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"TACKY"
copyright © 2006 by Charlaine Harris.
I'm going because I can't believe I've lived to see it," Dahlia said. "Also, I'm a
bridesmaid, which is an honor. I have an obligation." She widened her eyes at her
companion, to emphasize the point. She had big green eyes, so it was a vivid
effect.
Glenda Shore choked on her sip of synthetic blood. "You're kidding," she said
faintly. "You think this is an honor? Well, bite me. Being a bridesmaid means we
have to mingle with the nasty things. Like that party tonight, at the Were bar. Taffy
called me specially, but I put her off. I won't do it! It's bad enough, all the teasing
I've gotten. Maisie called me 'Fur Lover'; Thomas Pickens gives wolf howls
whenever he sees me. It's just humiliating."
Dahlia gave her head a practiced toss to flip her long wavy black hair back over
her shoulders. She glanced down to make sure her strapless burgundy cocktail
dress was still in place. There was a line between being adorably provocative and
simply tacky. Dahlia was an expert at treading that line.
"I've known Taffy for maybe a couple hundred years," Dahlia said quietly. "I
feel that I have to go through with this." She kept her voice casual; she didn't want
to sound smugly superior. Glenda hadn't even been alive that longor
dead, rather.
Neither had the other two females Taffy had asked to act as bridesmaids.
Glenda was a very young vampire, a flatchested
flapper who'd been turned
during the Al Capone era in Chicago. To Dahlia's distaste, Glenda still liked
wearing clothes reminiscent of the ones she'd worn while she was living. Tonight
she was wearing a cloche hat. Conspicuous.
Oh, sure, it was legal to be a vampire now that the synthetic blood marketed by
the Japanese had proven to satisfy the nutritional needs of the undead. But there
was more to surviving as a vamp than slugging down TrueBlood or Red Stuff in
allnight
bars that catered strictly to vamps, like this one. There were pockets of
humans who snatched vamps off the streets and drained their blood to sell on the
black market.
There were other cults who simply wanted vamps dead because they'd decided
vamps were evil bloodsucking
fiends.
You had to learn discretion.
Besides various fringe groups of humans, you had to add to the list of vampire
haters the Werewolves, whose ongoing feud with the undead occasionally flared
into outandout
war. Thinking of Weres brought Dahlia back to the subject at
hand, her friend Taffy's wedding.
"Taffy and I nested together for a decade in Mexico," Dahlia said. "We were
quite close. We went through the War of 1812 together; nothing cements a
relationship like going through a war. And we've nested together at Cedric's for the
past, oh, twenty years?"
"Where could Taffy have met such a creature?" Glenda asked, fingering the
long, long string of pearls that dangled to her waist. Her eyes glinted with relish.
This was as much fun as discussing a previously unencountered sexual perversion.
Dahlia beckoned to the bartender. "Taffy was always . . . adventurous. She lived
with a regular human for ten years, once."
Glenda looked pleasurably horrified. "Do you think she'll wear white?" Glenda
asked. "And our bridesmaid dresses... I bet we'll have pink ruffles."
"Why would it be pink ruffles?" Dahlia's mouth was suddenly pressed in a grim
line. Dahlia took her clothes very, very, seriously.
"You know what they say about bridesmaid dresses!" Glenda laughed out loud.
"I do not," said Dahlia, her voice cold enough to goose an icicle. "I was turned
before there was such a thing as a designated attendant for the bride."
"Oh, my goodness!" The younger vampire was shocked. And then delighted at
the prospect of introducing her superior friend to the certainty of an unpleasant
ordeal. "Then let's go find a church and watch a wedding. Well, maybe not a
church," she added nervously. Glenda had been a Christian in life, and churches
made her mighty twitchy. "Maybe we'll check out a country club, or find a garden
wedding."
Glenda actually had a sensible idea, Dahlia decided. It would help to know the
worst. And though all the bridesmaids were due at a party in honor of the happy
couple, if she and Glenda hurried, they wouldn't be late.
"The big mansions on the lakeside," she suggested. "It's a June weekend. Isn't
that a prime time for weddings in America?" Dahlia had a vague recollection of
seeing bridal magazines on the shelves at newspaper kiosks when she'd been
buying her monthly copy of Fang.
"That's a keen idea. Let's go!" Glenda was eager. The worst enemy of a vampire
was ennui. Any new diversion was worth its weight in gold.
Since they were both gifted with flight (not all vampires possessed this skill), the
two were able to reach the most imposing mansions in the city quickly. Glenda and
Dahlia hovered over them to detect an outside celebration that might prove to be a
wedding. At the VanTreeve place, they struck nuptial pay dirt. Tiffany VanTreeve
was marrying Brendan Blaine Buffington that very night. The two vamps landed
unobtrusively behind a tent set up on the grounds.
Dahlia eyed the scene critically, taking mental notes. The vampire sheriff of her
area in the city of Rhodes, Cedric Deeming, was worried about giving a proper
wedding in such a hurry. Though lazy and lax in many respects, Cedric was a
stickler for protocol. He'd urged all the vampires who nested with him to bring
home details of modern wedding proceedings.
Dahlia obediently began making mental notes. Close to the house, there were
two long tables loaded with food and a huge cake, though the food was discreetly
covered with drapes for the moment. There was a cage full of doves, with an
attendant in coveralls. Perhaps these were intended for a ritual sacrifice? There
were two phalanxes of white chairs on the lawn, arranged facing a large white dais
adorned with banks of pink flowers. A long red carpet ran between the two
sections of chairs, right up the steps of the dais, where a minister in a sober black
robe stood waiting.
Note to self: Find some kind of priest. Wasn't Harry Oakheart some kind of Druid?
Maybe he knew a ceremony.
A string quartet was playing Handel. (Note to self: Find musicians) Not only were
all the seats full, but there was a standing crowd at the back.
"What a swell spread," Glenda whispered, eyeing the buffet tables. "I guess the
wolves'l1 need food. Looks like we're expected to feed them. The sheriff won't like
that. You know what a tightwad he is. At least Cedric won't have to provide food
for half the guests." She winked at Dahlia, as if it were very funny that vampires
didn't eat food. "And we'll need liquor for the Weres, and we'll need a big stock of
blood. Maybe we could nip off the guests?"
