by Zoe Arden
Now all three of them were giving me the look, though Trixie's wasn't nearly as severe as her counterparts’. I crumbled anyway.
"Oh, fine," I said. "It's no big deal. I was supposed to hear from Damon the other day, and I never did. That's all." I left out the part about meeting him for lunch.
Eleanor's eyes widened. "Damon? I thought you didn't talk to him anymore."
"I don't. At least, not often."
"Then why were you expecting to hear from him?"
I bit my bottom lip. I couldn't even tell them the truth if I'd wanted to because the truth was I had no idea. When Damon had called and asked to meet me for lunch, all he'd said was he had to talk to me. That it was something important. He'd given no indication of what was so important. In the back of my mind, I'd wondered if it had anything to do with me and Colt setting a date. If it did, then I planned to nip that in the bud right away. Damon and I could be friends, nothing more. He should have known that by now.
"He left a message saying he wanted to catch up," I finally told them. "But then I never heard from him."
Eleanor frowned, but Trixie looked as if that explained everything. "I wouldn't worry about it too much," she said. "He probably just got sidetracked with something and forgot."
"Yeah," I said. "Sidetracked."
Trixie looked around the group and clapped her hands together. "We better go if we're going," she said.
Eleanor nodded but gave me one final look, like she didn't quite trust what I was saying.
"If I were you," said Eleanor, "I wouldn't mention Damon to Colt."
I blinked, surprised. Normally Eleanor was the epitome of truth-telling.
"Why not?" I asked.
She rolled her shoulders around and looked uncomfortable. "Men don't think like we do," she finally said. "You might want to be friends with Damon, but Colt might not see it that way."
I pressed my lips together. "Don't worry. I haven't mentioned it."
She nodded and went out front, gathering her raincoat up in case it started again.
My dad said, "If it rains again tomorrow, the Witch's Council is going to get some angry phone calls from residents."
"Come on," Eleanor said, grabbing an umbrella. "We don't want to be late. Bridal Barista has a strict 'late and lose' policy. If you're late, you lose your appointment."
"Really?" I asked, brightening up. "You know, I think I left my purse in the back room."
Eleanor smiled. "You did. I grabbed it for you." She brought it out from under her coat, which was folded over it, and handed it to me.
"Thanks." I paused. "I just need to use the bathroom."
"Use the bathroom there," Eleanor said.
"I can't wait."
"It's not more than a ten-minute walk."
"But I... I need to make a phone call."
Eleanor walked over to me, grabbed me by the ear like I was a naughty toddler, and pulled me toward the door. "You're not getting out of this," she said.
"Bye," my dad called. "Have fun. I'll close up."
I accepted defeat. I was going to have to try on dozens of frou-frou wedding dresses, and if I wanted to survive the evening, I had better pretend to like it.
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CHAPTER
FIVE
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Bridal Barista greeted me with a glass of champagne and a loud squeal. The champagne was nice, the squeal hurt my ears.
"Eeeh!" Lucy Lockwood's voice rang shrilly through the air. "I can't believe you're getting married! This makes it official."
"I think it was official when Colt gave me the ring," I told her.
"Surprise," Trixie said. "We thought you'd want Lucy here too. A girls’ night isn't much fun without your best friend."
I smiled at my aunts, happy they'd thought to invite her. Lucy would have been upset to learn that she'd missed an evening of trying on wedding gowns.
"Thanks," I said to Trixie and Eleanor as the champagne bubbles tickled my nose. The heaviness in my head began to lighten, and suddenly, the lights inside the store didn't seem nearly so harsh as they had just minutes before.
"Another glass?" an attendant asked, already handing one to me.
I looked down and was surprised to find that I'd drained my first glass. "Why not?" I said, getting into the spirit of things.
Another attendant went over the layout of the store with us. I took a look around and was pleased to see that the store, though overwhelming at first, was neatly organized.
Pure white taffeta dresses were all together in one section, off-white in another. Satin and lace gowns had their own wall, while 1920s style dresses had another. The rainbow dresses were few and far between, though there was a section with pale pink dresses that caught my attention.
"Each dress has a number assigned to it," the woman in charge, Grace Beyers, said, handing us each a card and a pencil that reminded me of one of those scorekeeping cards you got playing mini golf. "When you see something you like, just write down the number. When you're through, the girls will pull the dresses in your size and bring them right to your dressing room. If we don't have one in your size, we'll get the next size closest to it and pin it."
Lucy and I gravitated toward the pale pink dresses I'd seen, while Eleanor and Trixie split up, Eleanor taking the more traditional gowns and Trixie going toward the more unusual. I decided to roll with it. I'd try on whatever they wanted me to. What was the saying? When in Rome...
"Oooh," Lucy said, grabbing a dress from off one of the racks. "Look at this one." My eyes went up and over it, scrunching tightly together. The dress was a strapless mini skirt number that looked like it would be more in place in a Las Vegas casino rather than a wedding.
"Pass," I told her.
She pouted but put the dress back. "Maybe that one wasn't wedding dress material, but it would be killer at the Starlights concert coming up."
"Are you going?" I asked.
