We lay together for a long moment, content to simply be with each other. I held out my hand and gazed at my ring, the skye stones twinkling with a life of their own.
His breath was warm against my neck. “Good morning,” he murmured.
“Can I stay here forever?” Demons be damned, we had our slice of peace.
He rolled onto his back, taking me with him. “You want my honest opinion?”
My head felt heavy against the rise and fall of his chest. “Always.”
“I can’t believe nobody’s barged in on us yet.”
True. I forced myself to sit. We might as well be dressed once they decided to invade. And Dimitri was right. They would.
He planted a kiss on my head as he slid out of bed behind me. “Happy official wedding day.”
I tossed a pillow at his fine, naked backside. “I’m glad we did it yesterday,” I said, moving to join him in the shower.
He grinned. “Me too.”
***
By the time we finished a clumsy, yet enthusiastic and ultimately fruitful bout of love in the shower, (I’m telling you now, small spaces and slippery tile do not make it easy), we managed to dress without incident.
“Are you ready to do this?” Dimitri asked as I quickly pulled on a sundress.
“Hey,” I said, wondering exactly what we planned to do about a real gown. “As long as I’m with you, I can do anything.”
The household was in a tizzy when I wandered out into the hall.
“You’re on my shit list,” Ant Eater said, stalking past. She wore an honest-to-God dress. Where she’d gotten it, I had no clue. It was a simple green tunic that was actually quite appropriate. “I’ve got the super glue!” she hollered out.
A door opened down the way, and Frieda’s head poked out. “Then what are you doing yelling about it? Get your ass in here.”
Dimitri pulled his tux out of the closet. “It’ll only take me about five minutes to get dressed.”
Showoff. I took a step forward and nearly made mincemeat of Pirate, who was lying in the doorway.
“Whoa, baby dog!” I stumbled to avoid him. “Watch out.”
He leapt up, colliding with my ankle before turning in a circle and plopping down in the middle of the traffic way.
“
He’d always been happy snuggling up with Sidecar Bob, or one of the other Red Skulls. Then again, the wedding was an adjustment for him as well. “I’m sorry, bub,” I said, lowering my hand to pet him.
He ducked away, and Aunt Ophelia and another woman dodged him, tittering under their breath as they saw me coming out of Dimitri’s room.
It didn’t even matter. Pirate’s mood had instantly lifted because I was paying attention to him, and well, he was a dog. He got off on that.
“You don’t even know what’s going on.” He turned in a circle and sat, “Creely was up exploring the attic where nobody is supposed to go, and she found you a dress!”
Great. “I didn’t even know there was an attic.”
Whatever they’d found, it better be easier on the eyes than my mom’s couture gown. Then again, what did it matter? I was already married in every way that counted. This ceremony, put on for show, was merely a formality—and hopefully, not a disaster.
I still needed to figure out who was possessed and who had stolen my necklace. The protective power I’d gained from Dimitri might have bought us some time, but no telling how much.
Pirate pawed at the floor, his nails clicking against the hardwood. “The dress is in Hillary’s room, where she wants you to get ready. She says she doesn’t want your hands down Dimitri’s pants on your wedding day.”
Too late. And heavens to Betsy, “I can’t believe she said that.”
“I only repeat what I hear.” Pirate said proudly, his tail up. “Now she says you have less than an hour, and you need all the time you can get to look good, and do you want to follow me over there or do you want them coming after you?”
I took a few quick steps back to plant a quick kiss on Dimitri’s lips. “See you at the wedding, hot stuff.”
He smiled as he buttoned his shirt. “Gird your loins.”
Pirate showed me across the hall. Because I needed a dog to find my way.
Inside the ready room, I found mom, Creely and Grandma. I was glad they appeared healthy, and so far, untouched, but part of me longed to see a few of my friends from Atlanta. Of course, we’d told everyone to stay away.
I fought back a wave of regret. It’s not like I’d taken time out to visit in the past year anyway.
Geez, what was I doing? This was a ceremony, nothing more.
“We have something for you,” my mom trilled. She led me over to the bed, with an intricate wedding dress draped over it. “It’s antique,” she said, lifting it carefully.
“It’s a ‘beaut,” Grandma agreed.
The gown was constructed of ivory silk. It had aged perfectly, saved for a sepia tone to the formerly white gown. The bodice featured a lace overlay, woven into a tiny rose pattern. The floor length cut draped longer in the back, creating a beautiful silk train.
“See?” Grandma nudged Creely. “That was worth breaking into the steamer trunk.”
Creely shrugged. “I told you I could have gotten the combination if you’d have given me another minute.”
“Here, let me,” mom said, taking it from me so I could step back and see the intricately cut sleeves, and touch my fingers to the tapered waist and the boned silk collar.
The realization slammed down on me and I yanked my hands back like the fricking thing was on fire. “That’s the dead bride’s dress.”
“Who?” Everyone said, except for Creely.
She merely nodded. “I thought of that,” she said, far too flippantly for my taste. “But you know who probably made it,” she reached for the collar of the dress, “the girls’ mother, maybe her grandmother as well. If she was still around.” She turned the seam out. “Look. Hand stitched. Somebody put a lot of time and love into this.”
Great. A family heirloom. It didn’t change the fact that she was strangled in it. Mom moved in close to me, as did Grandma.
“Feel it,” Creely said, inviting me to run my fingers over the delicate seams. She coaxed the entire dress into my arms. “It doesn’t bite.”
It was lighter than I expected, and it resonated with a crystal clear energy that wound up my arms and into my chest. Incredible.
“See?” Creely asked, reading the expression on my face. “It was constructed well. It has power. This was made with love and hope from the family of that poor girl who died.”
My mom’s hand fluttered at her throat. “Who died?”
Creely explained while I ran my fingers over the intricately woven fabric. Maybe I could go with this. I opened up my demon slayer senses.
The dress was definitely touched by love. And something else. Tragedy. I could sense the faint burn of it. She had definitely died in this dress. But the love was stronger.
It made me wonder. “This could be how the grave dirt powered up the emerald,” I said to myself, “It was a place where the family’s love and prayers were concentrated.” This girl’s household may not have been rich, but they had been strong and deeply tied to each other. “Maybe I could use some of that power to release her ghost.”
We could certainly use all the help we could get.
“First things first,” my mom said, retreating to the bathroom. “You need to dry your hair.”
Whoops.