Dahlia looked daggers at Glenda. "Don't even say it as a joke," she told the
younger vampire. "You know what'll happen if we even suggest that to a breather.
Follow the rules. Only from a willing adult!"
"Spoilsport," Glenda muttered.
"Cedric has already hired a caterer, a man who says he can do the whole thing,
flowers and all. Cedric is so cheap, he took the lowest bid. No sitdown
dinner,
just. . . finger food." Even Dahlia could not suppress her smile at the term, and
Glenda laughed out loud. A few of the guests turned to see who was so being so
boisterous, and Dahlia slammed Glenda in the ribs with a sharp elbow. Everyone
else present was being properly solemn. "But we have to do it properly," Dahlia
said, in a whisper inaudible to the humans around her. "We can't be found wanting.
It would shame Taffy, and the nest."
Glenda gave it as her opinion that the Weres should be grateful they were even
being allowed in Cedric's mansion. "I'm surprised Cedric will acknowledge the
wedding," she said.
The music gave a final flourish, and the guests rustled expectantly.
The two vampires watched the ceremony unfold: Glenda with a sentimental tear
or two (tinged red) and Dahlia with fascinated horror. The groom, looking as
though he'd been hit over the head with something large, took his place in front of
the minister and stared down the strip of red carpet rolling between the two fields
of white chairs. His groomsmen lined up on his side of the dais. At a signal that
was invisible to Dahlia, who was stretching up on her tiptoes to see, the traditional
music began.
"Here's the most interesting part," Glenda whispered.
One by one, the bridesmaids emerged from the white tent. Some were tall and
some were small; some were buxom and some were slim as reeds. But the seven
girls were all united in costume. Dahlia, the most elegant and particular of women,
closed her eyes in appalled horror.
All the bridesmaids were wearing matching floorlength
lime green silk sheaths.
If you could strip the dress down to its basic essentials, it wouldn't be too bad,
Dahlia thought. But the dresses were accessorized with lace gloves and tiny veiled
hats pinned to each lacquered head. Worst of all, there was a gigantic bow perched
atop each girlish butt. The waggle of each passing lime green rear end made Dahlia
feel like weeping, too, along with some of the female gueststhough
Dahlia
assumed they were crying for a different reason.
Glenda gave an audible snigger, and Dahlia despaired of ever teaching the girl
manners. Dahlia herself was maintaining an appropriately pleasant wedding guest
face despite the dreadful possibility that she'd have to wear such a monstrous
ensemble. Though the prospect was a blow, Dahlia conscientiously remained to
note the entire procedure. She was disappointed when the doves were simply released
into the sky at the climax of the ceremony.
Long after Glenda had lost interest, Dahlia traced all the events of the wedding
back to their human director, who was hovering at the rear of the gathering.
Though the poor wedding planner was quite busy, Dahlia was ruthless (in a
charming way) in getting the answers to several astute questions. She garnered
information that made her feel that (if it had been beating at all) her heart would
now burst.
"The groomsmenthose
men up there on the husband's sidethey'll
be from
among the groom's friends," Dahlia said, her hand gripping Glenda's shoulder.
"Well, sure, Dally," Glenda said. "Really, you! Didn't you know that?"
Dahlia shook her raven head back and forth. "Werewolves," she moaned.
"They'll all be Werewolves."
"Ewww," said Glenda. "We'll have to let one touch us, Dally. Did you see that
each bridesmaid took the arm of a groomsman on their way out of the . . . the . . .
designated wedding area?"
And for the first time in her long, long life, Dahlia LynleyChivers
said,
"Ewww."
To cover her shame, she added quickly, "If you call me Dally again, I'll tear your
throat out."
When Dahlia said something like that, it was smart to assume she meant it.
Glenda said, "Well, I'm sure not going to any stupid Were party with you now."
Dahlia had to back down, something she was unused to doing. "Glenda," she said
stiffly, "neither Cassie nor Fortunata will go, and I was relying on you. It's your
duty as a bridesmaid to attend this party. Taffy said so."
"If you think we'll be greeted with open arms by a bunch of stupid Weres, you
can think again, Miss Perfect. Open jaws is what they'll have." Glenda disappeared
behind the tent to conceal her liftoff, and Dahlia watched her companion disappear.
No doubt, Glenda would describe the bridesmaid dresses to any vamp who would
listen.
With her little jaw set grimly, Dahlia LynleyChivers
made her way to a part of
Rhodes she seldom visited. This time, she took a cab. Humans became very upset
when they saw her fly, and she was determined to do her best by her friend Taffy.
Taffy had been born Taphronia, daughter of Leonidas, centuries ago. She'd been
calling herself Taffy for the past forty years. Taffy and her fiance, Don Swiftfoot
(of course that was his pack namehis
human name was Don Swinton), were
celebrating their forthcoming nuptials at a bar in the Werewolf part of town. The
whole wedding party would be there; at least, the whole wedding party was
supposed to be there. Since the other bridesmaids had dropped the baton, Dahlia
feared she'd be the only vampire in attendance. She had a wide range of curses at
her disposal since she'd lived so long, and she voiced a few of them on the drive
through the city. Luckily, the cabdriver spoke none of the languages she used.
Dahlia got out of the cab a block away from the bar. This area of Rhodes was a
bit rundown,
a bit seedy. The sidewalks were crowded, even this late at night,
with barhopping
humans, who didn't realize they were just on the safe side of the
moon cycle. Of course, no one who lived in Rhodes realized they were partying in
an area that had a high concentration of Werewolves. Humans didn't know about
Werewolves yet. The twonatured
had to retain their human faces on their nights
out.
The bar, called Moonshine, was practically buzzing with energy and magic. Any
humans who wandered in uninvited developed severe headaches, and went home
early, as a rule. Moonshine was closed three nights out of the month.
Dahlia made sure her cocktail dress was smooth over her hips. Since she was
representing her nest, she put on a little lipstick and brushed her rippling hair
before she entered the bar. It was marked by a blinking neon sign formed in a
white circlerepresenting
the moon, if you had a lot of imagination.
