chapter Nine
I DO . . . OR DID I?
“SO,” Katie said as soon as they were outside of the crowded bar. “We had a wedding reception with the marrying priest in attendance. It would appear we are truly married.”
Cort nodded, letting himself take a moment to assimilate, as Saxon would say, that information. He had to admit he didn’t feel nearly as panicked by the idea as he should. As he always thought he’d feel. Shit, he hadn’t handled his last marriage this well. And he’d known Francesca his whole mortal life.
Weird.
He glanced at Katie. She was still painfully pale, partly because of her new state of being, but he suspected some of her wan pallor was also due to this information.
And truthfully, her reaction was far more normal than his own. Sure, they did see each other nearly every day. They did chat and occasionally have a drink together. That was it. And now Katie Lambert was Mrs. Berto Cortez, wife of a Bourbon Street musician and vampire.
“It’s pretty weird, isn’t it?” he said.
“Yeah. It is. This is all pretty weird.” Her blue eyes glittered like sapphires against her wan skin.
It might be weird, but Cort couldn’t deny that he was very, very attracted to his new wife. She was beautiful.
Of course, she couldn’t remain his wife. That was a ridiculous idea.
“We should probably go to the chapel and see what we can find out about having the marriage annulled,” he said, making certain to keep any emotion out of his voice.
She didn’t answer for a moment, then straightened, still pale but her eyes glittered even more, this time with what he thought was determination.
“I agree.” She didn’t wait for him as she started down the uneven sidewalk, weaving through a group of raucous partygoers.
Yeah, this was definitely not a woman who wanted to be married a moment longer than she had to be.
Katie knew it was silly, but she’d actually been hurt when Cort suggested an annulment. It was, of course, the most sensible course of action, but still, it did somehow feel like rejection.
You are being so silly.
How could she even be rejected by this man? She had to have some sort of relationship beyond casual friendship to be rejected.
And again, she told herself, it wasn’t like she didn’t have enough to worry about what with being a fanged, night dwelling blood drinker and all.
At the thought of blood, her stomach rumbled. She was hungry, but she knew she wouldn’t likely want anything she would have normally eaten.
“I’m a vegetarian.”
Cort’s pace slowed as he shot her a surprised glance.
“Really?”
“Well, I do eat fish, but no red meat or poultry or pork in nearly ten years.”
Cort didn’t say anything for a moment. “Well, you still won’t eat any of those things.”
Katie hadn’t expected that, and she couldn’t help from laughing. “But I will live on blood, right?”
She kept her voice low, just in case someone was in hearing range.
“Yes, we do live on blood.”
“Human blood?” she whispered.
He gave her a regretful look. “Yes.”
“So pop culture has that one right,” she said.
He nodded. “There are some who live on human life force, draining energy rather than blood, which might have been more appealing to you. But unfortunately you are a straight-up, run-of-the-mill vampire. And you drink blood.”
“Run-of-the-mill vampire,” she repeated with a cough of humorless laughter. There was nothing run-of-the-mill to her about this situation.
“Well, like you said, the vampires of pop culture. We can’t go out into the sun—I hope you weren’t a sun worshipper.”
She shook her head. She really wasn’t. She just freckled. Still, it was hard to imagine never seeing the sun again.
“You can eat,” Cort continued, “but it will make you sick. Some vampires do though, just to keep up normal appearances. And we can drink alcohol—as last night would prove.”
“So I will just run around biting people?”
God, that idea was awful, mainly because she didn’t find it awful at all. Just yesterday a hot dog would have made her gag, now she was salivating over the idea of sinking her teeth into human flesh. So much for all those years of ethical eating. And the worst part was, if the tingle rippling her body was an indication, she found the idea . . . thrilling. Hummus certainly never got her so excited, that was for sure.
“Some vampires feed directly from humans,” Cort said. “But the band guys and I usually drink bagged blood.”
“Bagged blood? Like donated blood?”
Cort nodded. “It’s a bit like frozen dinners. Not as good as a home-cooked meal, but definitely easier and more convenient. And definitely less complicated.”
“Less complicated?”
“Biting humans can be quite problematic. We can take too much blood, which is dangerous. The human can become addicted to the ecstasy of the vampire’s bite, which can lead to weird stalker situations. We can accidentally cross a human over—like what happened to you. It’s just safer to go prepackaged.”
Katie nodded, trying to take everything in. “Shouldn’t I be . . . hungrier? I mean, as a new vampire? In movies, it always seems like newly crossed over vampires are ravenous.”
Cort nodded. “Yes, that’s another movie portrayal that’s totally true. As soon as the crossing over is complete, the new vampire is starving. So I suspect you fed last night and are still satiated. Otherwise we’d know. You’d be toothy and frantic.”
Now there was an image.
She stopped walking, realizing exactly what he’d just said. “Do you think I hurt someone?”
Cort stopped, too, turning toward her. He reached for her hands, holding them in his much larger ones. “To be honest, I’m not really sure. Let’s face it, we have no idea about anything we did last night. But I’d like to think if I was with you, I wouldn’t have let you do that.”
