The Eldritch Conspiracy

34

“I would like a private word with the princess.” Igor stood just inside the door to my private hospital room. It was 4:00 A.M. but he looked as fresh as if it was the beginning of his day. He’d showered and changed clothes in the hours since I’d last seen him. Looking at him now, you’d have no clue that he’d been up all night dealing with the fallout of everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. His black suit was immaculate, the crease in his pants sharp enough to shave with. The white dress shirt he wore almost gleamed under the fluorescent lights.

Bruno, on the other hand, was a wreck. Slumped in the chair at my bedside, he wore the same clothes he’d thrown on in a hurry yesterday morning; his hair was rumpled and he had more than a shadow of a beard. Still, he was alert and wary as he sat up straighter in his seat. The look he gave me said as clearly as words that he didn’t think I was up to this.

He might have been right.

I am a fairly tough cookie, but everybody has a limit, and I was coming perilously close to mine. It wasn’t the violence, or even the demon—although I wondered if I’d ever relax enough to sleep soundly again. No, it was the memories. The things I’d seen in Mexico had cracked the protective magical shield that had blunted my memories of Ivy’s death and my torture. Seeing what had happened to Okalani had shattered that barrier entirely.

I remembered every cigarette burn, every cut, the threats and the terror. But most of all, I remembered my sheer helplessness as I watched my sister die a hideously gruesome death because she couldn’t control the ghouls her talent had raised. Each memory was as vivid, as raw, as the day it had happened.

I looked at Igor, who was standing silent and patient, then took a deep breath and shoved the memories into a box in my mind. I slammed down the lid and hoped it would hold. “I’ll be fine,” I said to Bruno. “Let us talk.”

Bruno didn’t argue, he just stood. He bent down to give me a tender kiss. Still leaning close, he whispered, “Whatever he wants, say no. You’ve done enough—more than enough.”

I didn’t answer. It wasn’t Bruno’s decision to make. It was mine. But I had to admit that I was leaning toward having the doctors give me enough sedatives to knock out an elephant, in hopes that I would be too deeply unconscious to dream.

Bruno straightened and shook his head. Walking past Igor, he gave the older man a very unfriendly look, but didn’t say a word. Only after the door was fully closed and we were alone did Igor come over to stand beside the bed.

“You are stronger than he knows,” Igor observed.

And more fragile than you think, I thought. What I said was, “What do you need?”

He looked down at me, his expression so utterly bland that it was at odds with his words. “We interrogated Princess Olga thoroughly.” I winced. He didn’t say torture, but I couldn’t help thinking it. “While the man you knew as Jan Mortensen was one of their top men, he was not the head of the organization. That man is still in place. So long as he lives, the movement will continue.”

I didn’t speak, just waited. There was more. I could tell.

“They have one final plan in place for during the wedding tomorrow.” He sighed, sounding weary. Either the strain of the last few days was showing, or he was a superlative actor. I couldn’t tell. But the regret in his voice when he spoke next sounded sincere. “Unfortunately, the oath she had taken killed her before she could give us any details. But we have a plan.”

Of course they did, and judging by his presence here, it involved me. “Tell me.”

“We do not believe that the enemy knows that we discovered Princess Olga was the traitor. Her arrest was handled discreetly, as was her questioning. We have a spawn on staff who is capable of being Princess Olga for the duration of the wedding. He is one of our best agents. Having him in place in the wedding party will assure the safety of the king and offer us the opportunity to surprise the enemy, and possibly lead him into an indiscretion that will reveal the identity of their leader.”

It was possible. I wouldn’t have thought it was likely, but I wasn’t a spy. Igor was, and was good enough at his job to have risen to the top of the Ruslandic intelligence agency during a time of serious political turmoil. Too, the fact that it was the best chance didn’t mean it was a good one. I gave Igor a searching look and asked the million-dollar question. “Who do you think it is?”

“We don’t know,” he admitted. “But it has to be someone highly placed and close enough to the royal family for Olga to have been able to contact him or her freely and without notice. We have had her under close surveillance for the past several weeks.”

It made sense. And while Igor hadn’t said that Olga’s father, Prince Arkady, was a prime suspect, he had to be. Poor Dahlmar. He had already had to deal with the betrayal of his sons and his niece. Now his brother was a suspect, too. “So, what do you want from me?”

“Just do what you have been. Be the maid of honor. Guard the princess until the wedding is over.”

“That’s it?”

“We will handle the rest.”

He sounded awfully confident, but was he really? If he was that confident, why even tell me the plan? I could have just guarded her without needing to know all of this. I was emotionally battered and utterly weary. I wanted to crawl in a hole and not come out for at least a month, and they knew it. So why tell me?

