Vampire Dragon (22 page)
“Are you finished fighting with yourself now, my Bronte?”
“You should know that I can be weak
and
stubborn.”
and
stubborn.”
“I think I knew that.” He offered her his arm. “Wedding anyone?”
“Don’t say you haven’t been warned.”
“I never will.”
They stepped outside, arm in arm, and the carousel music began. “Smile, Smile, Smile,” came the Wurlitzer organ recording. “Pack up your troubles . . . and smile . . .”
If only she were certain this wedding wouldn’t make all their troubles that much worse.
TWENTY-NINE
Bronte screamed when they got outside, and Darkwyn
went on alert, until his bride threw herself into the arms of the woman waiting to marry them.
went on alert, until his bride threw herself into the arms of the woman waiting to marry them.
“Vickie, you’re our high priestess?”
“Surprise!” Vickie said, embracing his bride a second time.
“Darkwyn.” Bronte took his hand. “Vickie is one of my dearest friends. This is her husband, Rory MacKenzie. He carved our mythical carousel figures.”
Darkwyn shook hands with the husband of the high priestess, not pretending to understand the rules of this place, this Salem, where he landed, just happy to have Bronte in it.
“My sisters,” Vickie said, “insist on giving you a wedding reception at Paxton Castle on a date to be determined, with Melody, Kira, Vivica, all their families, and Darkwyn’s.”
Bronte bit her lip, her eyes bright.
Lots of emotion at a wedding
, Darkwyn thought.
, Darkwyn thought.
“How kind,” Bronte said, her voice wobbly.
Vickie arranged him and his bride to stand side by side facing the water while lightning played over the cove—a reminder of Killian’s power, of her hold on him—maybe on Bronte, too, with them married.
As Vickie prepared to begin the wedding ceremony, Darkwyn held up a hand. “A minute,” he said, pulling Bronte from the center of their guests and toward the carousel. “Killian, my enemy, I just realized, will likely become yours, now, too, if we marry. You have to know that before we take another step.”
Bronte cupped his cheek. “An even playing field, both of us with dangerous baggage. I suppose we could join forces and fight our enemies side by side.”
“As it is meant to be,” Darkwyn said.
“Destiny,” she agreed. “I have never been surer.”
They returned to stand before Victoria Cartwright MacKenzie, high priestess.
Enhanced winds brought a swirl of autumn leaves that appeared to bless them with a wash of color like confetti.
Scorch sat in a tree not too far distant and hissed when Darkwyn glanced her way.
Lila, on the other hand, stood between them wearing a collar of glistening flowers. And why they glistened, Darkwyn had no idea. Unless . . . Andra, Sorceress of Hope, chose to inhabit the lilac point for her stay on earth, as Andra had come as the faery Dewcup to Bastian. It followed that she could have chosen a cat because Killian did. He might never know for certain, but, in this case, Lila’s, or Andra’s, location and stance at this crucial time could be a matter of seeing them through the ceremony and protecting them from Killian’s tricks.
Almost on cue, as if the kitten read his thoughts—which Andra could—she meowed and licked a paw. Well, if his white magick sorceress guardian was using that cat as a guise, she was not giving herself away.
Victoria straightened, her full-length gold robe reminding him of Roman royalty. In his honor, Darkwyn imagined, she wore ancient gold dragon jewelry, and in Bronte’s, she donned a gold mask before opening her book. “Let us begin.”
Puck, on a branch well above Scorch, fluffed his feathers. “Marriage,” the bird squawked. “The state or condition of a community consisting of a master, a mistress, and two slaves, making in all, two.”
Vickie raised her head toward the bird, and blinked. After that, Puck’s beak worked but no sound emerged.
“Darkwyn,” the high priestess said, “please raise Bronte’s veil.”
Darkwyn did, wishing he could remove her mask as well, but he pushed negativity aside. If a mask added to her comfort and security, so be it. “Wait,” he said, requesting his gold mask from Zachary and putting it on. “A mask for the Master Vampire to show his bride that he accepts her in every way.”
Bronte grabbed his hand and squeezed.
What did she really mean by the “mob,” the “mafia,” and so forth
? he wondered, planning to look on the computer, later. After the honeymoon.
? he wondered, planning to look on the computer, later. After the honeymoon.
At Vivica’s suggestion, he wore his tux, without the cape, while his bride looked gorgeous, as always, and lovable and kissable and—
Later.
He would think about that later.
He would think about that later.
He took Zachary’s hand and brought the boy to stand beside them. “You belong here. We’re family now.”
Zachary’s nod revealed a vulnerability Darkwyn had never seen, as if a true twelve-year-old peeked through. After the ceremony, he would talk to the boy and clarify his plan to make life better for all of them.
Colored lights behind them, and lightning claws before them, almost dancing above Cat Cove, made the ceremony memorable and blessed, despite the threat, which Killian the evil sorceress must despise.