"Tacky," Dahlia muttered. She read the notice taped to the door: Closed tonight
for private party. Because she was a little anxious about entering a
Werewolfinfested
bar, she stood a little straighter on her spike heelswhich
brought her height all the way up to five foot oneheld
her head proudly, tucked
her tiny flat purse under her bare arm, and marched inside, her haughtiest
expression fixed on her heartshaped
face.
A chorus of socalled
wolf whistles met her entrance. Of course, in their wolf
forms, these guys couldn't whistle for diddlysquat;
but they managed just fine in
their human guise. Dahlia pretended to be deaf as she scanned the tiny bar for
Taffy.
Really, you can't expect any better, she told herself. After all, true Weres were
generally guys and gals with a keen interest in motorcycles and monster trucks. All
the Weres in this bar were pure Weres, with two fullblooded
parents. (Even Taffy
wouldn't expose her friends to mongrels.)
Dahlia couldn't spy Taffy among the people, mostly male, crowding the bar, so
she began to make her way to the only doorway not marked: Restroom.
A very tall and very athletically built male stepped in front of her. "Sorry, lady,
this bar is closed tonight for a private party."
"Yes, I read the sign on the door."
"Then you're pretty slow taking a hint."
Dahlia looked up (and up) at the bright blue eyes in the broad face. This Were
had thick, curling brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, and he was cleanshaven.
He was wearing goldrimmed
glasses, a bit to her surprise, and a tight Tshirt
and
jeans . . . the jeans, now that she came to take a look, were pretty damn tight, too.
And boots. He had on big boots.
Dahlia shook herself (mentally, of course). The rude jerk was waiting for her
reply. "I am here seeking my friend Taffy," she said coldly, meeting his eyes
squarely.
They stood stockstill
for a long minute.
"A vamp," he said, loathing replacing the admiration in his voice. "Damn, I
knew we shoulda put some new lightbulbs in this place. Then I woulda noticed
how pale you are. What do you want with Taff? You gonna try to talk her out of
marrying Don, too?"
If it was possible to get any stiffer, Dahlia did. "I am going to . . . actually, what
I want with Taffy is none of your business, Were. I require an audience with her."
Dahlia was so rattled by the Were's anger that she became colder and stiffer and
caught herself reverting to former speech patterns.
"Oh yeah, and we're supposed to bow and scrape for the little madam?" he said.
"You should get that stick out of your ass and behave more like Taffy. She doesn't
act so snooty and superior. After all, what you got on us? We live longer than
humans, and we're stronger than humans, and we can do all kinds of things that
humans can't do."
"Excuse me," Dahlia said frigidly. "I am so not interested."
"I'll show you interested," the huge monster growled, reaching down as if he was
actually going to pick Dahlia up and give her a shake. The next instant, he was
looking up at her from the floor and his friends had leaped to their feet, their eyes
glowing. Snarls issued from several male throats, and one or two female ones.
"No," called the man from the floor, just as Dahlia prepared to free her hands for
fighting by tucking her tiny evening purse into the gartered top of her hose (a
process that distracted the males for a few long seconds), "she's in the right, guys."
"What?" asked a blond man built like a fire hydrant. "You gonna let a vamp get
away with putting you on the floor?"
"Yeah, Richie," said the man, getting up. "She did it fair and square after I
provoked her."
The rest of the Weres seemed disconcerted, but they backed away a foot or two.
Dahlia felt a mixture of relief and regret. Her fangs had extended as she readied to
fight, and she would have enjoyed relieving the tension by ripping off a few limbs.
"Come on, little highness," Brown Ponytail said. "I'll take you to Taffy."
She nodded curtly. He turned to lead the way, and she followed right behind
him. The crowd parted along the way rather reluctantly.
"Coldblooded
creep," said one Were woman. She was built like an Amazon,
broad shouldered. Dahlia would have loved to flash out a hand and bury it in the
Were's abdomen, but ladies didn't do such thingsnot
if they wanted the truce to
hold.
Dahlia was proud of herself when she didn't meet the woman's eyes in challenge.
Instead, Dahlia kept her gaze focused forward. Which is no hardship, she had to
admit to herself, as she examined the curve of the butt moving in front of her. It
certainly was a prime one, packed into the worn Levi's in a most attractive way
Dahlia winced, realizing that she'd actually caught herself admiring a Were.
Her guide stepped aside, and Dahlia was relieved beyond measure to see Taffy
sitting in a padded booth behind a round table with Don cuddling close to her right
and another Were to her left. Dahlia barely kept her upper lip from drawing back in
distaste. It was like seeing a racehorse cavorting with zebras.
"Dahlia!" shrieked Taffy. Her auburn curls were piled up on top of her head, and
she was wearing a halter top and blue jeans, as far as Dahlia could tell. Oh, really,
Dahlia thought, exasperated, remembering the care she'd taken to dress correctly.
Taffy looks like a real human. Probably trying to blend in. As if she could.
"Taffy," Dahlia said, thrown seriously off track, "can we have a talk?" She didn't
even want to acknowledge Don. He was as redheaded as Taffy, but his hair was
short and rough looking, like the coat of a terrier.
"Hey, beautiful!" Don said expansively.
Dahlia gave Don a stiff nod of greeting. She was no barbarian.
Don had a beard, and bright filaments of red stuck out from the neck of his golf
shirt. Dahlia shuddered. She was glad to look back at Taffy.
"You still got that cold bitch thing goin' on," Don observed. "Doesn't she,
Todd?"
"She's got it down pat," agreed her guide. "Didn't even bother to introduce
herself." Dahlia realized, with a pang, that the Were was correct. "She's a brave
little thing, though," the Were went on. "Knocked me assbackward."
Don grinned approvingly. "People should do that more often, Todd. It seems to
soften you up."
While Dahlia tried to estimate how long it would take her to kill them all, Taffy
was extricating herself from the booth, which seemed to involve a lot of
unnecessary brushing against Don, with wriggling and kisses strewn in for good
measure. This was the source of many teasing comments and much laughter from
the assembled Weres.
I seem to be the only one who's in a had mood, Dahlia thought, and then without
meaning to, her eyes met the tall Were's again. Nope, Todd was less than happy,
too. Dahlia wondered whether it was the engagement between Don and Taffy or
her own intrusion that had triggered Todd's irritation.
