by Sarah Kuhn
“I actually thought of something else.” I grabbed my bag from the brocade-covered dressing room stool and found the small box I’d picked up from the florist earlier that day. I handed it to her and she popped it open, her eyes widening in delight.
“Little red flowers!” she exclaimed. “Like the ones on the dress!”
“Yes,” I said, plucking the flowers from the box. “I thought we could pin them in your hair?”
“Aw, check it out,” she said. “We both surprised each other with something awesome!”
“Uh, yes,” I said, grabbing a handful of bobby pins from my bag. I started to artfully pin the flowers in her hair, so they looked like they were gracefully cascading through her tangle of curls. I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t mention that the bride wasn’t really supposed to surprise the maid of honor—especially with such a hideous piece of non-couture.
“—and we are just ever so gosh-dang delighted that Evie Tanaka has chosen this shop as the place to reveal her glorious bridal look.” Maisy’s voice wafted in from the other room. “Especially given her checkered history with the place.”
The crowd tittered and I peeked through the doorway just in time to see Maisy gesturing expansively at the portal. Dave stood in front of her, filming with a phone-camera.
“My god, just get to it,” I muttered, pinning the last flower in Evie’s hair. “It doesn’t have to be a Broadway-level production.”
Evie giggled. “Really? Aveda Jupiter is against someone being all theatrical?” She turned to me and pulled a mock surprised expression, bugging her eyes out and dropping her jaw. I couldn’t help but giggle, too.
“All right, all right,” I said. “So ‘Broadway-level production’ is kind of my jam. But she’s milking it and we’ve got an invisible puppy to catch.”
Evie grinned at me and reached over to squeeze my hand. “We got this,” she said. “The dynamic duo is on top of this shit.”
I smiled back and felt that warmth surge between us—that indescribable bond we’d lost for so many years and rebuilt stronger than ever.
Or so I’d thought.
“Evie,” I said impulsively. “You can tell me what you want when it comes to wedding stuff. Even if you think it runs counter to what I’m envisioning. It’s your day, and I just want to help make it everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”
Her smile faltered. “Scott told you about The Gutter.”
“Yes. And I think we can have a perfectly lovely engagement party there.” Well, maybe not exactly “lovely.” But I could make it work. I knew I could. “And I’m sorry about what happened with Bea the other day,” I continued. “I was just trying to—”
“Help. I know.” Maybe it was my imagination, but her smile seemed to fade, and she pulled at the bodice of her dress again. “I know that’s what you’re always trying to do.”
“But it’s what you want for your party that’s important,” I said. Even though you might not know exactly what you want until I show it to you.
“I want to keep the engagement party easy, casual,” she said. “Karaoke and garbage food and fun with friends.”
“All right,” I said, my brain already cycling through all the ways I could execute that and still keep things as tasteful and fabulous as she deserved. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll take care of it.”
Her smile widened again and she squeezed my hand.
And then, finally, we heard Maisy say the magic words we’d been waiting for: “And now, Pussy Queen is proud to present Aveda Jupiter in her fabulous, never-before-seen maid-of-honor dress!”
I swept out of the dressing room and camera flashes went off. Shruti was taking the official photos, but thanks to Maisy, we had dozens of phone-cameras to contend with as well. I gave it my all, waving to the crowd, megawatt smile in place. The dress might be awful, but I knew how to work it.
The buzz from the crowd grew loud again.
“. . . interesting choice . . .”
“. . . is it a theme wedding . . .”
“. . . is the theme ‘prom nightmare’ . . . ?”
I groaned inwardly, but didn’t let it show. No, I kept that smile plastered on as I ascended the platform Maisy had erected especially for the shoot, right next to the portal. It was like a mini fashion runway with just enough room for Evie and I to stand and wave. Maisy stood in front of the platform and gestured expansively as I struck my first pose. I smiled at the crowd—pushing and shoving at each other, trying to see through the doorway. Lucy stood firm, sending them a warning look. I deployed one of my patented Aveda Jupiter Tricks of Crafting a Perfect Superheroine Image to make them feel more at home, attempting to make direct eye contact with each and every person there. It made my fans feel like they had a special connection with me. In this case, it also gave me an opportunity to survey the scene, to see if anything was amiss.