She sighed. "No, I waited too long to mention it to Wren and now they're sold out."
"Too bad."
"What about this one?" she asked, pulling another off the rack. This one was made of silk and had a long, narrow skirt. It looked light as air and reminded me of something I'd see at a beach wedding.
"I like it," I told her. "Write down the number."
After a half hour, the attendants began to buzz about collecting our cards and pulling dresses.
"You can keep looking, but we ought to get started." Grace glanced over our cards. "There's a lot of numbers here to pull."
"Do you smell that?" I said, wrinkling my nose.
Grace paused and looked around. "Smell what?"
"I'm not sure." I sniffed the air. "It smells like... the beach."
"Oh, it's my new perfume," Grace said, smiling, flattered. "It's called... Oceanside."
I didn't tell her that beneath the scent of fresh ocean air lay a vague stench of fish. Whatever her new perfume was, she might want to think twice about it next time she put it on.
"How long do you think it will take to pull the dresses?" I asked, somewhat apprehensively. Bridal Barista had a reputation for staying open late to please its customers, and I didn't want to be stuck here until midnight.
"Oh, not too long," Grace said. "Shouldn't be more than an hour or two. Three at the most."
My eyes widened. "Can I get another glass of champagne please?"
They showed me into a dressing room, and the first dress arrived. It was one of Trixie's selections. A giant, poofy gown that made me look like a cross between a peacock and a turkey.
"I love it," Trixie declared when I stepped out of the dressing room to show them. Lucy and my aunts were seated around a mirrored platform that allowed me to view the dress from all angles.
Eleanor and Lucy looked at Trixie as though she were out of her mind.
"You're kidding," Lucy said.
Trixie frowned. "Wha
t? It's pretty, and you'll never see another dress like it."
Lucy turned back to me. "Next," she said, and I gratefully retreated to the dressing room.
The dresses were beginning to pile up. The attendants left them hanging outside the room for me when they couldn't fit anymore inside the dressing room itself. I pulled on one of my own selections and frowned before stepping out. It was one of the pale pink gowns I'd been drawn to, but looking at it now, I realized it looked better on the hanger than it did on me.
"Next," Lucy said, and this time Eleanor and Trixie joined her.
I returned to my dressing room, shutting the door behind me. A hand reached out from between the folds of the gowns and covered my mouth. A man's voice whispered, "Don't scream."
My heart thumped in my chest. "Damon?" I whispered when he lifted his hand. "What are you doing here?"
A thousand questions ran through my head. "How did you get in here? How did no one see you?" I bit my tongue for the moment and looked anxiously around.
Damon said, "I came in through the back. I'm sorry about this, but I had to see you."
"Now?" I snapped. "I'm trying on wedding gowns, for witch's sake."
"I know," he whispered back to me. He paused and looked me up and down. "I like this one. It's simple but nice."
I groaned. "What are you doing here?" I repeated. "What couldn't wait until later? And why did you stand me up for lunch the other day? I was worried about you."
"You were?" he asked, and my cheeks colored.
"Yes."
There was a knock on the door. "Everything okay in there?" Grace asked.
"Yes," I called out. "I... uh... I'm just having a hard time deciding which one to try next."
"Oh, if you let me in, I can offer some advice. I've helped young ladies select thousands, no millions, of wedding gowns."
I thought millions might have been an exaggeration but didn't contradict her. "No, thanks. I'm fine."
I thought I heard her let out a huffy little gasp but a moment later, she walked off without another word.
"What's wrong?" I asked Damon.
"Ava, I'm in trouble."
I took a closer look at his face and realized it was not just anxiety I saw there. He looked as though he hadn't slept in a week. There were deep creases around his eyes, and his nose was a dull pink.
"What happened?" I asked.
"I saw something I shouldn't have," he said, licking his lips, which were far too pale.
"What do you mean? Saw what?"
There was another knock on the door. This time it was Lucy. "Are you coming out, or am I coming in?"
Damon's eyes panicked. "Coming out," I told her. Damon hid among the massive skirts that were filling the space. There were so many it wasn't hard to do. I could swear that one of the dresses actually moved to cover him, wrapping around him like an arm. In fact, the way the fabric was folded it sort of looked like an arm. I blinked, and it was gone again. I quickly opened the door and stepped carefully out, making certain she couldn't see inside the room.
Lucy looked at me. "You just showed us that one."
"I did?" I asked. "Oh, right. I did. I... thought it deserved another look."
Lucy scrunched her brow together. "You like this one?"
"I don't know," I said. "That's why it needs a second look. Come on."
I grabbed her arm and pulled her back toward the chairs were my aunts were waiting.
"It is sort of pretty," Trixie said.
"It looks good with your complexion," Eleanor said.
"Thanks. I'll just try the next one now," I told them and hurried back to the dressing room. I didn't see Damon at first, then he stepped out from behind one of the gowns that Trixie had selected. It was purple and pink and had actual feathers sticking out of it. Damon nearly choked on one of them.
"One of those attendants nearly caught me," he said.
"Finish what you were saying before anyone does catch you back here." I wasn't sure what would happen if the attendants found a man in my dressing room, but flashes of being forever banned from Bridal Barista flashed through my head. I shoved them away, as tempting as they were.