"This is my friend Dahlia LynleyChivers,"
Taffy announced to the crowd of
Weres. "She's my maid of honor."
There was a smattering of polite response. Dahlia inclined her head civilly. She
couldn't force a smile.
"Snottynose
bitch," muttered the other Were sitting in the booth. He had dark
curly hair and a pugnacious attitude. "Having one in the bar at a time is enough."
Dahlia's tiny hand darted out and dug into the Were's throat.
He gagged, his eyes going wide with shock and fear, and the atmosphere of the
bar went into high gear.
"Dahlia!" said Taffy. "He didn't know what he was saying, Dahlia. Please, for
me."
Dahlia released the darkhaired
Were, and he collapsed against the wood of the
booth, breathing heavily. There was an uneasy stirring among the denizens of the
crowded bar.
"Thanks, honey," Taffy murmured. "Let's take this out on the sidewalk, okay?"
Her back as straight and her head as high as ever, Dahlia followed Taffy out of
the bar, looking neither to the right nor to the left, ignoring the growing chorus of
growls that surged in her wake.
"Smooth move, Dahlia," Taffy said, the words bursting out as soon as they were
on the sidewalk.
"You were the one who invited me! If you weren't the one engaged to that. . .
that dog man . . . do you think I'd go inside such a place?"
"Where are the others?" Taffy lost her anger and looked a bit lost. Maybe she
hadn't been quite as comfortable as she'd seemed, being the only vamp in a crowd
of Weres.
"Ah, they couldn't make it." Dahlia couldn't think of any way to cushion the
rudeness of Taffy's other bridesmaids and her sheriff, Cedric.
Taffy sighed. "I didn't think it was too much to ask, coming to a party in our
honor to wish me well." Dahlia's cheeks would have flushed if they could have;
she was embarrassed at the poor manners of her sisters. "I guess it's a measure of
our friendship that you came inside to see me," Taffy admitted. "I know we're
buddies. Please, help me get through this wedding with peace between our people.
I want you there on my wedding day, and I want my other friends there, too, and
the last thing I want is a bloodbath between the two tribes, us and the Weres, right
there in Cedric's garden."
Cedric had offered the garden of his mansion as the locale for the wedding, to
everyone's surprise. Cedric had told Dahlia, in his languid way, that he had been
sure Taffy would cry off before the day actually arrived. Now that the wedding
was fast approaching and still a reality, the notably lazy Cedric was scrambling to
get the grounds ready and also calling in markers in an effort to assemble some of
the more levelheaded vamps to act as security for the big night, which was shaping
up to be the scandalous social event of the season in the supernatural world.
Ignoring the Weres who were peering out of the bar, Dahlia and Taffy began to
stroll down the street, arm in arm, an oldfashioned
habit that drew a few stares.
"Taffy, I'm worried."
"What about, Dahlia?" Taffy asked gently.
"You know that Cedric's mansion is in a turmoil of preparation," Dahlia began,
trying to think of the best way to voice her concerns without sounding like a
complete alarmist.
"I heard." Taffy laughed, her throat tilted back. "That old bastard! Serves Cedric
right for making a promise he had no intention of keeping."
"Taffy, you've been with the Weres too much. Don't disrespect the sheriff so
boldly."
"You're right," Taffy said, sobering quickly enough to satisfy even the worried
Dahlia. "So, Cedric's in an uproar. What of it?"
"The Weres and the vampires aren't the only ones who may have heard of this
wedding," Dahlia said. She was voicing something she'd not told anyone else, and
her voice wasn't completely steady. "Since the Weres haven't come out yet, to the
world it must look as though you're illegally marrying a human."
Vampires didn't have the legal right to marry in the United States, not yet
anyway. Dahlia couldn't have cared less about her legal rights, since she knew how
transitory governments were, but there was no denying it was sweet to be able to
walk the streets openly, admitting her true nature, and to know that if she was
killed, her death would be stateavenged.
Well, maybe, under certain circumstances.
The point was, society was moving in the right direction, and the backlash from
this affair might knock all of them sideways.
"Who in the mundane world knows?"
"It won't make a difference if humans know it afterward; we can explain it
wasn't a true wedding at all. Cedric can get reporters to believe anything. But if it
becomes common knowledge beforehand, there'll be human reporters all over the
place, and protesters, and who knows what else."
"Cedric's gardeners are human," Taffy said slowly. "The florist is human." Her
face was utterly serious now, and she looked like a true vampire. They turned back
to return to the bar.
Dahlia nodded, silently, knowing her point had been taken. She was thrilled to
see Taffy looking like her former self, until she realized that though the familiar
calculation had returned to Taffy's face, something had been taken away: the
lighthearted joy that made the ancient vampire look so renewed.
"So, you're saying that we might need more security than Cedric's thinking of
providing," Taffy continued.
Dahlia cursed inside. Her point had been that Taffy should call off this insane
ceremony. But Taffy had simply not considered it for a moment. "Sister," Dahlia
said, calling on the bond of the nestmate.
"You must not go through with this
wedding. It will bring trouble on the nest, and . . . and . . ." Dahlia had a flash of
inspiration. "It may bring the Weres out into the open before they are ready to be
known," Dahlia said, confident she was playing a trump card.
"This is a big secret," Taffy whispered, and not even a gnat could have heard her
whisper, "but in the next month, the Weres are voting at their council about that
very issue."
It had taken years of worldwide secret negotiations to pick the moment for the
vampires: months of coordination, selection, and a carefully composed text that
had been translated into a myriad of languages. The Weres would probably slouch
in front of the television cameras with beers in their paws and dare the world to
deny them citizenship.
"Then delay the wedding until then," Dahlia urged, trying to ignore all these side
issues and stick to the main point.
"Sorry, no can do," Taffy said.
It took Dahlia a minute to grasp the meaning of Taffy's words. "Why not?" she
asked. She made her lips manufacture a smile. "I know you're not pregnant." Dead
bodies, however animated they looked, could not produce live children.
"No, but Don's ex is." Taffy's face was grim as she looked down at Dahlia's
stunned face. "We have to get hitched before she has the baby, or she can appear
before the Were council and demand they reinstate her marriage. Don hasn't had a
child with anyone else, and you know how the Weres are about the purebloods
reproducing with each other."