My gaze shifted to the right and landed on Scott, who was standing near the back of the store. He gave me an incredulous look, gestured up and down his body, and mouthed, “WHAT?”
So he also thought this dress was hideous.
I gave him a subtle shrug, like, “I don’t even know.”
He pulled another goofy face and I couldn’t help it: I giggled.
Then I quickly schooled my expression back to fabulous, imperious form. Aveda Jupiter might have a famed megawatt smile, but when faced with legions of adoring fans, she certainly did not giggle. That was reserved for private moments with Evie.
“Okay!” Maisy cried. “Now, are we ready for the main event?”
The crowd screamed in the affirmative.
“I said,” Maisy chirped, milking it once again, “are we ready?”
The crowd turned up their scream so loud, the whole building seemed to shake. I kept my smile in place and inched to the side, so Evie would be positioned in the center, right where I could keep an eye on her when the puppy demon decided to attack.
My scratchy lace bodice chafed against my skin. I felt sweat bead underneath the high neckline and trickle down my back, into impossible to reach places. I tightened my smile.
I’d dealt with overwhelming crowds of adoring fans millions of times.
I’d kicked a variety of demon asses millions of times.
I’d maintained my tough, fabulous, charismatic persona while wearing extremely binding clothing kazillions of times.
I could certainly handle one hideous bridesmaid dress.
But my god, that itch was like nothing I’d ever felt. When we were through vanquishing evil, I was going to have to talk Evie into letting me wear anything but this.
“Here she is!” bellowed Maisy. “Our beautiful bride of San Francisco: Evie Tanaka!”
Evie sashayed out, waving to the cameras and the crowd. The gown hugged her body perfectly, the little red flowers rippling as she walked. And the flowers in her hair did indeed look like they’d just been scattered there, like she was an adorable wood sprite who’d run through the garden.
Applause crashed through the crowd, and I found myself joining in. Evie climbed up on the platform and struck a pose and the camera-phones went wild, desperate to capture her every bridal move.
“Speech!” someone screamed from outside. “Speechspeechspeech!!”
I homed in on where the words were coming from. It was Giant Dude, who had managed to push his way to the front and was now standing in the center of the doorway, being elbowed from all sides by other fans who didn’t appreciate his aggressive tactics.
Hmm. A speech might be good, actually. Now that we were up on the platform, presenting ourselves, baiting the puppy demon with all our might, we needed to prolong the moment. Give it time to come out.
Evie turned to me with her deer-in-headlights look. We hadn’t discussed anything past posing for the cameras—since, after all, this was only supposed to be a private photo shoot.
/>
“Um, yes,” I said, trying to sound encouraging. The neckline of the dress felt like it tightened further, as if attempting to stop me from speaking. And the itch . . . fuck. I was going to rip this thing off of my body at the earliest possible moment. “I am so proud to be standing up here as Evie’s maid of honor—”
“Not you!” Giant Dude bellowed. “We want to hear from the bride!”
“—and I think this is a wonderful opportunity for her to tell you what your support means to her,” I continued through gritted teeth. Sigh. Giant Dude used to hang on my every word. I guess times really had changed. “I can only imagine that having the whole city so invested in every single tiny detail of your special day feels very . . . well, special.”
I cocked an eyebrow at Evie, urging her to pick up the thread.
“That’s right,” Evie said, but her voice sounded a bit robotic. She was reorienting herself, getting into Public Evie mode. Putting on her crowd-pleaser face. Silence hung in the air a little too long, so I gamely clapped my hands together.
“Yay!” I said, attempting to get the crowd to cheer her on. Which they did without too much encouragement.
