Dark Light (10 page)

Sierra narrowed her eyes. “If the word
vampire
appears in that headline, I promise you, there will be vengeance.”

“I dunno,” Kay said seriously, “sounds like a grabber to me.”

Simon was just stepping out of the elevator when they emerged from the ladies' room.

“Great,” he said. “You waited for me.” He offered Sierra his arm and gave her a surprisingly graceful little bow. “Allow me to escort the bride.”

“Thank you,” she said.

The staff in the registrar's office was in a state of near-giddy excitement. Guild bosses were always high profile, and Fontana qualified as a celebrity. The fact that the crew of the
Curtain
had shown up to cover the wedding heightened the thrill factor for everyone. Phil took pictures as fast as he could rez his camera.

Elvis also created a small sensation.

“Look at the little dust bunny,” a clerk cooed. “Isn't he just the cutest thing?”

“That little cape is absolutely adorable,” another staff member said.

Never one to miss a moment in the spotlight, Elvis posed on the counter.

“No offense,” Kay muttered to Sierra, “but he looks better than you do.”

“Well, sure,” Sierra said. “He's Elvis.”

There was more paperwork than she had expected, and now that the adrenaline had worn off, she was starting to feel the bruising from her fall. Her left arm and shoulder were going to be very colorful in the morning.

When she had to tear up one of the forms because she'd put down her old address in Resonance instead of her new one in Crystal, she realized she was grinding her teeth.

She could not help but notice that Fontana did not appear to be having any difficulties with his forms. No do-overs for a Guild boss.

Eventually they got to the final stretch. The judge introduced herself as Maryann Partridge and, like the registrar's staff, seemed absolutely delighted to perform the civil ceremony for the new Guild chief.

Using the buzz of conversation as cover, Sierra leaned over to whisper in Kay's ear.

“Why is everyone acting as if this is some kind of major romantic event?” she asked. “These people do Marriages of Convenience day in and day out. They know better than anyone that they're nothing more than short-term affairs dignified by some legal trappings.”

Kay looked genuinely shocked. “That's not true. They're real weddings.”

Sierra started to argue but stopped when she realized that a hush had fallen over the room and that everyone was looking at her.

Kay scooped up Elvis and held him as though he were a bridal bouquet while Judge Partridge launched into the ceremony.

“If I may have the rings,” Partridge said brightly.

Sierra started violently. She had not given any thought to rings. Traditionally, silver rings were used in Marriages of Convenience. Gold was reserved for Covenant Marriages.

“I don't have a ring,” she said.

Fontana seemed briefly amused by her anxiety.

“I have one,” he said.

He removed his black and amber seal ring. She watched, a little shocked, as he slipped it onto her finger. It was much too big and far too heavy. Automatically, she closed her hand very tightly so that it wouldn't fall off.

Just a Marriage of Convenience. Don't panic
.

The list of vows was shorter, more succinct, and a good deal less binding than those spoken at the more lengthy Covenant Marriage service. They were also a lot more businesslike. Nevertheless, Sierra got a small chill when she listened to herself repeat them to Fontana.

“I promise to remain faithful so long as we both are bound by this agreement . . .

“I promise to honor and respect our commitment to each other so long as we both are bound by this agreement . . .

“I understand that all worldly goods that belong to me prior to this agreement are my sole possessions and will remain my sole possessions when this agreement is ended . . .

“I understand that if a child is born of this union, that this agreement will immediately become a full and binding Covenant Marriage agreement subject to all the laws and regulations pertaining thereunto . . .”

At last it was over. Sierra took a deep breath. She felt a trifle unsteady and not because of her broken heel. What in the world had she just done for the sake of the story of the decade?

“You may kiss the bride,” Judge Partridge announced, beaming at Fontana.

Sierra felt all the air leave her lungs.
Should have seen that coming
.

It was too late to figure out a polite way to finesse the situation. The relentlessly cheerful crowd expected the traditional conclusion to the wedding ceremony. Fontana was already pulling her into his arms.

At his touch, she went still. The exciting whispers of energy that she had been trying to suppress suddenly flared into an intoxicating rush. A shiver of anticipation swept through her. This intense reaction was crazy. It was the result of the aftereffects of all the excitement. There was no other explanation.

Amusement and a shocking, mesmerizing heat gleamed in his eyes.

“Brace yourself, my dear, and think of Earth,” he whispered for her ears alone.

The old joke elicited an unexpected burble of laughter from somewhere inside her.

And then he was kissing her, a slow, drugging, claim-staking kiss that slammed all of her senses into overdrive. She forgot that they had an audience. His mouth was the best thing she had ever tasted in her entire life, and she wanted more, a lot more. He responded by tightening his grip on her, crushing her against the broad, solid wall of his chest.

Sparkling thrills chased down her spine. Deliciously hot currents swirled. Liquid warmth pooled deep inside her. Somewhere out on the paranormal plane, energy flashed. Her psychic intuition did the happy dance.

Applause and cheering broke out, shattering the crystalline aura of intimacy into a million fragments. Reality came crashing back.

Dazed, Sierra opened her eyes. She was still pressed tightly against Fontana, but he was no longer kissing her.

“You can let him go now, Sierra,” Phil called loudly. “I've got plenty of good shots.”

Laughter splashed through the registrar's office.

She was stunned to discover that her arms had somehow wound themselves around Fontana's neck. She was holding on to him as though she were lost in the catacombs and he was her amber compass, as if she dared not let him go for fear of being lost forever.

Mortified, she released him and took a hasty step back, grabbing the edge of the counter to steady herself on her broken pump.

Immediately the hunters moved in on Fontana to shake his hand.

“Congratulations, sir,” Simon said. “You're getting a real gutsy lady here. Good choice for a Guild boss's wife.”

