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My Big Fat Supernatural Wedding

Page 31

by L. A. Banks


  "Go on," Kate said coldly.

  "However, when Emma wielded her Puppetmaster talent in an effort to murder Kate, the maid showed remarkable strength and will for one of her station. Emma lost control of her own Talent. At the instant of Kate's death, a bizarre transference occurred."

  "Their souls," Olivia said. "Their spirits. . . changed places."

  "Not entirely," Kate said, her voice heavy with memory. "My body died, but I fought for survival. And I did survive ... in Emma's body."

  "I did not know at the time," Serge said, gazing at the gun that had so easily turned against him. "Kate played her part so well that I never suspected that Emma existed only as a shadow in her own body. She asked for my help in disposing of Kate's body, and we threw it in the Loire. But when Emma changed her mind about de­fecting, I knew something was wrong." He sucked in a deep breath. "I followed her to Albion, knowing she might have been playing the double agent all along. My Albian sources revealed that she resigned from the War Office immediately upon her arrival. But as long as she remained at large, her intentions unknown, she was a threat to any Burgundian agent in Albion."

  "And that is why you abducted her," Kit said. "But why did you wait so long after she returned to Albion?"

  "Because I did not realize how complicated matters had become until a former lover of Kate's, one Eamonn Lyons, visited Emma at her father's estate to question her about Kate's death. My informant there overheard the interview—an informant who is now safely back in Burgundy." He smiled bitterly. "Lyons was himself an ex-agent, and a man of considerable gifts. He recognized some unique mannerism that convinced him of 'Lady Emma's' true identity, and he accused her of a cruel deception."

  "Lyons is the man who objected at the wedding!" Olivia said.

  "Oui. He believed that Lord Edward was about to marry an im­poster. This knowledge inspired us to act when the opportunity pre­sented itself, as it did when Lady Emma fled London. And so I learned the singular facts of the case."

  "Were you the one who 'assisted' Lyons in falling down the church steps?" Kit asked.

  "You may lay that death at the feet of Sir Valentine. He did not wish any outside interference until we had properly interrogated Lady Emma."

  "Oh god," Edward groaned. "I cannot believe any of this."

  "It is true," Kate said. She met his gaze bravely. "I had intended to explain as soon as I returned to Albion . . . but when I met Emma's parents, I couldn't bear to tell them the truth about their daughter. And then ... I met you. And I grew to love you so dearly that I could not... I couldn't bear—" She bowed her head. "I know it's over between us. I can only hope that one day, you'll—"

  She stiffened, and her eyes glazed with shock. "Forgive her," she said in that other voice, and laughed. "No need for such extreme measures, Eddie. Kate didn't quite kill me when she took my body, but I was too weak to fight for it. . . until Serge's interrogation set me free. Now I'll keep what's mine."

  Once again the gun wavered in Serge's trembling hand.

  "Fight her, Kate!" Olivia commanded. "If you were strong enough to endure once before, you can do so again."

  "Her previous victory was a mere stroke of luck," Emma snarled, but Olivia saw that her forehead was beaded with perspiration and her jaw worked with effort.

  Olivia moved closer. "Kate," she said, "whatever guilt you may feel, whatever horror at taking Emma's body, remember it was not you who attempted murder—"

  "Silence!" Emma shouted.

  "—and would just as willingly murder everyone in this room," Olivia finished.

  The gun in Beaumarchais's hand pointed toward Olivia. "You bitch," Emma hissed. "That is exactly what I shall do."

  "Not this time. Kate!"

  "I—" Kate-Emma made a strangled sound. "I cannot—"

  "She cares too much," Emma said. "That is why she, and all of you, will die."

  With growing despair, Olivia realized that Emma was winning the battle. Her will was too strong, too ruthless. And no one but Kate could defeat her.

  "Good-bye," Kate whispered. "Forgive . . ."

  "No" Edward said, standing to face her. "Don't you dare leave me."

