My Big Fat Supernatural Wedding (23 page)

The sky rippled. The earth moved. The birds broke into hosannas of song. The roses exploded like fireworks, shooting fountains of fragrant petals everywhere. A halo of blinding silver light engulfed Middleton and the former Miss Scruggs, and when the flash faded they were locked in a kiss of such intensity that Aphrodite herself gave them a standing ovation.

It was a lovely wedding. Ares gave the bride away as quickly as he could, with Aphrodite as her maid of honor. Hilliard AustinCowles proposed the first toast at the reception. (It was less a toast than an announcement in which he declared he would see us all in hell before he paid for one second of this wedding. The happy groom promptly wrote out a check for the full amount, crumpled it up, and stuffed it in Hilliard's ear.)

Wylda Serene was unable to attend her mother's wedding reception. Ever the altruist, she instead volunteered to drive me to the hospital so that my bitten hand might be treated before infection set in.

We drove in silence until at last I remarked, "What a pleasant surprise to discover that a person of your generation is so familiar with Greek mythology. You knew that Love's own arrow would transform your mother's heart to the point where it would overrule her weddingmad mind, and that the halo effect of Eros's power would enamor the first person with whom she came into physical contact.

Brilliant."

"Not really," Wylda replied with becoming modesty. "I just wanted to kill her.

But the way it all turned out was pretty good, too."

I arched one brow and gave the girl a speculative look. "It would appear that I have underestimated you, my dear. What other surprises are there beneath your facade of meekness and docility?"

"You're cute, for an older guy. Why don't we find out?" she responded with a smile, and reached over to pat my leg.

That is, I 
presumed
 she wished to pat my leg. As to which portion of my anatomy she 
did
 pat

It was a long drive, but another lovely wedding at journey's end. A Las Vegas wedding, true, but at least the drag 
artiste/
 minister at the Church of Eternal Glitz was a Harvard man.

Nebula Awardwinner ESTHER FRIESNER is the author of thirtyone novels and more than one hundred and fifty short stories, in addition to being the editor of seven popular anthologies. Her works have been published in the United States, the United Kingdom, Japan. Germany, Russia, France. Poland, and Italy. She is also a published poet, a produced playwright, and once wrote an advice column: "Ask Auntie Esther." Her articles on fiction writing have appeared in
 
Writer's Market
 
and
 
Writer's Digest
 
books. Her latest publications are
 
Tempting Fate
 
from Dutton/Penguin and
 
Turn the Other Chick
 
from Baen Books; the fifth book in the popular Chicks in Chainmail series that she created and edits. She is married, the mother of two, harbors cats, and lives in Connecticut.

#########################

"CHARMED BY THE MOON"

copyright © 2006 by Lori Handeland.

I
awoke on the morning of my wedding with a big fat headache.

Most likely the result of too much wine at what we'd jokingly called the rehearsal dinner but had in truth been a security check complete with steaks and cabernet. Then again, maybe the pain in my brain was a reaction to the words "marriage," "wedding," and "Jessie McQuade" in the same sentence.

I'd lost my mind, but I wasn't exactly sure when.

Had it been the day I'd told Will I loved him? Or maybe the evening he'd asked me to marry him and I hadn't had the heart to say no again? I'd definitely been long gone when I'd agreed to a ceremony with all the froufrou nonsense that went with it.

Groaning, I levered myself out of bed and pulled back the curtain. Bright June sunlight shafted into my eyes like ice picks, and I let the drape fall over the glass.

"I still can't believe you agreed to go through with this."

I gave a little yelp and spun around, wincing at the movement, then putting my hand to my head so it wouldn't fall off.

"I told you not to drink that last gallon, but you wouldn't listen."

Leigh TylerFitzgerald, one of my few friends left alive, stepped into the room.

She appeared too tiny, blond, and cute for this early in the morning. She always did.

"Who the hell gave you a key?"

"Ahahah." Leigh waggled a Styrofoam cup. "Is that any way to speak to a woman bearing coffee?"

"Gimme."

I held out my hands like a child reaching for candy, and she took pity on me.