“And she can cook,” Jeff added helpfully. “Wait until you try her chocolate chip cookies.”

Fontana winked at Sierra. “I'll look forward to the experience.”

He seemed more relaxed now that the business had been concluded. Fontana was not what anyone would call a jubilant bridegroom, Sierra thought, but he was definitely less grim. She groped for the right word and finally found it. He looked
satisfied
, the way a chess player would be after making an important move in a complicated strategy. In spite of the stress and the disorientation produced by the sizzling kiss, her intuition took note.

Coaxing her into this fake marriage had been important to him, perhaps even more important than she had realized. It was enough to make her wonder if maybe he had not told her everything concerning his plan for them to work as a team. The possibility that he considered her a useful pawn, not an equal partner, was disturbing. It was also infuriating.

Kay led the small group out of the registrar's office and down the stairs.

“Listen up, everyone,” she announced when they reached the lobby “You're all invited back to the offices of the
Curtain
. It's not every day someone on the staff gets married. We're going to party. We've got cheap bubbly. We've got cheap food. We've got balloons.”

“Are you inviting us, too?” Simon asked, angling his chin at Mitch, Jeff, and Andy.

“Of course,” Kay said. She spread her arms wide. “You're all invited. Can't let a member of the
Curtain
get married without a major celebration.”

Sierra glanced at Fontana, waiting for him to make some excuse to avoid the party. What would it be? she wondered.
Got to get back to the office. Got a late meeting. Got a dinner engagement with the mayor. Got a date with the woman I'm sleeping with.

For some reason that last possibility robbed the moment of all amusement.

Fontana's mouth curved faintly, as though he knew precisely what she was thinking.

“Sounds like a great idea,” he said, his eyes on Sierra. “A man ought to celebrate his own wedding.”

A LONG TIME LATER, SIERRA SAW FONTANA CHECK HIS watch. She had glanced at the clock on the wall a couple of minutes ago and knew that it was going on nine o'clock. Unfortunately, the
Curtain
's version of a blowout wedding reception was in full swing and showed no signs of abating. In fact, it had taken on a life of its own after Classifieds had sent out for more beer and Marketing ordered in a second round of pizza.

Sierra was sitting behind her desk, elbows propped on the surface, her chin resting on her hands. Fontana lounged against the side, arms folded. He had asked her to dance earlier, but she had demurred on the twin grounds of the broken heel and incipient bruises. He had not pressed her.

The newsroom was draped in paper streamers and balloons. The trash cans beside each desk were crammed with empty bottles of cheap Spectrum Sparkling Wine, used paper plates, and napkins. The remains of a large, square cake sat on Kay's desk. The letters
HAP
from the originally inscribed
Happy Birthday George
were still visible. Kay had explained earlier that due to the extremely short notice, there had been no wedding cakes available at the bakery.

The rez-rock music blasting from the sound system had been cranked up to the point of pain. Desks had been pushed back to make room for the dancers. The lyrics of a current hit song blared forth.

 

 

Her four friends from the Green Gate were all happily drunk. Andy was dancing with Liz, the curvy blonde who was Runtley's assistant. Ray Takashima and Kay were talking quietly in the corner. They both appeared completely absorbed in each other. Mitch and Jeff were regaling Phil Trager and the gang from Subscription Services with tales of their old glory days working ghost light down in the catacombs. Matt was finishing off the last bottle of Green Ruin beer. He had long ago abandoned the use of a paper cup.

“Probably not every woman's dream of a wedding reception,” Fontana said, studying the scene.

“It was very nice of my friends to throw a party for us,” she said, immediately defensive.

Fontana nodded, surprising her. “Yes, it was.”

Elvis chose that moment to float past at eye level. Rezzed up on the coffee and cake that he had been sucking down all evening, he was clearly enjoying himself.

“Got a feeling I'm going to be investing heavily in balloons from now on,” Sierra said.

“Looks like the bunny was born to fly,” Fontana agreed.

Shortly after the second round of cheap wine, Mitch and Phil had hit upon the bright idea of getting Elvis airborne. The plan had involved a light cardboard tray designed to carry paper coffee cups and several of the helium-filled balloons that Kay had brought in to help decorate the newsroom.

The contraption had proved airworthy. Elvis had hopped into the makeshift basket, chortling in delight. With his small weight the miniature airship levitated gently to a height of about six feet off the floor. Delighted with the view from his new vantage point, he had spent most of the evening floating regally among the revelers.

Elvis chortled. Fontana obligingly sent him sailing off in a new direction. Elvis was practically beside himself with glee.

“Something tells me no one is going to miss the bride and groom if we leave,” Fontana said.

“I think you're right.” Sierra got to her feet. “It's been a long day. To tell you the truth, I'm surprised you hung around as long as you did tonight. It was very nice of you.”

His jaw tightened, and his eyes narrowed faintly in response to her polite thanks.

“It's my wedding, too, remember?” he said.

She felt the heat rise in her face. “Well, yes, but since it's not a real wedding, I guess I just assumed you'd leave earlier. This can't be a Guild boss's idea of a good time.”

“Shows how much you know about my private life.” He straightened from the desk. “I'll get your coat.”

“I'll get Elvis.”

Elvis allowed himself to be plucked from the balloon's basket and tucked under her arm. When she turned, she saw Fontana waiting at the door with her coat. She thought they might make it out into the hall without anyone noticing, but luck ran out. A shout went up just as Fontana's hand curved around the doorknob.

“They're leaving,” Matt announced in a loud voice. “Anyone got rice?”

“No rice,” Simon said, “but no worries. We hunters use a different kind of send-off on occasions like this. Isn't that right, guys?”

“Damn right,” Jeff declared, the words a little slurred. “This is a Guild wedding. Tradition must be followed.”