Elara glided down the aisle, feminine and graceful. Regal. She walked alone, and he realized the significance of it. She was giving herself away of her own free will. There was no father. Nobody had the right to walk her down the aisle.
Every gaze followed her. As she moved between his people and hers, the unease vanished from the Dogs. They watched her the way they would watch a clear sunrise after a night storm. Elara smiled at them, and they smiled back.
That’s why her people followed her, Hugh realized. This was it, right here.
She walked up to the altar, beautiful like a vision. He was marrying a queen from a fairy tale.
Hugh held his hand out to her. She put her fingers into his and together they walked up three steps to the altar. She smiled at him, and something in his chest moved.
He had to break the illusion, so he made his mouth work. “Nobody to walk you down the aisle?”
Elara didn’t look at him, her eyes fixed on the pastor. “I don’t need anyone to give me away.”
He needed more. She was still too beautiful, too regal, too much.
“Aren’t you supposed to have some little kids running around throwing flowers? Or did you sacrifice them on the way?”
Her face jerked. “Yes, I did. And I devoured their souls.”
There she was. “Good to know. The photographer is snapping pictures. Say cheese, love.”
Elara gave him a brilliant happy smile. “Cheese, dickhead.”
He did his best to look the way a groom might if he was actually marrying this creature and imagining getting her out of that gown tonight. “Rabid harpy.”
“Bastard.”
The pastor, a man in his thirties with dark hair and glasses, stared at them, his mouth slack.
“Start the ceremony,” Hugh told him, putting some menace into his voice.
“Before we kill each other,” Elara said.
The pastor cleared his throat. “Dearly beloved…”
Elara turned to Hugh, her face glowing with happiness. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve thought it was real.
“…in matrimony commended to be honorable…”
Hugh reached deep, looked back at her with the same affection and saw a flicker of doubt in her eyes. Ha.
“…these two people decided to live their lives as one.”
Perish the thought, he mouthed.
Shut up, she mouthed back with that same dazzling smile.
“If any person knows of a just reason why these two should not be joined together, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
Silence. Good. Perhaps he would get through this without killing anyone.
“Hugh d’Ambray, do you, with your friends and family as witnesses, present yourself willingly and of your own accord to be joined in marriage?”
“I do.”
“Elara Harper, do you, with your friends and family as witnesses, present yourself willingly and of your own accord to be joined in marriage?”
There was the tiniest pause, then she said, “I do.”
“Hugh, repeat after me. I, Hugh d’Ambray, take you, Elara, to be my lawfully wedded wife. I promise to stay by your side in sickness and in health, in joy and in sorrow. I promise to love you, comfort you, and cherish you above all others.”
He repeated the words, infusing them with the same sincerity that let him convince people again and again to trust him despite their best judgement.
“With this ring, I give you my heart. From this day forward you will no longer walk alone. I will be your shelter in the storm of life.”
She held out her hand, and he slipped the ring on her finger. Her eyes widened. That’s right. Surprise was good. She was off balance now.
“Elara, repeat after me…”
He heard her swear to love him. Then he held his hand out and she slid a ring on his finger, a white band with a braid of black and silver running along its length. It suited him. She’d thought about him too. For some odd reason, he liked that.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss.”
Hugh stepped toward her. “Try to make this look good.”
“I’ll do my best not to vomit in your mouth.”
Is that so? Okay. He wrapped his hand around the back of her head, feeling the silky strands of her hair slip through his fingers, leaned forward, and kissed her. She gasped a little into his mouth, and he kissed her the way he would kiss a woman he was trying to seduce, enticing, promising, claiming her. She tasted fresh and sweet. What do you know? He had expected poison and ash.
People cheered. Elara dug her fingernails into his arm. He nipped her lip on the way out and let her go.
She looked like she would claw him bloody.
He turned toward the crowd, his hand in hers, grinned and waved. She turned with him, smiling like today was the happiest day of her life, and waved. He had to give it to her. The woman could control herself.
Magic flooded them as a magic wave hit. His breath caught in his throat, then power came pouring in.
A woman caught his eye. She stood completely still in the middle of the reception area, away from the crowd. Middle-aged, dishwater blond hair.
He heard the sharp intake of Elara’s breath.
The woman raised a knife with both hands and buried it in her own stomach, twisting the blade. Magic exploded in the middle of the reception area. Hugh couldn’t see it, but he felt the blast. He grabbed his sword out of Stoyan’s hand. By the time the blast of magic flared into a churning knot of darkness, Hugh was already moving.
The crowd surged in the opposite direction. Elara’s people grabbed the children and fled to the back, to the altar. He didn’t need to look to know that behind him the Dogs were breaking into a charge.
The darkness split. A beast spilled out. It towered above the reception, thirty feet tall, a hairy thing of long matted fur, hide, and bone. It hunched over on all fours, its limbs disproportionate and long, almost level with its head as it squatted. Its long skull ended in horse-like jaws holding a forest of crooked fangs. Above the teeth, two small black eyes stared at the world, and above them the fur flared into a dark mane between two wildebeest horns. The stench washed over Hugh, the sour acidic reek of rotting manure. A tikbalang. Not the modern shapeshifter version but the primordial ancient creature from Philippine nightmares.
The tikbalang’s magic drenched Hugh. It wasn’t his own brand of power, or Roland’s orderly manipulation. This was foul and wild, a sucker punch to the lizard brain. Witch magic gone corrupt.
The tikbalang screamed. Eight smaller versions of the beast popped into existence around it, each the size of a small sedan. They saw the fleeing crowd and gave chase.
The first leaped over the table toward Hugh. The wedding cake exploded, and the dark body hurtled toward him. He sidestepped and swung, putting the entire power of his momentum and weight into the swing. The sword cleaved through the tikbalang’s neck. The beast’s head rolled off. Thick red blood gushed from the stump in a torrent, as if the creature were a canteen filled with it. The stench turned his stomach.
Hugh vaulted over the table. Another beast sprinted at him from the side. He sidestepped and carved a gash across the creature’s shoulder as it tore past.
The Dogs charged past him, aiming at the bigger beast.
His smaller tikbalang whipped around and bore down on him. Hugh dodged and sliced a gash across its right legs, severing the tendons.
The massive beast screeched again and slapped a body in black. A woman flew past Hugh. Gina. He snapped his magic, healing her broken ribs before she landed, dodged again, spinning, and buried his blade between the beast’s ribs. He felt the brief resistance as the sword slid into the tough muscle of the creature’s heart, then the muscle released, and he jerked his sword free. Blood splashed him. The tikbalang fell at his feet with a moan.