Rise of the Blood

somewhere. It also meant that Nick got pushed aside in favor of my matching groomsman, Jason’s cousin Ernest, who had the most pronounced Adam’s apple I’d ever seen and who turned pink every time I looked at him. I thought he was going to have a stroke when I had to take his arm.

Uncle Christos walked almost at march, standing every centimeter of his five-foot-nine height, looking like a proud papa as he escorted Tina out of the hotel. Lining the streets were luminaries, light diffusers, roving cameramen and others high up in a cherry picker for the overhead shots. I did my best not to look at any of the cameras, which was fairly easy because the paper lanterns were so beautiful. Like something out of a dream or, yes, a romantic film. I wished it was Nick’s arm I was holding.

“That your boyfriend back there?” Ernest asked, nodding behind us toward where Nick and everyone else followed.

“Yeah,” I said, wondering whether it was okay for us to be talking. Tina hadn’t said, but I doubted the cameras would do more than pan past us, so I wasn’t too worried.

“He going to kill me for laying a hand on you?”

I laughed at that thought, and suddenly the image of a sword slashing and blood flying rose up to choke me and I stumbled.

Ernest caught me with a hand under my elbow. “I’m sorry, I was only kidding. I didn’t mean for you to take me seriously. I’m terrible at small talk, as you can see.”

I fought down the bile that had burned its way up my throat, leaving it stripped and raw. “It’s okay,” I rasped out. “I just…I’m no good at it either.” I worked to put a smile on my face. “No, he won’t kill you. He might even thank you for preventing me from falling on my face.”

“But it was my fault you stumbled. I shocked you.”

“Oh, it takes a lot more than that to shock me. It’s just been a long day.”

“I heard about your concussion. That’s probably it then, you’re still a little dizzy, between the altitude and the knock to the head—”

Oh gods. I hadn’t been looking or thinking beyond the lanterns. I hadn’t been thinking about the height…until then. Panic started to rise.

“Ernest, um, I don’t think we’re supposed to be talking. Maybe I should just focus on putting one foot in front of the other?”

His face went from pink to red. “Oh, yeah, sorry.”

He looked miserable and embarrassed, and I swore to make it up to him as soon as I could breathe without hyperventilating. If they sat us together at the reception, maybe I could give him my cake…if the ambrosia munchies allowed.

We made it to the oversized oaken doors of the church without incident. No Rhea. No quakes or men in black. No police or portents, except for the vague queasiness in my belly.

The doors opened before us, as if by magic, to reveal the inside of the church, lit by more of the paper lanterns, as well as candles over every surface. Branches had been laid along either side of the white runner that led toward the altar, heavy with deep green leaves and red berries. Straight ahead, the set designers had created a bower from a white trellis strung with climbing vines of what appeared to be poppies, only I didn’t think they grew that way, and little white mini-lights that glowed like fireflies. The altars were decorated with more of the berry-laden branches with flickering tea lights.

All I could see was doom. The place was a fire hazard, and the sickness in my stomach grew.

Clipboard guy hustled the women of the bridal party into a small anteroom, mercifully candle-free, and sent the men off to seat the guests.

I smiled at Ernest as he bowed to take his leave. Old-fashioned and charming. He dashed away, and as the doors closed us off from the guys, Tina suddenly folded like a subway map. I caught her before she could fall.

“Chair, someone!” I ordered, looking around for one myself.

Junessa was there in a flash with a folding chair from the stack against one wall. I lowered Tina into it. Her eyes were wide and shocky. “I can’t do it,” she said, her gaze meeting mine in appeal. “I thought I could, but I can’t. The cameras—on film. They say the camera adds ten pounds. What if I look huge? What if I stumble over my lines? What if they call ‘cut’ in the middle of my wedding?” Her voice rose with every word. “What was I thinking?”

“Get her a glass of—something,” I said to whoever would listen. Althea and Junessa exchanged a look. There was clearly nothing in this little room where they kept vestments and extra odds and ends. Althea let herself out of the room to find something, and I squatted in front of Tina and took her hands.

“Breathe,” I said. “Just breathe.”

The vision hit me like a two-ton truck. Tina gripping Jason as the earth lurched beneath their feet, screaming, fire erupting, panic and pain.

I let go of her hands with a gasp.

“What? What is it?” she asked. “Tori?”

I shook my head, trying to erase the vision like the lines from an Etch A Sketch, but it wasn’t that easy. Not nearly.

My heart pounded, but I made myself put on a show for Tina, starting with a smile.

“Nothing, just…your hands are so cold.”

Tina gave a little laugh. “Only because yours are so hot. You’re burning up!”

Probably my body trying to fight something off—like a body-stealing mother goddess.

Althea came rushing back with a flask.

“Whose?” I asked before I’d let her pass it to Tina. All we needed was the bride hooked on nectar or something to really kick this crisis into high gear.

“Spiro.”

I took the flask from Althea, who protested, and tested a drop myself.

“Whiskey,” I said.

“What did you expect?” Althea demanded, swiping the flask from me and handing it to Tina, who took a huge swig.

Althea grabbed it back. “Enough. That ought to warm you up.”

Tina coughed and nodded.

Althea dropped to her knees in front of Tina.

“It’s not too late to back out. Say the word and we’ll have you out of here.”

“What?” I pushed Althea out of the way and squatted down to Tina’s eye level. “You love him, right?”

Tina looked apologetically at Althea and nodded back at me.

“You want to marry him?”

She swallowed hard and brushed away at tears that threatened to fall and undo her perfect makeup. “Yes,” she said.

“So don’t let the cameras stop you. Don’t let anything stop you. The important thing here is that at the end of the day, you’re married, right?”

Tina sniffled.

“Right?” I asked again.

“Right,” she echoed.

She took a deep breath and smoothed down her dress as she stood. “I’m ready.”

“Good, because so are they,” Junessa said, peeking out through the door. “Let’s go.”

Tina went first, leading the way back into the small foyer where Uncle Christos and the groomsmen waited to escort us in.

She smiled transcendently and took Christos’s arm. I looked away, wishing I could appreciate the moment, but trying to spot whatever it was tying my stomach in knots. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but my inner alarms wouldn’t cease. I was wired. I wished I’d had more of that whiskey to settle my nerves.

Ernest held out his arm for me to take, and as I did he whispered, “Everything okay?”

“I hope so,” I whispered back.

Then we were walking down the aisle—slowly, as we’d been taught. Step. Pause. Step. Pause. I forced myself to smile at everyone, looking for particular faces in the crowd. Apollo with Serena right there beside him,