Reluctantly, he followed me into the hall. I glanced both ways, not wanting to be overheard. As furious as I was, I didn’t intend to humiliate him in front of his staff members or any of the guests. With more force than I intended, I pressed the ladle into his chest and he snatched it from me. “You need to get it together!” I hissed. “Today is too important for both of us. You’re angry. I get it. I am too, but we’ve both worked too hard to let this all come crashing down on our heads.”
I’d swallowed every last annoyance and complaint for six months. I’d more than earned my commission, and I wasn’t going to risk it for anything.
Francois’s eyes went dark. “You said you’d handle this, Ana! You told me you’d talk to that ingrate and smooth things over.”
“I know.” Tension pulsed at my temples. I needed to get upstairs to my emergency kit and take a headache capsule. “I’m sorry, Francois. I really am. But please, can we just move on? The bride and groom might not be happy, but let your food speak for itself. They can badmouth it all they want, but the guests are going to love what you’ve made. Besides, think about it this way, we can’t be the only ones who find them unreasonable. I’d be willing to bet anyone they complain to is going to think they’re being impossible and not buy into their bad review. Most of their parents’ powerful friends are going to be out there. So, serve up your best, just like you always do, and let the chips fall where they may.”
“That’s it?” Francois scoffed. “That’s your big inspirational speech? Let the chips fall where they may?”
I sighed and threw my hands in the air. “It’s either that or hey, you, get back in there and cook!”
That drew a smile. “I’m not sure I like this bossy side of you, Ana. Is that boyfriend of yours rubbing off on you?”
I grabbed him by the shoulders, spun him around, and steered him back into the kitchen. “Just think … five, maybe six hours from now, we’ll both be walking out of here with a big check in our pockets. Think dollar signs, Francois.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he muttered, stomping back to the center of the gourmet kitchen.
I lingered in the doorway for a few moments, watching him flit from station to station like a honey bee, dipping a spoon here and there, sampling everything. He still clung to his ladle like a conductor’s wand, but the brusque tone of his voice smoothed over as he regained control of his emotions.
Breathing a sigh of semi-relief, I turned away and went upstairs to check on the bride. Evan, his father, and the groomsmen were down in the basement of the huge chapel, playing poker. There was an hour to go before the ceremony. The bride and groom would exchange their vows inside, and then the guests would be ushered out to the expansive gardens for the reception.
Normally, I would advise against an outdoor wedding in early spring, but Evan and Charlene came from the kind of money that allowed us to hire a team of specialists who’d come in the night before to cast charms around the entire event space. No matter what Mother Nature decided to do, their guests would enjoy an outdoor reception with perfect seventy-two-degree weather and not a rain drop in sight, sealed inside a magically enhanced bubble.
“How are we doing?” I asked, stepping into the plush bridal suite. Charlene stood before a three-way mirror, her slim body wrapped in an ivory gown. She wore a flowing cape in place of a veil, which was held on her shoulders by a string of diamonds. The fabric flowed out to create a twelve-foot train. Her hair was pinned back in a mass of curls with diamond-encrusted hair pins shaped like flowers.
“You look stunning,” I told her, approaching slowly.
“Doesn’t she?” Charlene’s mother said, handing her daughter a small jewelry box. “Your something blue.”
Charlene opened the box and found a pair of sparkling sapphire studs. I recoiled slightly, having too recently had a series of terrible events thanks to a sapphire.
As I stepped back, a tray caught my eye and I realized the hors d’oeuvres Francois’s team sent up for the wedding party to snack on had gone untouched. Surely the food wasn’t inedible? I sighed and picked up the tray. “I’ll take this back to the kitchen, if you’re done with it?”
No one answered me, so I turned away. “I’ll be back in ten minutes to take you downstairs.”
Charlene nodded and then stopped to admire the shine of her new earrings in her reflection. “They’re a little small, aren’t they?” she asked her mother.
Tamping down the urge to roll my eyes, I hurried from the room.