"I started a new job as a security guard at this warehouse a few weeks ago. I was working the night shift a few days ago when... I saw something."
"What did you see?" I asked, my heart hammering.
He shook his head. "I don't know what it was exactly. It looked like..." He shrugged and held his hands out as if he intended to draw the thing in the air for me like some sort of charades game. "Six feet," he muttered. "Maybe seven." He sighed and put his hands back at his side. "It looked like a fish."
"A fish?" I asked. That was the last thing I'd expected him to say.
"That's not really the right word. More like... a cross between a werewolf and a fish. Or a merman and a fish." He paused. "Are mermen real?"
I bit my lip, uncertain how to answer because I wasn't sure of the answer myself. "Probably," I said. Since coming to Heavenly Haven, I'd learned one thing—most things I'd grown up believing were simple fairytales were actually true. If you could imagine it, it probably existed.
"I've never heard of a merman-werewolf though," I told him. "Even in legend."
He shrugged. "That's what I saw."
I tapped my foot on the floor. "And now someone's after you?"
He nodded and opened his mouth. "I think—"
There was a knock on the door, and Grace's voice rang out. "Miss Fortune? Is someone in there with you? Do you need any assistance?"
"No, thanks. I'm fine," I called to her, but this time I did not hear the retreat of her footsteps.
"Why don't you let me in and I can help you?" There was suspicion in her voice that hadn't been there before. She tried the knob and I grabbed it quickly, holding it steady so that she couldn't turn it all the way and get in.
"I'm fine," I repeated.
"Let me in," she said.
"No thanks."
Damon was looking frantic now. The lights overhead flickered. Grace stopped rattling the knob.
"What was that?" I said. The lights flickered again, and this time once out, they stayed out. "Crud," I said, reaching blindly out with my arms. I felt the soft fabric of dresses all around me. It was an oddly claustrophobic feeling.
There was a gush of air and it felt like someone pushed me gently to the side. My face ran smack into a pillow of satin and lace.
"Damon?" I said, brushing the material off my face. "Damon?" There was no answer. "Damon?"
The lights came back on.
"Thank the roses," I muttered.
Damon wasn't in the room. I turned toward the door, which was standing wide open. My jaw dropped, and I hurried out of the room.
"Grace?" I shouted. She was lying motionless on the floor, a red stain filling the center of her shirt.
Damon was kneeling beside her, holding a knife. He had blood on his hands and a frantic look on his face.
"What did you do?" I said. "Damon, what did you do?"
* * *
CHAPTER
SIX
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Damon jumped up, still holding the knife. "It wasn't me," he said. The blood on his hands smeared on his shirt. "Ava, you've got to believe me. I didn't do this."
I went to the body and knelt beside it, touching her neck with two fingers to feel for a pulse. "She's dead," I said, my throat drying up.
One of the attendants came around the corner. "Everyone's asking for you," she said, then stopped when she saw the scene on hand. Her eyes widened.
Damon dropped the knife. "It wasn't me," he repeated, for the attendant's benefit this time. "I didn't kill her."
The attendant let out a shriek that could make a person's eardrums bleed. Damon looked at me, looked at her, then ran from the room. I stood where I was a moment longer then hurried after him.
Eleanor and Trixi
e were looking at me, confused.
"Was that Damon we just saw?" Eleanor asked.
"Which way did he go?" I asked.
Eleanor looked toward the front doors. I saw Damon's dark hair weaving in and out of the white wedding gowns. It was shorter than the last time I'd seen it.
"Damon!" I called. "Stop!"
He turned to look at me but didn't stop running.
The attendant who discovered us ran out after me, her face a horrible ashen color that made her look like death. M-M-Murderer!" she screamed and pointed at Damon.
Several of the other girls gathered around her.
"What's happening?" one of them asked.
"Who's been murdered?" asked another.
"Rachel, are you all right?" asked a third.
Rachel said, "Grace is dead. He killed her." Her long, elegant finger was still pointing at Damon.
A security guard jumped in front of him, blocking his exit just before he'd reached the doors. The guard had a Taser gun. Damon paused, jumped back, and turned to run the other way.
Lucy, Eleanor, and Trixie were on their feet now. They gathered around me, demanding to know what was going on. I ignored their questions for now; there was simply no time to answer them.
The guard ran after Damon, Taser at the ready. "Stop!" he shouted, but Damon had no intention of stopping. He was heading for the back. Not the dressing rooms, but the stock rooms. It was probably the way he'd snuck in.
The guard ran after him. I ran after the guard.
"Don't hurt him," I yelled.
"Shoot him with a real gun!" Rachel yelled.
Damon pushed through a set of doors at the back of the shop and disappeared. The guard was only seconds behind him, and I was only seconds behind the guard.
In the back room, I was surprised to find what looked like thousands of dresses in every size hanging in row after row after row. The owner had clearly used an expansion charm on the place so that their back room was bigger than it appeared from the outside. I had no idea how the guard or anyone else would be able to find Damon in here, which wasn't stopping the guard from trying.
