Deadly Sin (Cassandra Farbanks) (2 page)

That was two weeks ago. The parcel had not arrived and nobody would take responsibility for losing it. Not the sender, the mail carrier who swore it was delivered, nor my assistant who swore it was not. The life-sized clockwork doll, Trinket, still worked for me. I depended on her and would miss her come next year when she began her tour of Europe, beginning in France. I was used to having her around. Also, I would have to do my own cooking and cleaning again. I sighed and the other bridesmaid shot me a look that reminded me of where I was. Lost in my own thoughts, I missed several hymns, which I didn’t know the words to anyway, and we were on to the vows.

I could see LeBron’s hand shaking ever so slightly as he tried remembering what to repeat and guided the ring onto her finger at the same time. He vibrated nervous, excited energy that he just about hid from the humans. I remember a time when that would have included me, but now I see as much as any preternatural being can. I turned my gaze away from the happy couple to look out across the room and pick out faces I knew from the crowd. I saw Simian Urquhart, a prominent member of the werewolf community, sitting with his wife Sophie and their two children. Zoe, my four year old goddaughter in her best dress, sat on her mother’s lap and stared wide-eyed at the bride. Jack, their son who had inherited the wolf gene, sat and tugged at his suit collar while playing on a PlayStation Portable with the sound turned off. Near them, I saw another familiar werewolf. David Jacob Tanner, “DJ” for short, looked like a buff Jude Law. Handsome and smart, he owned a bar and was the community’s head of security. DJ needed to replace his main deputy after an attempted coup right under his nose, but most of his staff couldn’t handle the job. I suggested he hire from outside the community to bring in someone qualified for the position. Tensions were high and newcomers were not welcomed. The bitten Were coup was still a touchy subject. A tiny part of me was glad that LeBron chose to live outside the community gates, its own city within a city like the Vatican, only with werewolves. He still ran with the pack on full moons, but really had to hold his own, despite both Simian and DJ vouching for him.

Feeling my eyes on him, DJ turned his head minutely and fully gazed on me. Like any man who smiles at a woman he likes, he mouthed, “Nice dress”. Reading his lips so clearly from a distance showed how much my senses had changed. I wanted to give him the finger, but because there were kids in the room, I kept my hands around the bouquet and only poked out the tip of my tongue. He chuckled while I continued looking over the guests. I was quite surprised when I recognized another two faces. Samantha Rourke and Benjamin Hodgeson were the head of LeBron’s unit and his immediate superior, respectfully. Rourke reminded me of a gazelle that had mated with a rhino. With graceful features she was elegant, but built. She had the widest shoulders I’d ever seen on a woman and was one of the tallest I’d ever met. Her severe, blonde bob was tucked behind one ear and she actually wore mascara, shadow and lipstick. She wore a gold silk blouse tucked into black slacks and a jacket that matched the pants slung over her lap. Like me, she was a girl who didn’t really like wearing dresses, but that was where things we had in common ended. Ben had on a navy suit, blue shirt and yellow tie. Like LeBron, they worked for PCU – Preternatural Crime Unit. They dealt with supernatural cases. Rourke hated “supes” and wanted out of the unit badly. She tried everything to get herself in good with those that could make it happen. Her main problem was that she wouldn’t play fair and take both sides of the street. If a supe committed a crime against a human, she was the wrath of God. If a human committed a crime against a supe, she just didn’t care. The monsters could take care of themselves. Then the audit came. Audits weren’t just about money. They could also be about performance. PCU had a lot of cases, and most of the closed ones I had a hand in. LeBron let slip that Rourke filed reports from preternatural victims. If she was smart, she would have marked them closed, or better yet, investigated them. She didn’t. It left a mass of red tape lying around for the inspector to find. There was also a stack of complaints that didn’t please the upper brass. Some were filed against the whole unit and some against individuals within the unit. Rourke did nothing about any of them. She didn’t care about being fair or liked. There was a debate about whether it would be better to just have a preternatural expert per unit instead. Rourke was bothered that the unit might shut down. Not because it would close, but because it would fail on her watch. It wouldn’t bode well for her career.