Almost there. Just a few more hours.
I distracted myself with a little mental shopping, dreaming up the shoes I’d buy myself with part of the commission check.
The wedding started right on schedule, and I watched from the back of the chapel as the ceremony began. The trio of flower girls momentarily stole the show, giggling as they threw rose petals at the guests they passed on their way to the altar. The small army of bridesmaids and groomsmen went next. When they were all in place, the music changed, and the wedding march piped from the antique organ at the pulpit. I scurried out of the way as the crowd stood expectantly, all heads turned to the double doors at the back of the chapel, waiting for the bride to emerge. I remained pressed against the wall, hidden behind a waterfall of roses and lilacs as two ushers opened the doors.
A hushed flurry of excited whispers rippled through the audience as Charlene started down the aisle. The music swelled and I peeked at the other end of the aisle to the awaiting groom. I found grooms usually fell into one of two camps when seeing their bride for the first time. There was the emotional, crying-too-hard-to-speak groom, and then there was the standing-in-silent-awe groom. Evan Stimpton was neither of these. His lips formed a tense line and his hooded eyes were dark and moody. Was he even looking at Charlene?
The audience appeared to be a mixed bag, I noted, scanning the crowd. Some wore genuine smiles and clung to the hand of their own partner while others wore polite, almost pinched, smiles. I decided those were most likely Evan’s parents’ friends, only in attendance due to social pressure. Evan was paying for the wedding out of his own pocket—a fact he wanted to make sure everyone knew—but his parents were in attendance, sitting in the front row a few feet from the altar. Wait. Was the mother of the groom wearing black? To her son’s wedding? I leaned in a little closer and breathed a sigh of relief. The two piece skirt suit was navy.
Ugh. At least she was smiling.
During the planning process, Charlene struck me as something of a wild card. I never knew quite what she was thinking until it was too late and she was shooting her fiancé one of her sourpuss expressions that was guaranteed to land me—or whomever else was involved—a telling-off by the groom-to-be.
Charlene and her father reached the altar. Her father kissed her on the cheek and then turned to face the waiting wedding party. Evan took a step forward, but his polished loafer landed wrong and he buckled. The crowd drew in a collective gasp as the groom swayed, wobbled, and then went crashing down to the floor, landing right at his bride’s feet.
He twitched once, twice, and then stilled.
Chapter Three
Everything happened at once. When it became clear Evan wasn’t stirring, Charlene screamed. Guests gasped in collective horror. Charlene’s father dragged her back while Evan’s mother swooped to her son’s side and his father spoke frantically into his phone. My legs were paralyzed for a moment, cold dread filling my entire body like wet cement.
“What just happened?”
I turned to see that Kait, my so-called assistant, had materialized at my side.
“Why aren’t you outside?” I snapped.
Kait Gerrick was more foe than friend, and while we’d been stuck together as a duo for this wedding, I retained the upper hand and had sent her out to direct cars in the parking lot to keep her out of my way.
She scowled at me. “These shoes cost four hundred dollars. If you seriously thought I was going to be out scuffing them up on cement, you’re out of your
mind.”
“So what have you been doing this entire time?” I waved a hand before she could answer. There were far more pressing matters. “Never mind.”
I stalked away and refocused on the chaos breaking out at the front of the chapel. My dress didn’t have pockets so I’d stashed my phone along with my purse under one of the pews. I stopped to collect it before hustling up the central aisle.
Evan still wasn’t moving, his mouth gaping open like a freshly caught trout. “What happened?” I asked, stopping beside Ginger, one of Charlene’s bridesmaids, one of the few who had treated me as a person instead of just the help.
“I—I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “He just … went down. He hasn’t moved. I don’t think he’s breathing.”
Stars and brimstone. Several people were speaking into phones. The SPA and a team of emergency healers were likely already on their way.
Turning to the panicked crowd, I held up my arms. “Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen. Please follow me out into the reception gardens. Healers are on the way and we need to give them space to work.”