Dahlia could not do something so gauche as gape, but she came close. "I've
never heard of such a thing," she said weakly.
"None of us knows much about the Were culture," Taffy said. "Our arrogance
keeps us ignorant." The two stepped off the curb to cross the mouth of the alley.
The bright lights of the bar were only half a block away.
Dahlia brightened. "I'll kill her," she said. There, she'd solved the problem.
"Then you can hold off on your marriage, or cancel it altogether. No need to get
married, right? What does this bitch look like?"
"Like this," said a sweet voice from the shadows, and a young woman leaped
out, the knife in her hand glinting in the streetlight. But as fast as the Were stabbed
at Taffy, Dahlia jumped to intercept it. She deflected it with her bare hands, but not
quickly enough. It lodged between Dahlia's ribs, and the strong Were woman
began to twist the blade. Just in time, Dahlia gripped the Were's wrist, and neatly
broke it before the gesture could be completed.
The woman's screams drew an outrush of Weres from the bar. They circled
Dahlia, growling and snapping, sure that the vampire had attacked first. Dahlia
herself was standing very still, trying to keep from shrieking. That would have
been unseemly, in Dahlia's opinion, and she was a vampire who lived by a code.
Taffy was so shocked that she didn't react with the speed one expected of a
vampire. Between trying to explain to her fiance what had happened and
positioning herself to slap away the hands that would have struck Dahlia, Taffy
was too occupied to evaluate Dahlia's plight. Oddly enough, it was Todd who
calmed things down by silencing the crowd with a yell that was perilously close to
a howl.
Into the hush he said, "Keep all humans away, first of all." There was a flurry of
activity as the few humans who'd been drawn by the ruckus were hustled off,
diverted with some story that would hardly make sense when it was reconsidered.
"What happened?" Don asked Taffy. Several female Weres were kneeling on the
ground around the moaning exwife.
The Amazonian Were called, "The vamp
bitch attacked Amber and broke her arm!" A chorus of growls swelled the throats
of the werewolves.
Dahlia concentrated on her breathing. Though vamps healed with amazing
speed, the initial injury hurt just as much as it would any other being. The blood
dripped from her hands, but it was slowing. She held them out in the light, and the
crowd murmured. Taffy exclaimed, "She did this for me!" and then became quite
still. Her voice shaking with a very unvamplike quiver, Taffy said, "Dahlia protected
me with her life. Not exactly in the bridesmaid description."
Don was clearly conflicted between the woman on the ground (whom Dahlia
could see now was what she thought of as medium pregnant), his distraught
fiancee, and Dahlia.
"Dahlia, what do you say?" he asked harshly.
"I say, the fucking bitch stabbed me," Dahlia said clearly. "And would someone
please pull out this damn knife before I heal around it? I mean, just any old time
will do, unless you want to moan some more over Little Miss Homicide there." It
was convenient that none of them had heard Dahlia offer to take care of Don's ex a
few moments earlier. It gave her the definite moral high ground. Pregnant women,
after all, were revered by almost everyone, both supernatural and human, and
Dahlia needed all the leverage she could get. Without moving, because the pain
was so intense she might fall down, Dahlia scanned the ring of Weres blocking the
group from the view of passersby. "Todd, would you do the honors?" she asked,
biting her lips with the pain. "You might even enjoy it."
Todd looked like there was nothing he'd enjoy less.
He bent down to look into Dahlia's green eyes, narrowed with the effort of
sustaining her dignity. "I salute your courage," he said, and then he put one hand
against her abdomen and yanked out the knife with the other.
Dahlia would have collapsed to her knees (terribly embarrassing) if the big Were
hadn't caught her.
The next few minutes were a dim blur for Dahlia. She heard Don's stern voice,
even deeper than usual, ordering Amber to tell the truth. Amber, a mediumsized
blonde with a large bosom, wept copious tears and told her own jumbled version of
events. In this version, she just happened to have a knife with her, in fact, ready in
her hand, when Dahlia had jumped her. As to why Amber happened to be there in
the first place, she whined that she'd just wanted to catch a glimpse of Don. Even
the Weres didn't believe that.
"An attack on the packmaster's wife is an attack on the packmaster
himself,"
Todd said.
"Then this vampire is as much at fault for breaking Amber's arm as Amber is for
trying to kill Taffy," said the Amazon, trying very hard not to smile. "Since Amber
is Don's wife."
" Was Don's wife," the packmaster himself corrected. "Before the state and the
pack, I divorced Amber. Her attack on Taffy counts as an attack against me."
"Does not," argued the Amazon. "You haven't married Taffy, yet."
"Oh, for goodness' sake," Dahlia muttered. "Bore me to death, why don't you."
She felt Todd's chest shaking, and realized he was laughing silently. The wound
in her side was almost healed, but she took her time pushing away from the Were's
support. He was warm, and he smelled good.
She looked down at herself, taking stock. Her dress was ruined. Ruined! And
she'd just paid off her credit card bill! "My dress," she said sadly. "At least make
her pay for my dress. Did blood get on my shoes?" She hobbled over to a
streeylight and held out a foot in an attempt to survey the damage. "Yes!" she said,
going from grief to outrage in an undead minute. The shoes were brandnew
and
had cost more than the dress. "Okay, that does it." Her head snapped up and she
glared at Don. "Amber pays for my dress and my shoes, and she doesn't come
within five miles of Taffy for a year."
She was speaking into a chasm of silence. At the sound of her crisp voice, all
conversation had ceased. Everyone was staring at her, even the whimpering
Amber.
Don blinked. "Ah, that sounds fair," he said. "Honey?"
There was another embarrassing moment when both Amber and Taffy believed
this appellation referred to them and began to respond simultaneously. Don gave
Amber a look of withering contempt, which prompted a fresh burst of noisy tears.
Taffy said, "That seems a very moderate sentence, to me."
Dahlia knew from her friend's mild tone that Taffy thought Amber should be
drawn and quartered, no matter what her condition.
"Amber, do you agree?" Don asked.
"What about her paying my hospital bill? I have to get this wrist set, after all."
"That's stupid, even for you," Todd said, into the general silence. "Amber, one
more offense and the whole pack will abjure you."