I was surprised that they came to this wedding knowing what the bride was. Ben especially, was incapable of keeping his stupid opinions to himself. I hoped LeBron kept an eye on his alcohol consumption at the reception. Alcohol could make a genius fall to the level Ben was sober.

There was a sharp poke to my side and the other bridesmaid gave me an “eyes front” look. I glared at her a warning not to do that again, but faced forward just in time to see the kiss.

I always found it voyeuristic watching another couple kiss – like I should turn my head away in case they see me watching. In a church it was different. There was something binding about that kiss – something that had to be witnessed. He cradled her face in his hands, leaning in at an angle and gently pressing his lips to hers. It was a soft and chaste kiss appropriate for church. As they turned to their guests, I could see her eyes fluttering and she seemed a little dazed. I felt better about their marriage now. Brie really loved him, I could tell after that kiss. A knot in the center of my body eased and I remembered the proceedings in time to follow them up the aisle. The rest of the daylight hours were a blur of poses and flash bulbs, taking picture after picture in the church yard, and then driving to the reception at the Pear Tree at Smythe. I climbed into the back of Simian’s Ford focus. A muted blue color, it needed a wash. Zoe, unable to sit in my lap for the journey slipped her tiny hand into mine, letting me know I was one of her favorite people in the world.

The Pear Tree is a traditional, country hotel set on twenty acres of lawns, gardens and lakes. The long, winding driveway went up and behind the main building to the carpark and entrance to the Bartlett Suite. It was a very large room with a square dance floor in the middle and small, circular tables clustered around it. The floral centers of bright yellow flowers and white carnations were tied with silk ribbon and bows. Even the chairs had gold bows looped around them. A platform at the back and behind a curtain was set up for a disc jockey later. The head table was set up just in front of it at the edge of the dancefloor. Little name cards were placed to show where we should each sit or you could refer to the framed chart on an easel by the door. The bar at the back looked fully stocked and ready for the ensuing merriment. Doors opposite from the entrance opened onto a grey stone terrace before a garden stretching out towards the horizen. Guests murmured how lovely it was as I joined the greeting line next to the bride and groom. It wasn’t my wedding so I wasn’t clear on why I was a greeter, but I stood and shook hands politely. Not everyone came through the line. I notice Rourke and Ben didn’t. They hovered in the doorway till they thought everyone was distracted enough for them to slip by, but I saw them. I wondered why LeBron invited them and why they showed up.

The meal was nice, chicken in a nondescript sauce, roast potatoes and greens. It went down well, but soon we were at the part of the wedding I’d been dreading – the speeches. I watched LeBron turn shades of crimson as his father told stories about him. He was so very proud of his son. His sister smiled at him, knowing his pain. She had dark hair just like LeBron and their father, but eyes like the woman next to her. Their mother was very slim and tall with short, medium brown hair. Her daughter was like her and just a few years older than me. She was introduced to me as Cecily in the line, but from the way she wrinkled her nose, I guessed it wasn’t what people called her or what she preferred. I thought it brave to sit the ex-wife at the same table as their father’s current girlfriend. A complete opposite to her, Tammy was a curvacious, short woman spilling over with bubbly energy, and her clothes. She was one of those women who said “big is beautiful”. I agreed, but she didn’t wear clothes that complimented her shape. She wore popular brands that didn’t go bigger than a sixteen, so that’s what she squeezed herself into. The woman was not a sixteen. I heard two of the groomsmen bet whether or not the dress would hold till the end of the reception. LeBron’s mother, by comparison, wore a lavender pants suit with a white t-shirt underneath. I thought it made her look macho, especially her flat shoes. Then again, I suppose she didn’t need the heels as she was tall enough. LeBron mentioned she was a detective working further south.

Cecily wore a dress the same shade as her mother’s suit. A-lined and very nice, it was something I couldn’t wear with my boobs but hers were small and pert. The kind a lot of men favored. I shook my head trying to get my mind back on track. When I swung my head I caught sight of the woman on my right.

The other bridesmaid, Brie’s cousin Candy, was petite, curvy and blonde like her. She was human, although both her mom and brother were shifters of the same strain as Brie. Got to love that genetic lottery. Candy’s brother, Clark, was one of the groomsmen. His brown hair hinted that he was once as blonde as his sister when he was younger. I smiled a little brighter at him remembering our first meeting.

