Chapter 677
Katelina tensed in front of the mirror. It was October, five months since the battle, since Sarah died, and Samael disappeared. In all that time she'd heard from him once, a single sentence:
"I am home. When you weary of the world, you are welcome."
Verchiel said he'd retaken his palace in China, and the humans were advised to let it go. The Kugsankal, now led by Inanna, was keeping an eye on him. Katelina wondered if they could actually stop him if they needed to.
Hopefully we never find out.
The Guild had gotten away with the attack in Arizona. Internet videos surfaced after the fact, showing a rooftop fight with super humans. Public opinion labeled them fake. A lone survivor tried to tell the story of what he'd seen. He made it as far as a crackpot radio show before he was found in an alley, dead from an overdose.
Zander went back to his coven, seemingly older and wiser. Though he'd started to pray to a nameless entity, his brothers soon had him back to their old ways. They convinced him that Lilith had stolen the title from the real Night Goddess and twisted the religion into something vile to suit her; that praying to the goddess was not praying to Lilith. For all Katelina knew, they were right. When Samael had planned to turn her, he'd spoken of night gods, and the language of Zander's prayers was the same that Samael had used. Maybe it was based on something from thousands of years ago.
Meanwhile, Brandle and Angelica disappeared, promising to "visit", though they all knew it was a polite lie.
As for Kai, he'd settled into being a vampire with the same quiet fortitude he'd used to survive being a human slave. Katelina wished she had half his calm. Especially, today.
She blinked at herself and leaned closer to her reflection. She'd tried to imitate some of the tricks Torina had used on her; the shaded lipstick, the multi-layered eyeshadow. She wasn't as good as the Vampiress had been, but it was an improvement over her usual "slap it on and go" routine.
The thought of Torina brought a bittersweet sadness. If she'd still been alive, no doubt she'd have been there. Instead-
Xandria leaned in front of Katelina to attached the filmy veil. "There. Now you look like a TV bride."
After everything with Loren and Zander, Katelina wasn't sure how she felt about Xandria, but she'd needed a bridesmaid. Women seemed to be in short supply in her world.
Katelina sighed. "I might look good, but I can't see." There was no way she could walk from her room, all the way to the atrium, without tripping over everything in the citadel.
The Guild's citadel was the last place she'd wanted to hold her wedding, until Jorick pointed out they'd be responsible for housing guests.
"You look beautiful, Kately," her mother enthused.
Katelina lifted the veil to peer at her mom's teary eyed face. "Of course you think so. You're my mother. It's a requirement."
Patricia patted her daughter's updo, tucking in stray hairs. "Not necessarily." She touched the collection of charms around Katelina's neck. "This necklace-"
"It's fine, mom."
"What is it?" She picked through an antique cross, a little blue jewel, and half of a shattered heart, its inscription worn smooth with age.
"The cross belonged to Jorick's ex-wife." Xandria slipped on her shoes. "The other two belonged to Sarah."
"Jorick's ex? Really?" Her mother studied her. "Is he making you wear this?"
"No, mother." Katelina stepped back, forcing her to let go. "He'd rather I throw it away, but I don't want to. It's a part of him, like Sarah was a part of me; a part of our pasts and what made us who we are. Getting rid of a piece of jewelry won't change that."
"No, but it looks terrible." Her mother stuffed the charms down the neckline of the dress. "If you must wear it, everyone doesn't need to see it."
Katelina let it go. It doesn't matter, she told herself. Like the other five million fussy things her mother had butted into didn't matter.
Why am I doing this again?
But she knew the answer. It was waiting for her in the atrium, no doubt as aggravated as she was.
Yeah, well, the wedding was his idea.
Patricia adjusted a jeweled bracelet on Katelina's wrist. Sadness flashed in her eyes and disappeared. Katelina understood; the piece was all that was left of her grandmother's jewelry, lost in the destruction.
A knock sounded. Xandria opened the door on Micah.
"Hey, you about ready to go, or you plannin' to hold the whole damn thing up?"
"She's ready," her mother said. "I don't know why you chose him to be involved."
Katelina hadn't actually chosen Micah. When the word wedding came up, he'd immediately signed himself up with the excuse that he was her master "This fledgling shit has to count for something, huh?" It turned out he was right; instead of her father, her master would be the one to give her away.
I'm not human anymore, yet they still treat me like a hamster.
Getting him to dress up was another matter. Katelina noticed that, though he wore the suit and red tie they'd picked out, he still had his motorcycle boots.
It doesn't matter. It's just a detail. It's not important.
She gave herself a once over in the mirror. When Jorick first insisted on a white dress she accused him of being old fashioned, then realized it was another branch of his woman-in-white fetish. Not that she didn't like the dress. The bodice was made of white swirls with a plunging neckline that showed just enough cleavage to be feminine. Sheer three-quarter sleeves were capped in more swirls at the shoulders and cuffs, while the skirt was a mound of chiffon that made her think of a fairytale princess.
But the veil was overkill.
She tugged it free and tossed it on the bed. "That's better."
Her mother frowned. "A veil is traditional."
"So is throwing rice and releasing doves, but we're not doing that." She took a deep breath. "All right. Let's get this over with."
Her mother stuffed a giant bouquet in her hands. A mixture of blood red tulips, garden roses, and protea, surrounded by ferns and tied with a silvery white ribbon, it had been Xandria's choice, "A bold contrast," she'd called it, then launched into a long explanation of symbolism that Katelina nodded along to.
Xandria picked up her own bouqueta smaller version with a single heavy rose and a few tulipsand smoothed her black sheath dress. Sleeveless, it would have been risqu¨¦ on a more endowed woman. With Xandria's slim frame and small chest, it worked.
Patricia pursed her lips, and Katelina ignored it. Her mother had strong opinions about a bridesmaid wearing black. "It's unlucky." Xandria had gone off on a long spiel about the true nature of black and its meaning. Katelina had tuned out. She didn't care about bold contrast, or secret symbols. She just wanted to look good for the pictures.
I'll have to look at them for a long, long time.