I suppose I should clarify why I'm short on friends. Not that I'd had all that many in the first place. Folks who hang around me tend to wind up dead. An occupational hazard. The same could be said of Leigh, which was probably why we'd bonded.

We're
JagerSuckers,
which translates to "huntersearchers," for those of you who prefer English. We hunt things that prefer the night. Werewolves are our specialty.

Hey, I didn't believe it at first, either, but when you're staring death in the face and death has the eyes of someone you once loved, or at least knew, your belief system takes a big kick in the teeth.

The
JagerSuchers
are a select, secret group of operatives attempting to make the world safe, if not for democracy, at least for people who don't grow fur under the light of the moon. Unfortunately, the job is never ending. Werewolves not only like to kill; they also like to multiplyas do all their demonic cohorts.

I drank half the cup of coffee before coming up for air. My headache was still there, but it wasn't quite as bad.

"How long do I have until the wedding?"

"Long enough."

"I doubt it."

"You say that as if you're going to a funeral." Leigh sat on the bed. "What gives, Jessie? I've never seen anyone more in love than you and Will Cadotte."

Unless we were talking about her and her husband, Damien, but we weren't. At least not today.

"Love isn't the problem."

"What is?"

"I don't want to get married."

"Then why are you?"

I looked her straight in the eye. "I have no idea."

"You lost me."

"Will's been asking me to marry him for nearly a year."

I hadn't met William Cadotte under the most normal of circumstances. We were as unalike as two people could be. Will was a professor with a specialty in Native American totems. I was a copor at least I had been then. He was an Ojibwe, an activist, a glasseswearing, treehugging book geek.

He was also hotter than hot. Women's heads nearly twisted off their necks when he walked by. He might like books, but he also liked to work out. He'd been practicing tai chia type of martial art that strengthened the mind as well as the bodyfor longer than I'd been carrying a gun. But what had gotten to me in the end was his sense of humor, if not the golden feather that swung from one ear.

I never had figured out what Will saw in me. Guys like him usually go for a girl like Leigh, but he'd never given her a second glance. I'd have thought he was gay if I hadn't enjoyed multiple evidence to the contrary.

I was a big girleverywhere. My hair was neither brown nor blond, my eyes more shrewd than dreamy. I suppose I could have made myself presentable, if I'd cared, but I had better things to worry about.

I was tall, strong, in shape, because I had to be or die. I could drill a bullet through the eye of just about anything at a hundred yards. I had a job that I loved and a man I loved, too. Getting married . . . well, that hadn't been on my agenda.

Until the last time Will had asked me and I'd inexplicably said yes.

"I can't count how many people I've known who've gotten along just fine until they throw vows and rings and forever into the mix," I said. "Then
bam,
two months after the wedding they hate each other."

"That won't happen to you and Will. You'll be together forever."

"Forever isn't very long in our profession."

Understanding spread over Leigh's face. "Is that what's bugging you? That we might die tomorrow?"

"We might die tonight," I muttered.

One never knew.

"We're safe here."

'We aren't safe anywhere, Leigh, and you know it."

She shrugged.
"Safer
then. No one's going to sneak up on us in this place."

We'd rented out a lodge on Lake Superior in Minnesota. Will wanted to be married at the spirit tree, a twisted red cedar rumored to be three, four, even five hundred years old, depending upon whom you listened to. The tree was sacred to the Grand Portage Ojibwe, of which Will was one.

He'd grown up on the reservation, raised by his grandmother after his parents took off. When she'd died, he'd been passed to a succession of aunts and uncles.

Now none of them were alive, either, but Will remembered this place with a great deal of fondness and the tree with a great deal of respect.

Since I had no strong feelings one way or another, Grand Portage was okeydokey with me.

"What if someone does sneak up on us?" I asked.

"Then we know they're werewolves and we blast them into the hell dimension.

That's what we do, Jessie."

"I'd prefer we not be doing it at my wedding."

Hell, I'd prefer not to be having a wedding. So why was I?