Dahlia didn't know what being abjured consisted of, but the mere threat was an
effective deterrent. Amber was shocked silent.
Two of the Were women loaded Amber into a car and headed off, presumably
for the hospital. The rest of the crowd dispersed, leaving Todd, Dahlia, Don, and
Taffy on the sidewalk.
Dahlia held up a hand to examine in the light. The slash across the palm had
completely healed, and when she touched the wound in her ribs, she only felt a
slight tenderness. "I'll take my leave," she said. She wanted to divest herself of her
ruined clothes, shower, and knock back a few pints of synthetic blood before dawn.
"I'll walk you home," Todd said. It would be hard to say who in the little crowd
was the most surprised by this statement.
"That's not necessary," Dahlia said, after a second's recovery.
"I know you can carry me over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes," Todd said.
He looked down at Dahlia. "And I'm not saying I'm happy about my packleader
marrying a vamp, legal or not. But I'm gonna walk you home, unless you fly
away."
Dahlia's brows drew together.
"After all," he said, "I'm in charge of security for the wedding, and I'm the best
man. Since you're the maid of honor, I understand, you'll be responsible for
security on your side? We should talk."
Dahlia turned to Don and Taffy, who were standing hand in hand, looking
shellshocked.
"I will see you tomorrow night, Taffy," the vampire said formally.
"Don." She nodded at the packleader, still not able to think of a formal pleasantry
that would suit the unsuitable alliance.
The big Were and the little vampire walked side by side for a few blocks.
Everyone they met stepped off the sidewalk to give them room, and the odd pair
never even noticed.
"You're quite articulate for a Were." Dahlia's voice was cool and steady.
"Hey, some of us have even graduated from high school," he said easily.
"Myself, I made it through college without tearing up one single coed."
"I shared my brother's tutor until my parents decided that, as a girl, I didn't need
to learn any more," Dahlia said, to her own surprise. To cover her confession,
Dahlia launched into a discussion of the security measures for the wedding. The
vampires would guard the doors to the mansion; the only people on the premises
should be the invited guests and the catering staff.
"Are all the vampires living in the mansion invited to the wedding?" Todd
asked, trying to sound casual.
"Yes," Dahlia said, after a moment's consideration. "We're all nestmates,
after
all."
"How's that work?"
"Well, we live together under Cedric's rule, since he's the sheriff of this area. As
long as we're nestmates,
we protect each other and come to each other's aid."
"And contribute to Cedric's purse?"
"Well, yes. If we stayed in a hotel, we'd pay for lodging, so that's fair."
"And do his bidding?"
"Yes, that, too."
"A lot like the pack does for the packleader."
"I had assumed so. What part will the Weres play in security?" Dahlia asked.
Todd was asking entirely too many questions.
"There should be a Were at every door, too, along with a vamp. We need to make
sure that one or the other knows everyone who comes into the mansion that day.
This wedding isn't popular with anyone, vamps or Weres, and though Don is
totally not worried, I am."
"None of the vampires are worried, except me," Dahlia confessed. They'd
arrived at a side door to the huge house on a street in the heart of the haughtiest
section of the city. Cedric had had centuries of savings to use in purchasing this
prime piece of Rhodes real estate, and though having a vampire among them hadn't
made the wealthy neighbors happy, the city's Freedom of Housing ordinance had
reinforced the vampires' right to live where they chose.
Todd said, "Good night, dead lady."
"Good night, hairball," she said. But just before the door closed behind her, she
turned to smile at him.
The day of the wedding closed clear and warm, ideal for the outside ceremony.
Acting uneasily in tandem, the Were and vamp security teams had admitted the
catering staff, scanning their ID cards quickly The teams paid more careful
attention to the invitations presented by their own kind.
When Dahlia checked out the garden, the fountain of synthetic blood was
flowing beautifully, champagne glasses arranged in a tier on a table beside it. It
was a pretty touch, and Dahlia was proud she'd arranged it with the caterer, along
with a groaning buffet for the Weres and a bar with drinks both alcoholic and
nonalcoholic. Dahlia walked down the buffet, checking the stainlesssteel
eating
utensils and the napkins and heated containers full of food. It seemed sufficient,
though Dahlia was not much of a judge. The two servers stood stiffly behind the
buffet, eyeing her passage with unhappy eyes. Every human on the catering staff
was tense. They've never served vampires, she thought, and maybe the Weres are
giving off some kind of vibration, too.
She wasn't a bit surprised to encounter Todd, who was making a circuit of the
high brick wall that guarded the large backyard of the mansion.
"Where's your dress?" he asked. "I'm panting to see it." Dahlia was in a black
robe, modestly tied at her waist. Todd was already in his tuxedo. Dahlia had to
blink.
"You look good," she said, her voice almost as calm as usual, though her fangs
were sliding out. "Good" was a definite understatement. "Like a lifesize
Ken
doll."
"I can't believe you even know what a Ken doll is," he said, laughing. "If I'm a
big Ken, you're a miniature vampire Barbie."
She'd been called worse things. She'd always admired Barbie's wardrobe and
fashion sense.
"See you in a few minutes," she said, and went to get dressed.
Hanging over the door to the closet in Dahlia's little room was the bridesmaid
dress. After a prolonged struggle with Taffy, Dahlia had talked her out of ordering
pale pink with ruffles or pale blue with artificial roses sewn across the bodice. And
no big bow on the butt. And no hat with veil. In fact, her nestmate
Fortunata came
in just as Dahlia shimmied into the gown. Fortunata smiled at Dahlia's cautious
look down the length of her body.
Taffy, despite her strange lack of judgment about this marriage, had finally had
the sense to realize vampires would look ridiculous in innocent ruffles, girlish
flounces, and insipid colors. The bridesmaids, four of them, were wearing dark blue
squarenecked
long dresses that were formfitting
but not sleazily tight, and the
spaghetti straps ensured that no one would lose whatever modesty she might
possess. There were a few glittery sequins strewn across the chest to give the dress
a little sparkle, and they were all wearing black high heels and carrying bouquets
of pale pink and creamy white roses. Fortunata had just come from adding a little
extra item to the bouquets, at Dahlia's request.
