My Big Fat Demon Slayer Wedding

spinning. “I’ll have Flappy stand guard.”

Right. “Because a dragon standing outside a tower isn’t at all suspicious.”

He didn’t get the irony.

Still, Flappy was the best we had. He was loyal, good at guarding things, and he wasn’t drinking my mom’s tea. All three were plusses in my book.

I tried to open the door on the ground floor level, but there was no way to unlock it from the inside.

“As soon as Grandma sobers up, we’ll get her out here,” I said as we climbed the stairs. Lord knew how we’d get her inside.

Pirate missed a step. “You mean she’s not watching her sandwiches?”

“Focus,” I told my dog.

Flappy managed to get us down from the tower, with my dog whooping the whole way. He was on cloud nine. I was less so as we headed back to the house.

I didn’t know what we’d found, but I didn’t like it. I needed things to be normal—well as normal as they could be—for one week. Was that too much to ask?

Apparently so.

When we got back to the house, we found Sidecar Bob at the Steinway, belting out Only The Good Die Young like he was at a piano bar.

He’d slapped a few new stickers onto his wheelchair and had crammed a pint of Southern Comfort into the cup holder. His long gray hair stuck out in tufts from his ponytail.

“I thought boys didn’t come to tea parties,” I said, tugging on his ponytail.

“I crashed,” he said, grinning.

He had five cups lined up on the piano. I was glad to see at least one was filled with nickels, pennies, and quarters.

Meanwhile, my wedding tea party attendees had pushed the couches, chairs, and tables to the side of the room. Some witches were actually napping on them. Mom was dancing in a motley circle with at least a dozen Red Skulls. She’d taken off her shoes, wedding reception style, and was wearing Grandma’s yellow bow in her hair.

I stopped for a second. It was truly a sight to see. I couldn’t help but grin. If this was how my reception turned out, I’d be glad.

Or maybe I was just high on life after almost falling off a dragon. Twice.

I backed up toward Bob, who was blowing kisses at the end of his song.

“Hey,” I said, before he started in on another one, “have you guys warded for demons?”

He tisked. “It’s the first thing we do. Now go act like a bride. Have fun. You know what fun is, right?”

I gave him a saucy smile. “Yes, but Dimitri isn’t here yet.”

He responded with a cheery rendition of AC/DC’s You Shook Me All Night Long.

Ah, well, it’s always good to have crazy musicians rooting for you.

In the meantime, Mom spotted me and waved for me to join in.

I walked on over and gave her a hug instead. She smelled like a case of champagne. “I’m beat,” I said into her ear, hoping she could hear me. “But thank you so much for the tea party with my friends. It was magic.” Literally.

She tried to turn the hug into a dance, but I kissed her on the cheek and headed for the stairs. After a few steps, I stopped. I didn’t know where my room was.

My mom seemed to realize it at that exact moment as well because she broke away from the group and took my hand, dragging me out into the foyer like we were school kids.

At least it wasn’t as loud out here.

She couldn’t stop giggling.

“Hey Mom, have you been out in the garden?” I asked, in the loaded question of the century.

“Of course,” she trilled. “I made diagrams. I was thinking of trimming down the rose garden and having the wedding out there. It’s so pretty.” She held up a finger. “Unless we use the huge, huge grand arch near the back. But we’d have to edit the fountain out of the pictures because I don’t want unicorns with penises in the shot.”

I didn’t even know my mom knew that word.

And I was going to have to see that fountain.

I slipped an arm through hers as we took the stairs. “What do you know about the tower near the rose garden?”

“You can’t get close,” she said, leaning heavily against me. “The gate’s locked.”

“Not anymore,” I told her.

If she heard me, she didn’t let on.

“Here’s your room,” she said, stopping in front of the second door on the left.

It held an antique four-poster bed with a rich ivory spread and pillows embroidered with birds. The dresser, nightstand, and mirror were all rich, dark wood and very old.

“My room is next door,” she said. “You don’t even need to go out into the hall to reach me. We connect. Like this.” She walked over to a door by my dresser and opened it to reveal a similar suite, done in Oakwood and yellow. “Dimitri’s room is across the hall.”

I don’t know what passed across my face, but my mom’s good mood disappeared.

“I know how you kids are these days and that won’t be happening under my roof.”

“This is a rental,” I said, hoping for a loophole. Counting on it.

“All the same.” Drawing her shoulders back, losing the drunk walk. “You tell him no monkey business because I’m not comfortable talking about sexual things with men I’ve barely met.”

Oh, geez. “You didn’t say that to him, did you?”

“No. He’s not here yet.”

That was strange. He’d had to run a quick errand for his clan, but he should have been here by now. I hoped he was okay.

Her face pinched. “You tell him. If he is going to marry my daughter, he needs to keep his Johnson in his drawers.”

Suddenly I wished the house were cursed so the floor could swallow me whole.

“Don’t get too worked up until you meet him. Okay?”

She nodded one too many times. “When he gets here. When is he going to get here?”

“Soon.” I hoped.

I didn’t know what had happened to the groom.

Chapter Six

Dimitri should have arrived by nightfall. He wasn’t answering his phone, or my multiple texts.

Something had to be wrong.

But there was nowhere to go. Nothing I could do about it. And so I sat out on the front porch, waiting.

It was the curse of being a demon slayer. I didn’t worry about traffic jams or the chance that he’d lost his cell phone or gotten it wet. My mind was filled with…other things.

The cool evening air cut through the thin fabric of my dress, and I rubbed at my chilly arms. What I’d give for a sweater. Or for my fiance to appear from around the curve in the long driveway.

Laughter and general mayhem from the tea-turned-karaoke party filtered out into the night. I didn’t even want to think about what else they might be doing in there. The Darjeeling was certainly flowing.

I stood and immediately regretted it as the chilly air blew straight up my dress. I paced to keep warm.

It didn’t help.

I was checking my phone—again—when there was a rustling in the bushes to my left. I turned quickly and