No one moved.
“Now, please!” I added, clapping my hands and throwing a little more weight into my voice. I caught the eye of a shock-shelled usher and gestured at him. He elbowed the usher beside him and they sprang into action, rounding up pockets of guests and shepherding them to the doors that opened to the gardens. I recruited the ushers at the back of the chapel and within a few minutes, most of the guests were outside.
Circling back to Kait, I rattled off more orders. “Go to the kitchens and tell Francois to send out the cater waiters. Then, find the bartenders and tell them to start slinging drinks. These people need a distraction.”
To my surprise, she didn’t argue. With a strange smile, she marched off in the direction of the kitchen, and I turned my attention back to the madness swirling around me. Moments later, the chapel doors opened and a team of people in SPA gear poured inside. The man at the head of the column caught my eye and a pressure valve inside my stomach released.
“Caleb!”
Agent Caleb McCord was one of the Supernatural Protection Agency’s best agents and he also happened to be my boyfriend of nearly a year.
“Are you all right?” he asked, stopping before me. His azure eyes searched my face.
“I’m fine,” I replied, taking his hand briefly. He was protective by nature, but those instincts had kicked into overdrive after a scary encounter had left me the proverbial fly in a maniacal wizard’s web. Six months had passed since the wizard had been thwarted, but Caleb’s defenses remained on red alert when it came to me.
Pointing at the front, I gave him a meaningful glance. He nodded and took off, directing his team. A couple of healers were already at Evan’s side, but their expressions were grim. As Caleb approached, the female healer looked up and gave a slight shake of her head.
Evan’s mother fainted. Charlene threw herself into the arms of a groomsman, sobbing against his shoulder. The bridesmaids were all crying.
Things moved quickly. Evan was covered with a white sheet while SPA agents worked to peel away the grieving family members.
Caleb spoke with his agents and then circled back to me. “He’s dead, Ana.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut, even though I’d already known them to be true. Slowly, I nodded, but my gaze snagged on Evan’s body. Caleb placed his fingers on my elbow and gently steered me back the way he’d come, cutting along the front row of chairs toward a side exit that led deeper into the chapel.
“What happened?” he asked once we were alone.
“I—I don’t know. The ceremony had barely even started. Charlene, the bride, was just about to join Evan, the groom, at the altar. He reached for her hands and then he just … collapsed. It all happened so fast.”
“Were there any signs that something was wrong? Before the ceremony, I mean. Was he complaining of a headache or chest pains?”
I considered it, rewinding the day, then shook my head. “No to me, at least.”
Weddings were always a blur of activity. I often joked that I needed some kind of temporary cloning spell for event days. It would be a neat way to handle the tug-of-war feeling I often experienced. Naturally, the bigger the wedding, the more chaotic, and the Stimpton/Fitzpatrick wedding was massive. Over three hundred guests, an eighteen-person wedding party, and a small battalion of ushers and attendants.
“He was in the basement, playing poker—or maybe it was blackjack—with the groomsmen. I gave them the five-minute curtain call and told them to get their jackets on. There was some grumbling about abandoning the game midway, but they did as I asked, and I left to check in with the minister.”
“How was Evan?” Caleb asked.
I shook my head, coming up empty as I searched my memories for some clue or misgiving. “He was fine,” I said. “A little … low energy, but fine.”
“Low energy?” Caleb repeated, lifting a brow.
“He just—” I paused and worried at my lower lip for a moment. “He didn’t seem excited about the wedding, that’s all.”
“Nerves?” Caleb suggested.
I tilted my head. “Maybe … I don’t know how to describe it, really. This whole process has been such a nightmare, between his overbearing demeanor and impatient demands, it’s been all I can do to hang on and wait for the end. I guess I expected that passion to translate into some kind of emotion when the big day finally arrived, but from the way he was acting, he would have rather stayed in the basement playing card games and drinking all day instead of coming up here to get married.”