“Yes,” Evie said. Her voice still had that odd, robotic quality, but at least she was continuing to speak. “It is special. San Francisco is my duty, my love, my life—”
I frowned. That was a fine sentiment for the moment—but it was also one of my most famous catchphrases.
“I love San Francisco so much,” she continued. “That I—ow.” She gasped, her hand going to her ribcage. “Oh . . . oh, dear. I think I’m having some indigestion, I—ow.” She clapped her other hand to the other side of her ribcage.
Oh, shit. It was happening. It was totally happening. The puppy demon was doing something to her. But why was it affecting her in this way? It was supposed to make her angry, irrational. Not punch her insides.
“Owwwwwwwww!” Evie wailed, falling to her knees.
Well, whatever. Something was attacking my best friend and I had to act, even if it was a different evil than what we expected. Even if it was just some bad tuna she’d eaten for lunch.
I got my game face on and dashed to Evie’s side, grabbing her shoulders.
The scanner chose that moment to start shrieking: BEEP BEEP BEEP!
“Yes, we know!” I yelled over my shoulder. “Some supernatural bullshit is definitely present! Scott, can you—”
But he was already on it, moving toward us, brow furrowed with concentration as he put his spell in motion. As planned, Maisy, Shruti, and Dave had booked it for the relative safety of the dressing rooms and were hiding out until we conquered this thing. I was dimly aware of the crowd still assembled right outside, now erupting into a confused murmur.
“Lucy!” I yelled.
“Okay, loves!” she shouted to the crowd. “I think we need to shut the door now!”
I heard the door slam, and the buzz of the crowd was suddenly muffled. Then Lucy, Nate, and Bea were all at my side, clustered around Evie. Nate held the trap, ready to open it on cue. Evie slumped to the side, her face contorted in pain.
“Evie!” I cried, my hands tightening around her shoulders, not sure what else to do. I’d had high hopes for figuring out how to kick this dumb incorporeal puppy, but now that I was staring it in the face, all I could do was scream ineffectually and wait for Scott’s spell to take root. I scanned the air around us wildly, as if the puppy would suddenly appear because I’d willed it to. “Get away from her!” I cried, frustration spiraling through me. God, there was just . . . there was nothing I could do. I felt powerless. I felt Annie Chang rising up inside me, ready to crumple and burst into tears.
“We have to wait,” Nate said, his voice tight with tension. “Until Scott finds it and guides it into the trap, we can’t really—”
“So we just have to sit here and watch this?” Bea protested. “It’s so . . . so . . .”
We were all helpless. It was the worst feeling in the world.
Evie’s eyes started to roll back into her head and desperation clawed at my chest. This was different than before, different than the puppy just making her act, as Bea would say, “extra aggro.” This time, it seemed like it was attacking her.
I hadn’t considered how dangerous this actually was, hadn’t thought about the fact that we were gambling with Evie’s life by putting her out as bait. No, as usual, I’d simply thought I could handle anything and that would be enough.
What if it wasn’t?
“You can’t have her!” I shrieked, addressing the air above us. “You can’t—”
Suddenly, Evie’s head popped up, her eyes focusing on me with unnerving intensity.
“It’s new,” she intoned. “It’s all new.”
The voice coming out of her body was deep and watery, like her usual voice had been slowed way, way down.
“It can’t beeeeee newwwwwwwww,” she continued, her voice slowing even further.
What she was saying didn’t make any sense, but it pinged something in my brain, something familiar. What was it?
“Can’t be new!” she repeated insistently and then she started shaking her head back and forth furiously, as if trying to get free of something.
“Evie!” I cried. Desperate, ineffective. Impotent. I moved my hands to her waist, trying to anchor her to the ground. “Evie—oh, shit!”
My palms felt like they had been submerged in fire ants—prickling and burning up. I let go of her and jumped backward, shaking my palms, trying to get rid of the searing pain. She stood up and stared out into the shop, her eyes vacant.