"Mission accomplished. Now I'm ready to fix your hair," Fortunata said, finding
Dahlia's brush in the clutter on the dressing table. Fortunata had had a way with
hair for centuries, and she brushed and pulled and twisted until Dahlia's black
tresses were a model of sophisticated simplicity, with a couple of ringlets trailing
here and there carelessly, to add just that touch of sensuous abandon.
"Not too shabby," was Fortunata's verdict when she and Dahlia stood side by
side, and Dahlia had to agree. She felt a pleasurable tingle when she thought of
Todd seeing her in the complete ensemble, and she hurriedly suppressed the
reaction. Every time she viewed herself in a mirror, she felt a thrill of pleasure that
the old canard about vamps having no reflection simply wasn't true.
The two bridesmaids united with the rest of the bride's side of the wedding party
in the large common room at the back of the mansion. Taffy was in full wedding
regalia, a pale redhead dripping in ivory lace. "She looks like a big white cake
covered in icing," Fortunata muttered, and Dahlia, who actually agreed, said,
"Hush. She looks beautiful." The long sleeves, the lace, the veil, the coronet of
pearls . . . "We're lucky we're bridesmaids," Dahlia muttered. She drifted across the
enormous, opulent room to gaze out the French doors at the scene outside. The
French doors led out onto the flagstoned
terrace, and from the terrace down onto
the lawn. The scene looked very familiar, with white chairs in two groups of
orderly lines, with a red carpet bisecting the groups. Either the catering company
Cedric had hired was the same one that had had the concession at the wedding
Dahlia attended a couple of weeks before or the arrangement was standard
operating procedure. Dahlia had dispensed with the doves, fearing some of the
Weres would eat the birds before they could be released.
A fairy or two mingled with the crowd, carefully staying over on the groom's
side. Fairies were notoriously delicious to vampires, and though everyone was sure
to be on his or her best behavior, not every vamp had the same threshold of
selfcontrol.
Dahlia recognized a goblin or two that Cedric did business with and
assorted shapeshifters,
including one dark exotic who changed into a cobra. (That
had been a memorable sight on a memorable night. Dahlia smiled reminiscently)
Just then, a chorus of howls outside announced the arrival of the groomsmen, all
decked out in their tuxes. Dahlia could distinguish Todd even at a distance. His
burnished head was shining in the torches that had been set at intervals up and
down the lawn. His glasses glinted. Dahlia sighed.
The music, provided by a Were rock band that was a favorite of the groom's, was
surprisingly pleasant. The lead singer had a wonderfully tender voice that wrapped
itself around love songs in an affecting way. He began to sing a number that she
knew was called simply "The Wedding Song," because Taffy had dragged her
along when she picked out the music.
Of course, the words weren't altogether pertinent since the subjects getting
married weren't human. Don wasn't going to leave his mother, and Taffy wasn't
going to leave her home. Taffy's home had slid into the ocean a couple of centuries
before, and Don's mother was now pregnant by another member of the pack. But
the sentiment, that the two would cleave together, was timely.
Just as Dahlia's eyes began to feel a little watery, Cedric appeared to give Taffy
away. This was his right as sheriff, and Dahlia was proud that Cedric had stirred
himself enough to be fitted for a traditional tuxedo. (He'd threatened to appear in
an elaboration of his court costume from the time of Henry VIII.) The scene
outside seemed to be boiling with activity, lots of the caterer's minions milling
around. They needed to be more unobtrusive, Dahlia thought, and frowned.
The music changed, and Dahlia recognized the signal. She snapped her fingers.
The bridesmaids grew still, and Taffy stared around her, looking as though she was
going to panic. Cedric was searching around in his pocket for a handkerchief, since
he was prone to tears at weddings, he'd said. Though he was perhaps a foot shorter
than Taffy, he looked quite dapper in his blackandwhite.
His gleaming skin and
dark Vandyke beard and mustache made him appear quite distinguished, and if it
hadn't been for a few niggling worries, Dahlia would have been very satisfied with
the showing the vampires were providing. Cedric might not be a ball of energy,
but he was handsome and had a polished turn of phrase that would come in handy
at the wedding banquet.
"What's happening out there?" Taffy asked. "Do I look all right?"
"Don has come to stand by his friend the minister," Dahlia reported. She had to
stand on her tiptoes, even though she was at a slight elevation, to see what was
happening. Don's friend, who'd been chosen over Harry the Druid, was a
mailorder
minister who happened to have a wonderfully solemn voice and an
appropriate black robe. The marriage wouldn't exactly be legal anyway, so appearance
was more important than religious preference. "He's looking toward the
house, waiting for you!" Dahlia tried her best to sound excited, and the other
bridesmaids twittered obligingly.
"Here's Todd, coming for me," she said, making sure she sounded quite
emotionless. This was the way they'd agreed to do it, each bridesmaid going down
the aisle paired with a Were, echoing the bridal couple. "That sucks," Glenda had
said frankly, but Dahlia had given the other bridesmaids her bigeyed
gaze, and
they'd buckled.
Dahlia held her bouquet in the correct grip, and as Fortunata opened the door,
Dahlia stepped out to meet the approaching Todd, who offered his arm at the right
moment. The assembled guests gasped and murmured in a gratifying way at
Dahlia's beauty, but Dahlia wanted to record only one reaction. Todd's eyes flared
wide in the response Dahlia had long recognized as signaling sure attraction.
Dahlia suppressed a grin and tried her best to look sweet and demure as she
reached up to take Todd's brawny arm.
He bent down to tell her something confidential, and she waited with the faintest
of smiles as they walked slowly down the red carpet.
"The caterers," he whispered. "There are too many of them."
"I wondered," she said, keeping her face arranged in a smile with some effort.
"How'd they get in?"
"The caterer's in on it. They all had ID cards."
"This may be more fun that we'd counted on," she said, looking up at him for the
first time. He caught his breath. "Woman, you stir my blood," he said sincerely.
She put her own feelings into her eyes and felt his pulse quicken in response.
She murmured, "Armed?"
"Don't think we need to be," he said. "Tomorrow night's the full moon. We can
change tonight, if we throw ourselves into it."
"When do you think it'll happen?"
"When the bride comes out," he said.
"Of course." The fanatics would want Taffy most of all. What a triumph for
them if they could destroy the dead thing that wanted to marry a living man!