Caleb didn’t say anything, but I could see the gears of his mind crank into action as he listened.
“He looked bored,” I added, pointing my finger with a decisive air as I landed on the right wording. “And that’s not something I usually see. I’ve seen grooms cry, laugh, or even go stoic, but bored? That’s a new one.”
“What about the bride?” Caleb asked.
“The same as ever,” I deadpanned, thinking of the ungrateful way she’d complained about the size of the stones in the pricey earrings her mother had gifted her.
“How many guests? Judging by the cars outside this was a pretty large affair.”
“Three-hundred forty-eight RSVPs. I haven’t done a final headcount, but I’d guess we’re close to that.”
Caleb gave a low whistle.
“It’s my second largest wedding ever,” I said, not sure why it mattered.
Though, it would forever take the number one spot in the contest for career nightmare. At least, I hoped nothing would ever knock it off its terrible pedestal.
“It could have been something medical. The healers will do an autopsy to reveal the cause of death. I’m having my team look around, but until we determine what killed him, there isn’t much we can do. We won’t be long. I’d advise sending everyone home.” Caleb was looking past me, back into the chapel where his team of agents spoke with the family.
When he dragged his eyes back to mine, I noticed the furrow between them. “I’m sure I’ll have more questions later, but for now, as long as you’re all right, I should get the team into action.”
“Okay.” I nodded and he dropped a quick kiss to my forehead.
“I’ll call you later to let you know about dinner.”
I’d forgotten all about the celebration dinner I’d booked to follow the reception. The idea seemed ghoulish now. Almost like I’d be celebrating Evan’s death, instead of the completion of a tiresome job.
“I think I’ll call it off,” I said. “It doesn’t feel—”
Before I could finish my thought, the doors of the chapel burst open, slamming into the stone walls on either side. Caleb jumped in front of me, startled into action by the loud blast. A haughty woman in a red dress with matching spiked pumps came streaking up the aisle. She didn’t have giant red wings to match her fiery ensemble, but she flew, her feet not touching the floor as she barreled
toward me. If her eyes could shoot laser beams, I’d have already been reduced to a pile of ashes. “Anastasia!”
Terror swirled together with wonder as I side-stepped into the carpet-lined aisle and faced my boss. “Hyacinth, what are you—”
“A word. Now!” she snapped, her words slicing the air like a whip.
Behind her, Kait Gerrick, my so-called assistant, smirked. She had clearly made it her duty to inform our boss of the day’s events the millisecond after they occurred.
How thoughtful of her.
Caleb looked at me and I gave a short nod. He hesitated but then walked away, leaving me to face down the wrath of Hyacinth alone.
As expected, Hyacinth wasn’t in the mood to hear the full story. All she wanted to do was rant and rave and fling about worst-case-scenarios faster than one of those tennis ball-lobbing machines set on berserk mode.
“—yet another disaster that will land the firm on the front page of the Herald, and I’ll be stuck spinning this for weeks—maybe months!—to come, and who do I find on the other side of the smoking pile of rubble…?”
She paused, her eyes glowing with heat as she turned them back on me.
I couldn’t tell if she wanted me to speak or not. Likely not, based on past interactions, but the words bubbled up before I could swallow them back down again.
“Fine! You win, Hyacinth. You caught me. The jig is up!” I exclaimed, throwing my hands up in surrender.
She snapped to attention, her eyes pure molten lava.
“That’s right, I’ll admit it,” I continued. “I secretly pay these people to hire the firm, me in particular, simply so they can have an epic disaster on the big day and land all of us in a juicy gossip column headline! The more embarrassing, the better, because, you know, that’s what’s important here. Not that a young wizard has just died. Not that his family and fiancé are in mourning and his friends are shocked and grieving. No, you’re right, none of that matters. What really matters here is that I’ve embarrassed the firm, I’ve embarrassed you. I’ve made your job hard.”
Witchy Weddings: A Magic Witch Mystery Series: The complete Touch of Magic series Page 33