Because Adriana needed me. If I quit now, and something happened to her, I would never forgive myself.

Igor watched while I worked it out in my head. “So telling me the plan will keep me in the wedding party, huh? Sadly, you’re right. But hey, how bad can it be?” I asked with a forced smile, even though I knew how stupid a question it was.

Igor smiled with me. His baring of teeth was as cynical as mine. What a pair we were.

Igor pulled strings so that I was released from the hospital immediately and with minimal fuss. Bruno didn’t say a word in argument, just glowered menacingly at all and sundry. I found this equally annoying and endearing. I was glad that he loved me and was worried about me. At the same time, I was irritated that he was trying to protect me, for the same reason I’d objected to protection in the first place. I knew that didn’t make sense, but emotions frequently don’t.

The doctor met alone with me one last time before letting me go.

Dr. Shablinski was an older woman, probably in her sixties. She wore her hair in a short, spiky style that suited her harsh features. She was striking but not pretty. And right now, she was annoyed and wasn’t bothering to hide it. I could hear it all too clearly in her heavily accented mental voice when she spoke to me mind-to-mind.

I am not pleased that you are leaving the hospital. It is too soon. Your ears will not be fully healed, and there is post-traumatic stress that needs to be dealt with. You must rest in order to heal, and I am certain you will not if you leave. So while I cannot stop you, you are doing this against medical advice.

I shrugged. What was there to say? I understand and, actually, I agree with you. Once the wedding is over, I intend to take a nice, long vacation.

A … vacation. Her voice sounded dry in my head. How do you plan to do that if you can’t sleep?

Ouch. She was evidently as observant as she was efficient.

I don’t know. I keep remembering … I let the sentence drag off unfinished, not wanting to repeat the demon’s parting words to me.

She sighed. I am going to order a sedative for you—but only enough pills for one week. It will allow you dreamless slumber, but it is not a permanent solution. You will need to work something out with your cleric, and I would strongly suggest therapy. If you don’t have a therapist—

I have one back home on the mainland.

She nodded and started writing on a pad. Good. If you give me her number and sign a release, I can update her as to what has happened. You are going to need to address tonight’s events.

No kidding. Tonight’s events. Last week’s. Last month’s. Last year’s. Sheesh. I could foresee paying for Gwen’s future mansion with the therapy bills. But she was the best. And it would absolutely be worth the price if she could help me pull myself back together. Because, while I had been trying to put up a good front in front of Bruno and Igor, I was faking it big-time.

At the same time, I was worried. Gwen had once told me that if anything happened to my protections, she wouldn’t be able to reestablish them—doing so might destroy all my memories.

I signed the appropriate paperwork, took the proffered prescription, and we were on our way.

Creede was waiting at the car. Like Bruno, he didn’t say a word. But it wasn’t the first time he’d seen me throw myself into danger right after a demon encounter. He just shook his head and got into the front passenger seat while Bruno got in next to me in the back.

Even early as it was, there was an electric excitement in the air. It was as if the whole country was a small child and it was finally, finally Christmas morning. Today was the wedding day.

The limo drove through the streets leading to the castle in the thin, watery light of dawn. I watched through the window as the vendors bustled and tourists stumbled sleepily up to the police barriers, clutching steaming mugs or Styrofoam cups as they shivered slightly in the early-morning chill. Later in the day it was supposed to be sunny and in the seventies, but at the moment it was quite cool.

Had it really only been days since I’d made a similar pre-wedding drive through the streets of Serenity? It felt like years. Bad, dark years filled with pain.

Enough with the depressing thoughts, I admonished myself. It’s Adriana’s wedding day. I wished I could be as excited about it as the bystanders I saw outside the car windows. I just wasn’t. I tried giving myself a little internal pep talk, but the results were less than stellar.

Just get through the day. You can do this.

We reached the compound at 6:30. I sped to my rooms to relieve myself, have a quick shower, and retrieve my weapons and jewelry before heading down to the dressing room. At my request, the servants agreed to bring my breakfast there.

We were getting dressed in a different small room, not the one used for the fittings the previous day. I was glad. I don’t exactly believe in bad luck, but I wouldn’t have wanted to start this day in that room.

As before, the dresses were hung on racks, with the bridesmaids’ dresses shoved down to one end and Adriana’s wedding gown taking the rest of the space. I’d gotten only a peek at it before I was teleported away; now I took a closer look.

It was gorgeous, a simple, elegant design in ivory silk with embroidery and pearl beads and a long train trimmed in lace. I knew she would look absolutely stunning in it.

On the east wall were the hair and makeup areas. Neither were manned at the moment, but all the equipment was laid out at the ready. On another wall, a television played. The British announcers were filling the time before the actual event translating local background stories about everything from the designers of Adriana’s dress and veil to Rusland’s wedding traditions. A clock in one bottom corner of the screen showed a countdown until the wedding.

