woman ducked her head, uttering both agreement and apologies. The woman scooped up the small child, but the girl twisted in her arms, crying and pointing at a couple who seemed to be trying their best to ignore the girl’s attention. But now she wasn’t the only one.

Tamara’s nephew, who was just shy of two, lifted his voice to join the young girl’s. At first I thought he was crying because she was, but though he buried his face against his father’s leg, he kept peeking at the back row. At that same couple.

I frowned. The couple looked inconspicuous enough, she in an ankle-length navy dress and him in dark slacks and a polo shirt. I didn’t recognize them, but they were sitting on the groom’s side, and I didn’t know most of Ethan’s friends or family. Still, more than one young child being terrified was odd.

Before the magical awakening, some normal-looking—at least to adults—people scared children for reasons no one understood. Now we knew that there were certain fae whose glamour worked only on older adolescents and adults. Young children saw right through it. In particular, Bogies couldn’t hide what they were. That is, the traditional bogeymen who hid in closets and under beds but were never there when mom or dad looked, and of course, all the folk that mothers once warned naughty children would gobble them up if they played by lakes or under bridges.

I lowered my shields, just a crack. Around me, all the glowing flowers appeared to decay despite the swirls of purple and blue magic fixed inside them. Clothes on the party guests lost their splendor, instead appearing to fray and deteriorate.

And the otherwise inconspicuous couple in the back? Their rather normal appearance morphed into a nightmare as my innate ability to pierce glamour through the veils of reality revealed what hid beneath.

The man, who’d appeared to be a robust but normally sized and proportioned human male, was truly a good two feet shorter, so that he stood at four two tops. While not fat, he was wide, thick. His arms had to be larger around than my thighs, his meaty hands the size of bowling balls with red-tipped talons on each large finger. His features were spread across a leathery face, thick lips chapped and callused below a bulbous nose. Above oversized ears he wore a sagging red cap, which dripped viscous red liquid down the edges of his head, like a slow stream of blood. It was a horrific visage, the very thing to inspire night terrors in children and I had no doubt the fae was indeed of the bogeyman variety.

The woman was perhaps less physically frightening, at least compared to her companion, but she had an air of maliciousness about her. Where the man was squat and wide, she looked almost overstretched, with long, thin limbs that reminded me of naked tree limbs reaching for unsuspecting travelers in dark woods. Her skin had a green tinge to it—not unusual in many of the nature spirit fae, but while the green men, like Caleb, had a coloration that reminded one of spring and new growing things, her skin was more reminiscent of murky slime growing in stagnant water. Her dank green hair hung tangled about her shoulders, rotting plants and the bones of fish caught in the muck-covered strands. When she smiled, her teeth were small and pointed, like the grin of a piranha.

It wasn’t a huge mystery why the children had screamed. The real question was, had the couple been invited as guests or not? Being the subject of childhood tales didn’t automatically disqualify one from having friends. Many independent fae lived alongside their human neighbors without revealing their true nature. Others, like Caleb, my friend and landlord, didn’t exactly hide they were fae but didn’t advertise it either.

Thinking of Caleb, my eyes slid to where he sat on Tamara’s side of the aisle. With my shields down, I could see through the boy-next-door glamour he wore in public to his green man coloration and vaguely other features. He didn’t look scary, but then I knew him well and he was descended from rather harmless nature spirits, not bogeymen. The couple, Caleb, and well, me, were the only fae currently in attendance, at least that I could spot from a quick glance around the crowd. Caleb and I were obviously invited guests, but was there any reason to believe the couple weren’t guests? Ethan taught a course on the ethics of magic at the university. The couple could be colleagues or family friends.

I glanced at the couple again. The red liquid trickling from the man’s cap really did look like blood. I had a book at home detailing different fae from folklore, which, as most were oral stories written down in the Victorian era, wasn’t always a reliable source of information on the fae, but it was the best I could do. I’d been studying the book since I’d learned my own heritage, and I vaguely remembered a couple of stories about a classification of fae called Red Caps. If I remembered correctly, they were a type of goblin . . . Maybe even hobgoblin?

The two kids were being carried out now, the crowd murmuring softly. The couple exchanged a glance and then both looked directly at me. The way their gazes bore into me, I got the distinct impression they could tell I was looking across the planes. My charm hid my own otherness only if what you expected to see was human. If they could see through my illusion, they knew exactly who and what I was. I knocked a couple of points off the probability of them being just another pair of guests.

