prevent the kiss from lifting the spell.”
“Which means Georgia won’t wake up,” I said, chewing on my lip. “At what point in the wedding does it happen, exactly?”
“You mean, when will it be too late?” Bob asked.
“Yeah, I mean, when they say, ‘I do,’ when they swap rings, or what?”
“Rings and vows,” Bob said, mild scorn in his voice. “Way overrated.”
Murphy glanced up at me in the rearview mirror and said, “It’s the kiss, Harry. It’s the kiss.”
“Buffy’s right!” Bob agreed cheerily.
I met Murphy’s eyes in the mirror for just a second and then said, “Yeah. I guess I should have figured.”
Murphy smiled a little.
“The kiss seals the deal,” Bob prattled. “If Billy kisses Jenny Greenteeth, the girl with the long legs ain’t waking up, and he ain’t long for the world, either.”
“Murph,” I said, tense.
She rolled down the car’s window, slapped a magnetic cop light on the roof, and started up the siren. Then she stomped on the gas and all but gave me whiplash.
UNDER NORMAL CIRCUMSTANCES, the trip to the resort would have taken half an hour. I’m not saying Murphy’s driving was suicidal. Not quite. But after the third near collision, I closed my eyes and fought off the urge to chant, “There’s no place like home.”
Murphy got us there in twenty minutes.
Tires screeched as she swung into the resort’s parking lot. “Drop me there,” I said, pointing. “Park behind the reception tent so folks won’t see Georgia. I’ll go get Billy.”
Clutching my blasting rod, I bailed out of the car, which never actually came to a full stop, and ran into the hotel. The concierge blinked at me from behind her desk.
“Wedding!” I barked at her. “Where?”
She blinked and pointed a finger down the hall. “Um. The ballroom.”
“Right!” I said, and sprinted that way. I could see the open double doors and heard a man’s voice over a loudspeaker saying, “Until death do you part?”
Eve McAlister stood at the doorway in her lavender silk outfit, and when she saw me, her eyes narrowed into sharp little chips of ice. “There, that’s him. That’s the man.”
Two big, beefy guys in matching badly fitted maroon dress coats appeared—hotel security goons. They stepped directly into my path, and the larger one said, “Sir, I’m sorry, but this is a private function. I’ll have to ask you to leave.”
I ground my teeth. “You have got to be kidding me! Private? I’m the best-fucking-man!”
The loudspeaker voice in the ballroom said, “Then by the power vested in me ...”
“I will not allow you to further disrupt this wedding, or tarnish my good name,” Eve said in a triumphant tone. “Gentlemen, please escort him from the premises before he causes a scene.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the bigger goon said. He stepped toward me, glancing down at the blasting rod. “Sir, let’s walk to the doors now.”
Instead, I darted forward, toward the doors, taking the goons by surprise with the abrupt action. “Billy!” I shouted.
The goons recovered in an eyeblink and tackled me. They were professional goons. I went down under them, and it drove the breath out of me.
The loudspeaker voice said, “Man and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”
I lay there on my back under maybe five hundred pounds of security goon, struggling to breathe and staring at nothing but ceiling.
A ceiling lined with a whole bunch of automated fire extinguishers.
I slammed my head into the Boss Goon’s nose and bit Backup Goon on the arm until he screamed and jerked it away, freeing my right arm.
I pointed the blasting rod up, reached for my power, and wheezed, “
Flame billowed up to the ceiling.
A fire alarm howled. The sprinklers flicked on and turned the inside of the hotel into a miniature monsoon.
Chaos erupted. The ballroom was filled with screams. The floor shook a little as hundreds of guests leapt to their feet and started looking for an exit. The security goons, smart enough to realize they suddenly had an enormous problem on their hands, scrambled away from the doorway before they could be trampled.
I got to my feet in time to see a minister fleeing a raised platform, where a figure in Georgia’s wedding dress had hunched over, while Billy, spiffy in his tux, stared at her in pure shock. That much running water grounded out whatever glamour the bride might have been using, and her features melted back into those I’d seen before—she lost an inch or two of height and her proportions changed. Georgia’s rather sharp features flowed into a visage of haunting, unearthly beauty. Georgia’s brown hair became the same green as emeralds and seaweed.
Jenny Greenteeth turned toward Billy, her trademark choppers bared in a viridian snarl, and her hand swept at his throat, inhuman nails gleaming.
Billy may have been shocked, but not so much that he didn’t recognize the threat. His arm intercepted Jenny’s and he drove into her, pushing both hands forward with the power of his arms, shoulders, and legs. Billy had a low center of gravity, and was no skinny weakling. The push sent Jenny back several steps and off the edge of the platform. She fell in a tangle of white fabric and lace.
“Billy!” I shouted again, almost managing to make it loud. My voice was lost in the sounds of panic and the wailing fire alarms, so I gritted my teeth, brought my shield bracelet up to its flashiest, sparkliest, shiniest charge, and thrust into the press of the crowd. To them, it must have looked like someone waving a road flare around, and there was a steady stream of interjections that averaged out to “Eek!” I forged ahead through them.
By the time I was past the crowd, Jenny Greenteeth had risen to her feet, tearing the bridal gown off as if it were made of tissue paper. She stretched one hand into a grasping claw and clenched at the air. Ripples of angry power fluttered between her fingers, and an ugly green sphere of light appeared in her hand.
She leapt nimbly back up to the platform, unencumbered by the dress, and flung the green sphere at Billy. He ducked. It flew over his head, leaving a hole with blackened, crumbling edges in the wall behind him.
Jenny howled and summoned another sphere, but by that time I was within reach. Standing on the floor by the platform gave me a perfect shot at her knees, and I swung my blasting rod with both hands. The blow elicited a shriek of pain from the sidhe woman, and she flung the second sphere at me. I caught it on my shield bracelet and it rebounded upon her, searing a black line across the outside of one thigh.
The sidhe screamed and threw herself back, her weight mostly on one leg, and snarled to me, “Thou wouldst have saved this one, Wizard. But I will yet exact my Lady’s vengeance twofold.”
And with a graceful leap, she flew over our heads, forty feet to the door, and vanished from sight as swiftly and nimbly as a deer.
“Harry!” Billy said, staring in shock at the soaking-wet room. “What the hell is happening here? What the hell was that thing?”
I grabbed his tux. “No time. Come with me.”
He did but asked, “Why?”
“I need you to kiss Georgia.”
“Uh,” he said. “What?”
“I found Georgia. She’s outside. The watery tart knows it. She’s going to kill her. You gotta kiss her,
“Oh,” he said.
We both ran, and suddenly the bottom fell out of my stomach.
Vengeance twofold.
Oh, God.
Jenny Greenteeth would kill Murphy, too.