As Vickie spoke about the depth of their commitment, a short-lived spray of rain brought the moon from behind the clouds to reveal an evening rainbow, brighter with lightning—odd that—while the mist glistened like stars and dissipated so fast, they stayed dry. Magick, no doubt—enough magick to make a grown dragon shiver in his man shoes. Enchantment all around, from Andra or Lila, or even Bronte, or Victoria the high priestess.
The lightning danced closer, until Lila the kitten stood on two feet, turned in a circle between them, and the bright threat dropped back, far into the distance.
Scorch hissed and circled their legs, but Lila hissed, too, showed her claws, and Scorch howled and ran.
Darkwyn turned his attention to the ceremony.
Every interruption, whether white magick or black, or somewhere in between, made him fear this wedding would never take place.
Worry not, my Darkwyn
, came a telepathic comment. Andra!
, came a telepathic comment. Andra!
You will have your heart mate. It lies only with you as to how long you can keep her.
THIRTY
How long he could keep her. The words echoed in Dark
wyn’s head and put an ache in his heart as, with a trembling hand, he slipped a ring swirled with diamonds on Bronte’s finger.
wyn’s head and put an ache in his heart as, with a trembling hand, he slipped a ring swirled with diamonds on Bronte’s finger.
A ring bought with part of the proceeds from the raw diamond he’d brought from the Island of Stars. For the necessities, according to Vivica. He would have picked a plainer ring but he appreciated her purchase on his behalf. “The ring is nearly as beautiful as its wearer,” he whispered, knuckling Bronte’s cheek.
What mattered was their marriage, not their possessions. He did not want to become a human collector of objects. He would rather collect people. Friends. Family. Like his brothers and their heart mates, and most important, Bronte and Zachary. Perhaps even children of their own . . . if he could manage to keep her.
He would move heaven and earth, do everything and anything in his power to keep her, he vowed.
No longer trembling, but comforted by the prospect of their future together, he looked into Bronte’s violet eyes before he spoke the words that would unite them, husband and wife for eternity. He meant each from the bottom of his heart. But Bronte’s eyes overflowed.
“This cannot be good. Do not cry,” Darkwyn whispered, bending to kiss his bride’s tears away.
“I’m crying from happiness,” she responded, a chuckle rattling through her raspy words.
He kissed her ear. “Is that not human contrariness? ‘Crying from happiness?’ ”
“Yes,” she said, letting him dab at her tears with a tissue from Vivica.
“Still, give me the honor of claiming your happy tears,” he said. “There. All dry. Now, say the words that will make you mine.”
She spoke them, and beautifully, her eyes bright with joy. He said nothing because his throat seemed clogged with
her
tears. How odd.
her
tears. How odd.
“By the power vested in me by the State of Massachusetts and the Life Wisdom Circle of Salem, Massachusetts, and Caperglen, Scotland, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
Guests and fairgrounds workers applauded, and the Bite Me chef produced a wedding cake, as people surrounded them with congratulations. They accepted thanks, shook hands, hugged, and Darkwyn made new friends.
“I never imagined you could make it so special, Vivica,” Bronte said, “and to have Vickie officiate when I didn’t know she was home from Scotland. Well, it was perfect.”
“And so will your Paxton Castle reception be as soon as you’re ready,” Vickie said. “Harmony, Destiny, and Storm forced my promise to make you agree.”
Bronte slipped her hand in his, Darkwyn noticed. “We agree,” she said. “Don’t we, Darkwyn?”
Bastian laughed. “She’s already speaking for you, brother.” His McKenna, smiling, too, shoved his arm.
“We agree with thanks,” Darkwyn said, planning to look up the meaning of “reception.”
Zachary whispered something in Bronte’s ear, and she nodded. “Absolutely.” She removed her hand from Darkwyn’s as easily as she’d placed it there. “This is a celebration after all. I’d love to see the two of you go up together.”
Zachary slipped his hands in his pockets and toed the dirt like a real kid. “Darkwyn, do you want to come for a ride on the coffin wheel with me? I always personally escort VIPs.”
“Is that another word for vampire?”
Zachary chuckled. “It means: very important people.”
Ah, a gesture of welcome and acceptance from Zachary without the proud boy having to speak the words. “I’d be honored to ride your invention with you.”
They got on the coffin wheel with Zachary explaining that he’d turned twenty eco-caskets into seats for up to four people each, to conform to amusement ride codes. “Real caskets would have been too heavy and we couldn’t have fit them properly with crash bars.”
“I see.” Darkwyn did not miss a word, because he had the sense that the boy had something of great import to impart and not only about this modified amusement ride.
“When Bronte called you back to the house right before the service, I figure she told you about Sanguedolce and the mob, right? I knew she couldn’t bring you into the circle of fear—by that I mean, we have targets on our backs— without giving you a chance to run. She’s worried about you. She warned you away, didn’t she?”
“She did. For my own safety, she wanted to let me go.”
“She wasn’t kidding. They’re killers, you know.”
“Why are they after you? You and Bronte are family, are you not?”
Zachary chuckled. “Everybody is family to the mob except, maybe, relatives. I became one of them, twice, both times as a child.”
Darkwyn tilted his head, and Zachary held up a staying hand, so Darkwyn held the many questions tumbling around in his head.
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