They stood as a unit and began making their way out of their row. Tamara and Ethan had turned back around, the wedding proceeding, but as the two fae slipped onto the red carpet, the crowd began to shift nervously again.

Holly noticed the couple and shot a glance back at me, her face a question. I had no answers, but a bad feeling slid along my spine. I clenched my fists around my bouquet. My dagger was in my purse, which was in the bridesmaid tent. My instincts urged me to move, to stop standing like an attending statue, but I really, really didn’t want to be the one to ruin Tamara’s wedding just because a creepy pair of fae were moving to a better seat. Unless their plan is more sinister. Trying to maintain my already feeble smile, I watched the couple’s slow progress.

Mrs. Greene finally noticed the shifting and backward stares around her and tore her gaze from her daughter. I could see only the edge of the dirty glare she shot at them, but I was glad I wasn’t the one on the receiving end. She stood without a word, the picture of poise as she silently but purposefully moved to the aisle and intercepted the fae. I could catch only the hiss of her voice, not her words, but while her gestures were contained to a tight box in front of her body, they were sharp, betraying not so hidden anger.

The fae ignored her. The hobgoblin pulled something from inside his jacket pocket. I still had my shields cracked, so I had to squint to figure out that the crumbling object was some manner of reed pipe. He lifted it to his thick lips like it was some sort of instrument. I seriously doubted music would be what emerged.

“Get down,” I yelled, grabbing Holly’s arm and dragging her to the ground with me as I took my own advice.

A moment later a small dart flew silently through the spot I’d been standing seconds before.

Someone in the crowd screamed and wooden chairs creaked and toppled, as people rushed out of their seats. Tamara moved as though she would run to Holly and me, but Ethan grabbed her arm and rushed up into the relative safety of the gazebo. I was thankful for that. Goodness knew there was no cover where Holly and I crouched in the grass.

“We’ve got to move,” I said, but other than the gazebo, there was no cover anywhere near us.

Holly seemed to realize the same thing, because without a word, she turned and crawled toward the wooden structure. I followed, the grass damp through the thin material covering my knees. With Holly in the lead, I needed only to pay marginal attention to where I was going, leaving most of my attention free to watch the two fae.

The hobgoblin reloaded his blowgun, his large fingers fumbling with the small dart. The woman was otherwise engaged, primarily with Mrs. Greene. Now that her daughter’s wedding was well and truly interrupted, she’d lost any pretense of civility toward the two fae and was now cursing, loudly. Not bad words mind you, but a true curse. The kind that made the Aetheric swirl around her, giving her curse power.

I was still a foot away from the gazebo when the hobgoblin lifted the blowgun to his lips. I cringed, an instinct that did nothing to help me get to cover sooner. Thankfully, while I may not have thought it necessary to wear my dagger under my bridesmaid dress, many of Tamara’s guests were on the police force, and they’d had no such compunction against carrying their service weapons.

The hobgoblin’s small red eyes flickered to the crowd of off-duty cops as a half dozen officers drew on him. It wasn’t much of a distraction, but it was enough for me to dive behind the gazebo.

“You okay?” Holly asked, leaning down to help me to my feet.

I nodded, turning to peer back around the edge of the gazebo while staying as covered by the structure and glowing flowers as possible. I’d missed only a moment, but in that time the scene had changed. The two fae were running from the wedding now. I could see them clearly, but then I was still peering across planes of existence. Judging by the fact the cops had lowered their weapons and were looking around in all directions, I guessed the fae had glamoured themselves invisible.

Once the two fae vanished through the arch and across the park, I stepped out from behind the gazebo. Chairs had been knocked over on both sides of the aisle, and nearly half the wedding guests had fled. Holly and I both had grass stains on our knees, and Tamara’s bouquet looked the worse for wear where it lay forgotten at the steps of the gazebo. Mrs. Greene fluttered around, trying to put things back in order, but even if most of the guests returned, I seriously doubted this wedding would continue.

I surveyed the chaos and guilt clawed at me like daggers sinking into my guts. Was this my fault? Had the bogeymen been targeting me? It seemed likely. They had appeared to be able to see me. And whatever the man had shot from his blowgun had been aimed at the bridal party, of which I was a part. But I wasn’t the only bridesmaid. Still, who else here had recently taken a trip to Faerie, questioned shades who’d died from drugs distributed by fae, or left her card at the Bloom after asking questions? I wasn’t sure which action had gotten me noticed, but it certainly seemed I’d gotten someone’s attention.