“Scott!” I yelled. I whipped around to look at him, to see where he was at with the spell. He had stopped in the middle of the store and was frowning as his eyes scanned the air.
“I . . . something’s not right . . .” he said. “Just give me a few more minutes . . .”
“We don’t have a few more minutes,” I snapped. “Why won’t that damn thing show itself?”
A howl pierced the air: wild, savage, barely human. It sounded like an animal caught in a trap. I turned back to Evie, who was doubled over in pain again, screaming so loud, I thought she might shatter every bit of glass in the store.
What was this thing doing to her?
“Tooooo newwwwww,” she wailed.
“I can’t take this,” Nate growled. “I can’t just watch—”
“What else can we do?” The last word came out strangled, almost like a sob. I was saying it just as much to myself as I was to him. Desperation rose in my chest again, and I tried to shove it down. I felt so powerless, so helpless, so . . .
The neckline of my dress pricked at me again, constricting against my skin, and the itch flared back into being, that fucking itch. Haze coated my vision, and I just couldn’t take it any longer. I reached up and yanked at the neck and heard that satisfying rippppp as the cheap lace and satin gave way in my hand. The dress fell away and I was standing there in nothing but my bra and underwear, and then I could breathe again and I wasn’t itchy and I felt my vision clearing—
“AHHHHHHHHHHH!” Evie shrieked, throwing her hands in the air. She collapsed to the ground, shaking, clawing at her torso, as if she was trying to do what I had just done, as if—
Wait.
That was it. It was—
“The dress!” Scott called out. “It’s not in the air, it’s in the dress! I can feel it, but I can’t seem to get a handle on it . . . I . . . fuck. It’s like it’s . . . trapped in there.”
What the hell? The fucking puppy demon had somehow gotten into the dress and was trying to fucking kill her. I reached out wildly with my mental feathers, trying to burrow into the dress, inside the fabric, trying to grab hold of the puppy. But it was no use. I couldn’t see it. So I couldn’t grab hold of it.
Fuck it. I was going to have to try a different tactic. “Ope
n the trap,” I hissed at Nate.
“What?” He stared at me. “But what are you . . . we don’t know what effect it will have on her if you try to . . .”
“Maybe not,” I said. “But like you said: we can’t just fucking watch it take her.”
He was frozen in place, gazing at me with a look full of panic and pain and terror.
“Please,” I said. I touched his arm, hoping it would shock him out of whatever fugue state he was going into. “I love her too. I need her too.”
He nodded, his features resolving into a look of grim determination, and he popped open the trap.
Evie screamed. I focused on her and that damn dress. I reached out with my mental feathers and clamped on hard to the dress, harder than I’d ever clamped on to anything before. Then I pulled, trying to get it off of her. She screamed louder and clapped her hands to her waist. Now it looked like she was trying to hold the dress to her. And I could feel the dress resisting me, pushing back at my mind.
So we were going to have to do this the hard way.
Keeping a firm telekinetic hold on the dress, I charged forward and planted one hand on Evie’s hip, using my other hand to try to get at the zipper. She screamed again. The dress pushed back against my mental feathers and Evie batted at my hands, trying to get me away from her. Despite the haphazard way she was batting me, she managed to block me from the zipper, so I gave up on that strategy and focused on getting a firm grip on the skirt.
“Yes, I know,” I said through gritted teeth. “I thought this was the perfect frock, too. But it’s really . . . not . . . fitting . . . right.” And with that I tightened both my mental and physical grips and pulled with all my might.
Rippppppppppp!
I tore the dress from her body and suddenly it was burning my palms, giving them that fire-ant feeling again. I ran to the trap and stuffed the dress inside. Nate slammed the trap shut. And Evie passed out on the spot.
Nate rushed to her side, cradling her in his arms. “She’s breathing,” he gasped, his voice hoarse. His face sagged with relief, but he was shaking.