I’d controlled my giggling until Candy told the coordinator no dessert for her as she was diabetic. I knew I shouldn’t laugh, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the names of the siblings, Candy and Clark Barr, and excused myself from the room. LeBron found me bent double in the corridor laughing so hard tears leaked from the corners of my eyes. She hadn’t liked me much since then.

She jabbed me in the ribs just then and I realized eyes were on me. It was my turn. LeBron had asked me to make a speech. I wrote something down, but it sounded wrong so I’d decided to wing it. I had no idea what would come out of my mouth until I opened it. I took a deep breath, stood and cleared my throat.

“When I first met Michael, I wasn’t sure I was going to like him.” Brie shot me a scathing look, but LeBron looked patient, so trusting. “I didn’t know what kind of man he was – the kind that took the word of others as Gospel or one who could think for himself and see what was really going on around him.” I took a deep breath and turned to face the couple. “But he soon showed me he was a kind, decent, brave man with a lot of heart. We’ve been through some shii…” I bit my lip and quickly covered my bad language. “Stuff together and he’s always gotten my back. I came to trust him and am proud to call him my friend. When he met Brie,” I said and she went still as I said her name. “I’ve never seen him so happy. It was like watching two pieces of a whole come together to be complete and I wish them all the happiness life can bring.” I raised my glass, signifying the end of my speech with a toast, and abruptly sat down again. Candy leaned into me.

“Did you actually mean any of that?” I took a sip from my glass and gave her serious eyes.

“I don’t bother saying things that I don’t mean.” I let her chew on that for a little while.

The head table was moved as the room was tidied up for the evening party. Zoe ran into my arms. I held her with one arm as she straddled my hip and we walked over to join her family. Simian smiled and kissed the top of my head.

“Nice speech.”

“I did my best.” Simian always made me feel like one of his family. Sometimes, I got the impression that he saw me as his third child, which was both sweet and irksome at the same time.

“You did good,” said Sophie, sliding her daughter free of her limpet like attachment to me. I looked around for Jack who’d located another boy about his age and was talking to him excitedly about some game for his PlayStation Portable.

“At least I didn’t say anything about the dress from custard hell.” I messed about with the skirt as I looked down at the floor.

“I don’t think it looks that bad on you,” said a very masculine voice from behind me. His hand rested on my back and I could feel the incredible warmth of that hand. It radiated along my entire body.

“That’s because your fashion retarded,” I bit back. DJ laughed. He had a very good, masculine laugh. I turned to look at him. He looked at me far too intimately, like he’d seen me naked. Well, he had, sort of. I’d covered up for the most part, and it was an entirely unerotic circumstance. DJ wanted me, I knew that. I’d known for months now and was very good at pushing his advances away. I’d had a lot of practice. I couldn’t, however, control the way my body reacted when he touched me. He was so handsome, but also a possessive, macho dick. Part of it was from being a werewolf, and some of it was just him. He wanted to date me exclusively, but I didn’t want that with him. I was still involved with the vampire Aram, but DJ wouldn’t take no for an answer. He thought if he could get me to sleep with him that my resistance would crumble. Aram knew better than that. I promised him that I wouldn’t sleep with anyone else until I offically cut the cord between us. Because I wasn’t actively dating Aram, DJ thought I was territory to be explored and conquered. I warned that if I ever found him scent marking my building, he’d lose his favorite appendage. It didn’t make him any less keen. His hand moved from my back and slid down my left arm.

“Hows the arm?”

“As good as its ever been.” I was tempted to hit him in the gut with it just to show him how well it was. I’d dislocated my shoulder and broken my radius and ulna when a wall fell on me at the beginning of summer. I say fallen, but I mean pushed by one pissed off madame. It healed in a matter of days but I wore the sling the doctor had given me for a full six weeks. I didn’t want people knowing that I wasn’t human, and DJ called me a coward for it. It was my secret and I would decide who knew and when. I was still adjusting to being different, which was one of the reasons I wasn’t dating anyone.