Given that he was totally right, that they didn’t have any idea what had happened last night, his reassurance shouldn’t have made her feel better. But it did.
Or maybe it was his hands, surprisingly warm with strong, long fingers and broad palms, yet so gently cupping hers. She looked down at their joined fingers. Their gold bands glinted in the streetlights.
What would it be like to be married to a man like this for real?
No, not a man, a vampire. And what was the point of even thinking that way? They were about to find out about an annulment. This was not the time to be getting dreamy. Not the time at all.
“We should probably get to the chapel,” she said, slowly pulling her hands away from his.
“Right,” he agreed, seeming to snap out of his own thoughts. Was he thinking about their crazy marriage, too? Or had he noticed her moony expression and was wondering what the heck was wrong with her?
“Going to the chapel, and I’m going to get married,” the parrot crooned in its eerie falsetto as they started walking again.
Not this time, Katie thought. Not this time. And she was damned silly for feeling sad about that fact.
* * *
“THIS IS IT,” Cort said, stopping in front of a brick building with a white awning over the door.
“I never would have known this was a wedding chapel. Have you been here before?” she asked, looking from the building to Cort.
“Aside from possibly last night, you mean?” He offered her a sheepish smile.
“Yeah,” she said. She returned his smile with one of her own, although he could see it didn’t quite reach her deep blue eyes.
“I actually have. To be a witness for Drake.”
“Drake is married?” Katie had never noticed Drake with one particular woman. In fact, most of the time, he seemed to have a new flavor of the week . . . or even day.
“No,” Cort said, shaking his head, his smile wry now. “But he did almost marry a stripper.”
“What happened?”
“He realized he was about to almost marry a stripper.”
“Strippers need love, too,” Katie said, smiling. “Besides, you married a washboard girl.”
“A very cute washboard girl,” he said.
Katie’s smile faded, and he immediately regretted the comment. Especially since her smile had been real and she’d looked more like herself in that moment than she had all night.
“At least briefly, right?” he added, hoping she’d be comforted that they could at least rectify this one issue. “Come on, let’s go see what happened here.”
He hesitated just a second when they reached the door, but then he grabbed the handle and shoved it open. A bell rang announcing their entrance.
He got only the impression of silk flowers and draping white cloth before a woman, who looked like she should be flitting about the room with little wings while strumming a harp, bustled into the room.
“Can I help—” Her cherubic smile faded as soon as she saw them.
Great, someone else who was less than pleased to see them.
“Oh, you two,” the lady said, actually looking nervous. She glanced over her shoulder as if searching for reinforcements. When she didn’t see anyone coming, she turned back to them, forcing a smile. “You’re back.”
“We are,” Cort said, glancing at Katie, whose pretty lips were pulled downward into a worried frown. She clearly hadn’t missed the woman’s reaction either.
“Well, it’s lovely to see you are . . . feeling so much better,” the cherub said, with a sympathetic smile.
Feeling better? Cort wasn’t sure about that.
The lady continued, “But as we told you last night, the parrot cannot serve as your witness.”
Oh dear God, they’d tried to have the parrot as their witness. Really?
Katie shook her head slightly, but she didn’t react any further. Cort supposed, given what they’d discovered thus far, trying to have a parrot as a best man—or maid of honor—wasn’t much of a shock.
“We know that,” Cort said easily as if he remembered their antics from the night before, even though everything else he was about to say would reveal they had no idea what happened. Period. “We’re actually just checking here, because it seems we did get married.”
He raised his left hand to show the ring. Katie showed hers, too.
“And it doesn’t sound as if we got married here,” he added.
“Indeed you did not.” A man in a black suit and tie entered the room and stopped beside the cherub.
Yet again, another person who wasn’t pleased with them. One thing was becoming clear. It was probably a good thing they didn’t remember their night. They hadn’t made any friends, that’s for sure.
“Is this the only twenty-four-hour chapel in the Quarter?” Cort asked.
The man nodded. “It is.”
“Do you happen to have a priest who works here?”
“This is a nondenominational chapel,” the man said, his tone haughty, “and I’m the only reverend.”
Cort nodded, instantly uncomfortable with the man’s air of superiority. In fact, he really wanted to walk out. After all, they hadn’t married here, and that was all they needed to know, right?
Even as he told himself that, Katie asked, “Do you have any idea where we could have been married?”
“I don’t,” the man said, “but I know if you were still in the same state you were when you arrived here, then whoever he was shouldn’t have married you. I certainly could not agree to it.”
Again, Cort didn’t like his tone. As if this man didn’t encounter all sorts of inebriated people in the Crescent City.
“Why wouldn’t you marry us?” Katie asked, and Cort shot her a surprised look. Surely she wasn’t so na?ve as to not realize what the reverend was saying.
“Well, you were very drunk.”
Katie had to know that was what he was going to give as his answer.
“And there appeared to be blood on your clothes.”