Because I might be the roughest, toughest
JagerSucher
around, but when it came to Will Cadotte, I had no guts at all. I didn't want to lose him. And wasn't that just the saddest, most pathetic admission of all?

One night he'd blindsided me with a silver band and a moonshaped diamond.

With the bodies of wolves that weren't really wolves surrounding us, he'd pulled the thing from his pocket, slipped it onto my finger, and charmed me into marrying him.

Or maybe I'd just been charmed by the moon. Everyone else was.

"If Edward thinks we're safe, we are," Leigh said, and I knew she was right.

Our boss, Edward Mandenauer, was one spooky old man. But he was the best hunter on the planet. He knew how to set up a secure operation. If he said my wedding would be safe from werewolves, it would be, or he'd die trying to make it so. I trusted him with my life. More important, I trusted him with Will's.

Back in WW 2, Edward had been sent to obliterate Hitler's bestkept secreta werewolf army. Too bad they'd escaped before Edward could complete his mission. Not to worry, he hadn't stopped trying.

"Want some food?" Leigh stood.

"Gack." I imitated throwing up.

"Lovely. I can see why Cadotte's so enamored of you."

"I can't."

Leigh tilted her head. "You don't think he loves you?"

"I know he loves me. And I love him."

"Then
what
is your problem?"

"Marriage is an outdated custom that's run its course."

"Oookay." Leigh twisted her wedding ring around her finger.

"No offense," I said.

"None taken."

I threw up my hands. "I can't figure out why I said yes."

"You're just having cold feet."

Hope lightened the weight in my chest. "Did you?"

"Well, no."

The hope died. There was something seriously lacking in me if I was unable to commit to the only man I'd ever loved. But I'd suspected that for a long time.

"Maybe you should talk to Will," Leigh ventured.

"I thought it was bad luck to see him before the wedding."

"It's worse luck to get married if you aren't really sure."

She was right, except

"Every time I see him, I pretty much want to"

"Do him. I can understand that."

I rolled my eyes. "I was going to say 'agree with anything he says.'"

Leigh frowned. "That's not like you."

"Exactly."

Nevertheless, I needed to make one final attempt to figure out why I was in northern Minnesota with a wedding gown in the closet and an appointment with a justice of the peace at the spirit tree at just after four this afternoon.

There'd been a small amount of trouble obtaining permission to have a wedding there, since the Grand Portage band had bought the tree a few years back. A sanctioned guide was required if you wanted to go anywhere near the place.

I'd suggested a shaman perform the wedding, but Will insisted the ceremony be legal, which was a first.

He'd been arrested for more protests than he'd bothered to count. His activism on the part of the Native American community had put him on more law enforcement watch lists than even I knew about. I'd always found his police record kind of arousing. An embarrassment for a woman who'd always played by the rulesat least until I'd met him.

In the end Will had managed to get permission for the ceremony on the grounds that he was a member of the Grand Portage band and therefore part owner of the tree. Sounded like bullshit to me, but Will had always been very good at it.

I brushed my teeth and threw on jeans and a Tshirt; then with a wave for Leigh, I padded down the hall and knocked on Will's door.

No one answered. Maybe he was in the shower.

I used my key, stuck my head in just a little, and murmured, "Will?"

I didn't hear water or anything else. Feeling kind of guilty, I stepped inside.

The bed had been slept in. His wedding clothes were laid out. No tuxedo for him. Instead Will would wear traditional Ojibwe dress leggings, leather overskirt, a cotton blouse with beaded panels, and a pair of brightly beaded moccasins.

All of his things were here, but he wasn't, and I became uneasy. I wouldn't put it past one of the werewolves that had escapedand a few always didto kidnap Will in order to get to me.

I was a hunter, Will a professor. Sure he'd killed a few fanged and furry demons, but nowhere near what I had. Next to Edward and Leigh, I was the most feared

JagerSucher.
There had to be bounties on my head, and those who'd put them there wouldn't flinch at murdering the man I loved.

Lycanthropy is a virus passed through the saliva while in wolf form. Until recently the only cure was a silver bullet, which wasn't really a cure, but you get my drift.