Chapter 15
"So-what do you think?" Nessie asked as she exited the dressing room in a gorgeous flowing, off-the-shoulder bridal gown that made her look like a goddess.
"Hmm-what?" I blinked and gave my head a tiny shake to clear my thoughts. "Oh. Yes. It's very-white."
"I think it looks positively lovely on you," the personal assistant said, somehow managing to smile while shooting me a Medusa look.
The bridal salon-excuse me, atelier-that Vanessa had chosen for her wedding gown was one of those Lexington Avenue boutiques where the bride-to-be and her party get the run of the whole store-excuse me, workshop-complete with personal sales assistant, champagne, and hors d'oeuvres. Normally something like this was far outside Nessie's budget-hand-thrown urns for cremated pets don't pay that well-but her father had offered to foot the bill, possibly out of lingering Catholic guilt for ditching the first Mrs. Sullivan for a sleeker, younger model during Nessie's sophomore year in high school.
The personal assistant was right, though. I deserved that Medusa look. Nessie and I had been looking forward to this afternoon for weeks, and now that it had arrived, I was ruining it by staring off into space and being so distant I might as well be on Mars.
"Could you excuse us for a few minutes?" Nessie asked politely.
The personal assistant, an older woman with frosted hair and horn-rim glasses with a tailor's tape draped around her neck like a feather boa, removed the half-empty bottle of champagne from the ice bucket. "I'll bring something a little fresher," she said with a sigh, and disappeared from the room.
Vanessa sat down on the chaise lounge beside me and took my hand and gave it a squeeze. "God, I'm so sorry I dragged you to this place. But it was either today or three months from now."
"It's okay, Nessie," I replied. "I needed to get out of Golgotham anyway. Things are extremely . . . tense down there."
"I can just imagine. That video was . . ." She closed her eyes and shuddered. "Did they identify the victim?"
I nodded my head sadly. "His name was Quid. He was a friend of ours."
"Oh, Tate-I'm so sorry," she gasped. "I didn't realize! I would have canceled this whole thing if I'd had any idea."
"I know you would've." I smiled. "That's why I didn't say anything earlier. This is really important to you, and I didn't want to ruin it."
Nessie threw her arms around me and gave me a quick hug. "You are the best friend I've ever had. And you know I love you like a sister, so don't take what I'm about to say the wrong way-but do you really think it's a good idea for you to go back there?"
"Golgotham's my home, Nessie. Even now, I'm still happier there than I ever was on the Upper East Side. I know you're worried about me, but so far the only ones getting hurt are Kymerans."
"Yeah-so far. Aren't you afraid of a backlash?"
"Yes, to tell you the truth, I am," I admitted. "But I canin id to dth="1et live my life being afraid, Nessie. Besides, Hexe has my back."
"I'm relieved to hear it. Still, if it gets too hairy down there, you're more than welcome to stay with me until things settle down. It'll be great. We can sit up all night and eat ice cream and make fun of crappy movies, just like we did in college."
"What about Adrian? Doesn't he have something to say about me crashing on his couch?"
"Him? He can go stay with his brother." She laughed. "Besides, he's not supposed to see the bride before the wedding, anyway."
"That sounds very tempting, but I'm going to take a rain check. I'm afraid Scratch will do something like stuff Beanie up the chimney or roll him up in a window shade if I'm gone too long."
"You and that dog," Nessie said ruefully. "Every time I check your Facebook page, all I see are photos of Beanie sleeping, Beanie eating, Beanie asleep in his food! You're going to make a hell of a mom someday."
"Bite your tongue!" I laughed. "I'm nowhere near ready for something like that! If there are two things that don't go together, it's acetylene torches and diapers. I've got my hands full enough as it is with just a gassy Boston terrier and a talking hairless cat. Now, about this gown . . ."
After trying on several more wedding dresses, and emptying another bottle of champagne, Vanessa finally decided on a strapless Junko Yoshioka with a mermaid skirt, a satin ribbon waist-belt, and a lace shrug. The sales assistant seemed impressed by the final choice-and relieved to be free of us.
As Nessie climbed into her cab to return home, I promised I would stay safe and out of trouble. Once we went our separate ways, I headed down to the East Village to do a little shopping of my own before going back home.
It was dusk by the time I emerged from the subway. Normally I make my way home down Perdition Street, through the Gate of Skulls, but I couldn't bring myself to walk over the spot where Quid's body had been found, so I headed down Morder Lane instead.
The first couple of blocks the traffic on the street was fairly heavy, and there were plenty of human faces to be seen, thanks to nearby Witch Alley, but once I put the open-air magic bazaar behind me, those numbers dwindled fast. As I passed the shuttered Two-Headed Calf, I saw the scorched cobblestones that marked where the NYPD's response vehicle had exploded.
Upon arriving home, I opened the door to find Hexe putting on his coat.
"There you are!" he said. "I was just getting ready to leave. How was your afternoon with Nessie?"
"It was okay," I replied. "Where are you going?"
"I got a call from one of my clients; I need to make an emergency house call. You didn't run into any trouble getting to and from the subway, did you?"
"Not really," I replied. I decided not to launch into a retelling of my run-in with Dori. Maybe, after some time had passed, it would mellow into one of those "look back and laugh" incidents, but for the time being it was still too new and unpleasant for me to relish reliving it.
"That's good. Still, I'm glad you got back home before it got too late. I don't think it would be a good idea for you to be out on the streets tonight."
"Because of theBecace rally?" I asked, showing him the flyer the leprechaun had handed me.
Hexe nodded, a disgusted look on his face. "I'm afraid my uncle's using this Sons of Adam atrocity to push his anti-human agenda."
"Are you going to check it out?" I asked. I'd been seriously considering crashing the rally ever since I saw the flyer, and had even gone so far as to stop by Trash and Vaudeville on St. Marks Place to score electric-green temporary hair dye for camouflage. I figured if I wore tinted shades and kept my hands stuffed in my pockets, I'd be able to pass as Kymeran long enough to get an earful of whatever Esau was spouting.
He shook his head, a sour look on his face. "Some in the audience might read my being there as an endorsement. I'm not going anywhere near it-and the same goes for you. I don't want you to leave the house, except to take Beanie to the garden. Understand me?"
"I don't like it, but I understand," I said grudgingly. Although part of me resented being told to stay home, I knew it was simply because he was concerned for my safety.
"Good. I've got to run," he said, giving me a quick peck on the cheek as he headed out the door. "Don't bother waiting up for me-odds are I'm going to be late."
Beanie came scampering up to tell me hello, and I could tell by the excited way he was dancing around that he needed to go outside. As I ushered the puppy into the backyard, I told myself that I hadn't really just lied to my boyfriend, because I never actually said I wouldn't go to the rally, just that I understood why he didn't want me to leave the house. And as much as I wanted to be a good girlfriend, I was determined that I was not going to be run out of my new home without a fight. And if that meant sneaking into an anti-human rally disguised as a Kymeran to see what I was up against, then that was what I had to do, boyfriend or not.
I took the amulet Hexe had given me out from under my clothes in order to reexamine it. The eye was no longer cloudy; in fact, it seemed to wink at me in the light from the rising moon, as if it knew what I was scheming.