"If you change . . . there can't be any survivors," she observed, her soft voice
audible only to his sharp ears.
He smiled down at her. "Not a problem."
They'd reached the front of the assemblage now. Dahlia was close enough to
notice that the waiting groom was trembling with nerves, though Todd's arm under
her hand felt rocksteady.
They were due to split up here, Dahlia going to the
bride's side and Todd to the groom's. "Don't separate," she said at the last minute,
and they turned to face the guests together, but no longer arm in arm. The pair
following in their wake, Fortunata and the stubby blond Were named Richie, were
quick enough on the uptake to follow suit, as did the other two couples.
Now they formed a wall in front of the groom, and all Dahlia's hopes for her
friend's safety depended on Taffy getting down the aisle and gaining safety behind
the phalanx formed by the wedding party.
The men and women in white jacketswho'd
been setting up tables and ferrying
food from the kitchen and setting up the blood bar and the alcohol barwere
now
trying to subtly position themselves in a loose circle around the guests and the
wedding party.
All Dahlia's suspicions were confirmed.
It didn't take the crowd long to smell something odd. A confused murmur had
just begun to spread through the guests when an apparently unsuspecting Taffy
stepped out of the French doors. Cedric followed right behind her, giving her room
to emerge in her full bridal splendor.
The caterers drew their weapons from under their white jackets and opened fire.
Lots of the bullets were aimed at the bride.
But Taffy wasn't there. She had jumped five feet up in the air, and she was
hurling her bridal bouquet at the nearest shooter hard enough to knock him down.
Her eyes were blazing. Her red hair came loose from its elaborate arrangement,
and she looked magnificent, every inch a vampire: a vampire totally pissed off that
her wedding plans were being ruined.
Dahlia was proud enough to burst. But there wasn't any time to revel in her
pleasure, because just as Todd bent to the ground and began to turn furry, Richie's
chest exploded in a spray of red and Fortunata gasped with pain as a shot
penetrated her arm.
From her own bouquet Dahlia extracted the wicked dagger she'd gotten
Fortunata to conceal in its center, and with a bloodcurdling battle yell, she laid into
the nearest server, a piefaced
young woman who hadn't mastered the art of close
combat.
Dahlia and the other vamps mowed through the whitecoated
gunslingers like
scythes, and the huge bronze wolf by her side was just as effective.
Though they may have been heavily briefed on the evil and vicious nature of
vampires, the attackers certainly hadn't counted on such an instantaneous and
drastic counterattack. And they didn't know anything about Werewolves. The
shock value of seeing many of the guests turn into animals rendered some of the
gun toters simply paralytic with astonishment, during which moment the wolves
rendered themwell,
literally rendered them.
One fanatical young man faced Dahlia's approach and held open his arms to
either side, proclaiming, "I am ready to die for my faith!"
"Good," Dahlia said, somewhat startled that he was being so obliging. She
separated him from his head with a quick swipe of the knife.
When the fighting was over, Dahlia and Todd found themselves backtoback
on
a pile of rather objectionable corpses, looking around for any further opposition.
But the only live people around them were those of their own kind. Dahlia turned
to her companion. "It appears there are no more objections to the marriage," she
said.
From the expression on his muzzle Dahlia could tell that she'd never looked so
beautiful to the big Wereeven
covered in blood, her dress ruined. Todd changed
from a wolf into an equally blooddappled
man wearing no clothes at all. "Oh,"
Dahlia said, happily. "Oh, bravo!"
Dahlia had paused to take some gulps of the real thing (to hell with the synthetic
blood fountain) during the slaughter, and now she was rosy cheeked and feeling
quite invigorated.
"The knives were your idea, weren't they?" Todd said admiringly.
Dahlia nodded, trying to look shy.
"It's a human tradition that the best man and the maid of honor have a fling at the
wedding," Todd said.
"Is that right?" Dahlia looked up at him. "But you know, there hasn't been a
wedding yet."
They looked around them as they made their way to the terrace. Cedric and
Glenda were sipping from cups they'd filled with blood that wasn't synthetic at all.
Ever the gracious host, Cedric had uncorked some champagne and offered the
bottle to Don. Taffy, hanging on to Don's bare arm, was laughing breathlessly. Her
pearl coronet was still straight, but her dress was ripped in several places. She
didn't seem to care.
Richie, the sole serious casualty on the supernatural side, was being tended ably
by a little doctor who looked suspiciously like a hobbit.
"I now pronounce you man and wife!" called the Were friend who'd been the
"minister" at the ceremony. He was as naked as Todd. He had his arms wrapped
around the Amazonian Were woman, who was equally bereft of clothing. They
seemed quite happy, but not as happy as Don and Taffy as they kissed each other.
The wedding was pronounced a great success. In fact, though it had been termed
scandalous before it occurred, Taffy and Don's wedding turned out to be the social
event of the Rhodes summer season, in certain supernatural circles.
The disappearance of the Lucky Caterer's entire staff was a nineday
wonder in
Rhodes law enforcement circles. Luckily for the vampires and the Weres, owner
Lucky Jones had kept the wedding off the books because she expected the humans
would kill all the guests.
And it's true that, as Dahlia had told Glenda, going through a war together breeds
comradeship; less than a year later, the same Were minister was officiating at Todd
and Dahlia's nuptials.
The couple wisely opted to have a less formal weddingin
fact, a potluck. Dahlia
had decided that, contrary to all social indicators, caterers were simply tacky.
CHARLAINE HARRIS, who has been writing books for twentyfive
years, is a
native of Mississippi. She has written the lighthearted Aurora Teagarden
books and the much edgier Lily Bard series. Now she's working on a series
about a lightningstruck
young woman named Harper Connelly, and the
Sookie Stackhouse books, which blend mystery, humor, romance, and the
supernatural. The Sookie books are also being read in Japan, Spam, Greece,
Great Britain, Germany, Thailand, Russia, and France.
In addition to her work as a writer, Harris is married and the mother of three.
A former weight lifter and karate student, she is an avid reader and cinemaphile.
Harris is a member of the Mystery Writers of America and the American Crime
Writers League. She has served on the board of Sisters in Crime, and alternates
with Joan Hess as president of the Arkansas Mystery Writers Alliance.