Cort’s attention snapped back to the reverend. Now that answer he hadn’t expected.
“Blood?”
The reverend and the cherub both nodded.
“Both of us?” Katie asked.
“Just you,” the reverend said to her. “I think you can understand my misgivings at the whole situation.”
Cort could, but he still didn’t like the man’s attitude. Definitely not that of Christian concern, but rather holier-than-thou judgment.
So it really irked Cort to have to ask, “Did we tell you what happened?”
“Not exactly,” the reverend said. He crossed his arms, looking decidedly unimpressed. “But you did have the strangest reason for needing to marry.”
“We did?” Katie asked, her voice reedy like it had been back in his apartment.
The reverend nodded, as did the cherub.
“Yes, you kept saying that you had to marry,” the reverend looked at Cort, “because you bit her.”
Cort had bitten her. Beside him, Katie swayed slightly on her feet, and he immediately put out an arm to steady her. To his shock, she allowed his touch, even after finding out he’d been the one. The one who crossed her over.
Why? Why?
“You bit me,” Katie said, her voice strange, totally dazed. Cort watched her for a moment, then realized the other two were watching both of them, one bewildered, the other suspicious.
The reverend knew something. Something he shouldn’t.
“Well, that certainly is an odd reason to insist on marriage,” Cort said, trying to sound amused. “Isn’t it, sweetheart?”
Katie looked at him, her eyes clouded with a mixture of confusion and disbelief, but she nodded.
Cort gave her an encouraging smile, and she seemed to realize he was trying to get her to calm down. She even managed a slight smile of her own in return.
The reverend nodded, his expression relaxing—but only a little.
“And of course there was your odd choice of witnesses,” the reverend added. “The bird, of course. And some long-haired fellow who kept trying to touch my cross.”
“He even knocked that one down off the wall.” The cherub pointed to a small cross adorning the entryway wall. “It hit him in the head and he carried on like he was dying. He claimed it burned him and he ran out of the chapel.”
“Saxon,” Cort said softly, shaking his head. Damn, they might as well have walked in and announced they were vampires looking for a late-night wedding deal. Cort got the feeling this man had put the pieces together.
“Our friend can be quite overdramatic when he drinks,” Cort said, forcing a laugh. He really didn’t want this reverend to continue believing what Cort suspected he did.
All they needed was a wedding chapel officiant turned all Van Helsing after them. And this man looked like he would relish such a position.
“Saxon does like to act ridiculous when he drinks,” Katie agreed, surprising Cort with her own little laugh. Man, this woman could rally.
The reverend’s gaze was still probing, but he nodded as if he accepted their excuses.
“And then there was the final reason I could not possibly marry you,” he finally said.
Oh shit, was this the point where he dramatically announced that he knew they were the cursed undead and he was going to put them permanently back in their graves.
The reverend turned and walked over to an ornate cupboard, bending down to open it.
Beside Cort, Katie must have wondered the same thing, because she shifted closer to him. Cort tightened his hold on her waist, not quite sure what the reverend was going to do either. But if he did come charging toward them with a pointy wooden stake or holy water or a rope of garlic, Cort knew he had a better chance of protecting them than she did.
The reverend reached into the cabinet but Cort couldn’t see what he was getting.
“I think you will be wanting this,” the reverend said, his back still toward them.
Cort, of course, couldn’t feel his heart pounding in his chest, but he knew it would have been, if he were alive.
The reverend turned, and both Cort and Katie just stared.
He walked toward them with a cookie jar in the shape of a bust of Elvis cradled in both hands.
“The final reason I couldn’t marry you two,” the reverend said, stopping in front of Cort, who still held Katie tight to his side, “you kept demanding I take this as payment for the ceremony. Perhaps this would be accepted as currency in Las Vegas, but here, not so much.” The reverend held the cookie jar out to Cort.
“Hunk-a-hunk-a burnin’ love,” the parrot trilled.
Cort, almost too weak with relief to move, hesitated for a moment before taking the kitschy cookie jar. This had been Johnny’s urn. Why had they had it?
“I hate to appear mercenary,” the reverend said, “but this chapel is also a business.”
“Going to the chapel,” the parrot said in his annoying singsong falsetto.
“Very understandable,” Cort said after shooting the bird a look. “We understand your reason for declining to marry us. We also appreciate you being so understanding of our conditions.”
The cherub receptionist smiled, and Cort got the feeling she was pleased to see there wasn’t going to be any trouble from them, so now she could relax.
The reverend, however, didn’t exude any more warmth than he had from the moment he’d arrived in the room.
“Thank you for holding on to this for us.” Cort lifted the cookie jar slightly.
“Certainly.”
“Well, I think we should be going,” Cort said, tucking the jar under one arm like a football. He placed his free hand on the small of Katie’s back, ushering her toward the door.
Once outside, Katie stopped on the sidewalk, looking back at the chapel.
“Maybe we should stop trying to find out what happened last night,” Katie said. “Things keep getting weirder and weirder.”