  Her eyes opened wide, reflecting the ferocity of the struggle for survival. "Edward ... I love . . ."

  "I love you more than life. I will not let you go, do you hear? Come back to me!"

  Tears spilled down Emma's cheeks. She half-rose, shaking vio­lently. "You . . . love me . . ."

  "With all my heart."

  Emma's body jerked like an Animator's mannequin and collapsed to the carpet. Kit sprang to take the gun from Serge's limp fingers. Edward rushed to Kate's side.

  "Kate! Kate, do you hear me?"

  The limp form stirred. "Edward?"

  He stroked her cheek with his fingers. "My love ... is it you?"

  "Emma is gone," she whispered. "I am Kate. Kate O'Brennan."

  "I didn't know why I fell in love when . . . when you returned from the Continent," Edward said, clasping Kate's hands in his, "but it was real. As real as you are now. I love you, Kate ... if you will still have me."

  Kate wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes. "If you can forgive such a terrible deception. . . ."

  He took her in his arms. "It is you I loved—your soul, your brave and generous spirit—never Emma."

  "But your family . . . I'm a commoner, of Eirish blood—"

  "And that," Olivia said to Kit as she abandoned her eavesdrop­ping, "explains in part why she saw the bean-sidhe."

  "But only in part," Kit said. "Something badly frightened Eamon Lyons in St. Bertram's. He, too, must have seen the banshee. Re­member, it's supposed that only the Eirish of noble blood can detect them."

  "Then perhaps Kate has even more secrets than we have guessed." Olivia sighed. "The girl will have a great deal to sort out, especially since she has resolved to tell the full story to the War Office and Emma's family. Sir Valentine and his allies must be apprehended. And Kate doubtless bears some guilt for the death of her Eirish

  friend in St. Bertram's."

  "But it wasn't she or the bean-sidhe that caused his death." "No, but if she'd told him the truth, he might not have died at all." "Perhaps. Or perhaps it was simply his time." He frowned. "And

  what of the bean-sidhe she saw here at the cottage? Whose death did

  that portend?"

  "Don't you see, Kit?" Olivia asked. "It was Emma's demise the

  bean-sidhe foretold ... the end of the murderess who lingered on to

  corrupt Kate's new life. That was justice indeed."

  ". . . if any man can show any just cause why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter for ever hold his peace."

  An expectant, almost painful hush descended over the nave of St. Bertram's-in-the-Fens. Kate and Edward, kneeling at the altar, did not move a muscle. No one spoke.

  The bishop released a gusty breath and rushed through the re­mainder of the ceremony at record speed.

  "With this ring I thee worship," Edward intoned, his face radiant with happiness. "With my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow."

  The congregation bowed its collective head in prayer. As the final hymn reached its conclusion, Olivia took Kit's hand.

  "I think very well of Edward for putting love above every other consideration," she said. "In the end, he brought his family to see things his way. And now it is done, all right and proper."

  "I doubt very much," Kit said wryly, "that those two are contem­plating propriety at the moment."

  "Why, Kit!" Olivia smiled, noting the twinkle in his eye. "I never knew one could have such unseemly thoughts."

  "Oh, I have them often enough." He cleared his throat. "The world would be a much happier place if love could overcome every obstacle in its path."

  "But it can, my dear. Who should know that better than the world's most formidable canine?" "Woof," he said with a grin. "Woof," she said, taking his hand.

&nbs
p; * * *

  SUSAN KRINARD is the author of fourteen fantasy romance novels, several novellas, and two epic fantasy novels. Susan graduated from the California College of Arts and Crafts with the intention of be­coming a science fiction cover artist, but fate led her in another direc­tion when her first manuscript was acquired by a major publisher. Born and raised in the California Bay Area, Susan now makes her home in the "Land of Enchantment," New Mexico, with her hus­band, three mixed-breed dogs, and a cat named Jefferson.

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