When she saw me at the door, Adriana ran to greet me with a glad cry and a huge hug. She was wearing a full-length housecoat, her hair loose and uncombed. Even so, she was gorgeous. She was radiant with joy and quivering with nerves. Her embrace was gentle and warm, and I could feel her delight as she released me.

Natasha hugged me next. She was a little shy and awkward about it, but that just made it feel more sincere.

“You are all right?” Natasha asked as I followed her over to the corner to examine my dress.

“My ears still hurt,” I admitted. I was having some problems with my balance as well. It wasn’t anything too serious, a touch of vertigo. Dr. Shablinski had said both problems would probably fade in a few days. The ear damage had been extensive enough that a regular human would have been permanently deaf. Of course, I didn’t go into that with Natasha. “Other than that, I’m okay.”

“You were fortunate.” She shuddered visibly. “A demon. You are very fortunate.”

“You got that right.”

“Celia!” I whirled at the sound of Gilda’s joyous shout. “You’re all right? I wanted so badly to warn you, but I could not move or speak. What a hideous, terrible spell.” Gilda burst into the room like a little tornado, with Isaac following in her wake. The two of them swept me into yet another hug. Apparently this was the day for it. While I’m not normally all that huggy, today it felt good, reassuring.

Gilda drew me away from the others, leading me behind the screens that had been set up to give us a private dressing area, and whispered, “Are you truly all right? You look … strained.”

“It was rough, but I’ll be okay.”

She pursed her lips, giving me a narrow-eyed look of pure skepticism. “If you say so.”

“I do.”

As she was helping me out of my shirt, she whispered near my ear, “We haven’t told your grandmother about what happened, darling. It wouldn’t help her heal. But she’s doing much better. She plans to watch you on television, so we’ll make you look extra special.” I thanked her for visiting my gran and wondered what the three of them—I assumed Isaac had gone, too; the Levys were rarely parted—had talked about.

It took a few minutes to slip out of my clothes. I was sort of sore. Sue me. Then I donned my best frilly underthings and armed myself. Next came the dress and jacket. I smoothed my hands along the fabric of the dress as I stepped out from behind the screen to give Isaac and Gilda a chance to examine their work.

The two of them circled me like sharks, examining me from every angle for long moments before finally expressing their satisfaction. I was happy with the result. The dress and jacket fit like a dream, and, thanks to Isaac’s magic, I could be well armed without looking like it. I had all my usual gear and then some—Isaac had tucked things I wasn’t sure even how to use into hidden pockets, murmuring, “If all else fails, throw them.”

Released, I sat on the edge of a chair and pulled on my thigh-high hose. Gone were the days when my legs would tan enough for me not to need stockings. These were black silk and as sheer as cobwebs. They perfectly matched my brand-new black lace bra and panties, so I felt very sexy pulling them on. I didn’t put on the shoes yet. The heels were high and because of the ear injury I figured I wouldn’t be entirely steady on them. I’d have switched shoes, but there was no time to rehem the dress. So I just said a quick prayer that I wouldn’t fall on my ass and make a fool of myself in front of the entire world.

Now that I was dressed, it was time to accessorize. I opened the jewel case sitting on the table beside me. Diamonds and amethysts sparkled in the bright overhead lights. I felt tears welling in my eyes as I looked at them. Isaac and Gilda were wonderful, wonderful friends. I loved them. But at this moment, I wished very much that I had family here. I missed my gran so much; missed Ivy’s ghost. I wanted to hear Gran say I looked pretty, have Ivy draw a heart in ice crystals on the mirror like she used to. I slipped on the earrings, controlling my expression, trying hard not to show anyone what I was feeling.

As if in response to my wish the temperature in the room dropped like a stone. The lights flickered overhead as Gilda fastened the necklace around my neck.

“Ivy?” I whispered. The lights flashed once in response. Our old code had been once for yes, twice for no. “I’m so glad you’re here.” I felt myself smiling. “I’ve missed you.”

As I watched, ice crystals formed on the full-length mirror in front of me, taking the shape of a heart.

Is that my cousin Ivy? Adriana came over to stand beside me, her voice perfectly clear inside my mind.

Yep. I think she knew I missed my family today.

Adriana opened her arms and let the cool air flow around her. Welcome, beloved cousin. I am most glad to have you at my wedding.

The lights flickered on and off joyfully. Few people ever spoke to Ivy directly except me. I could tell she was pleased by the way the air danced cool and then warm. But Celia, you should know that we are your family, too; my mother and I, and now Dahlmar as well. In fact, if you will come with me for a moment, I have a special gift for you.

Natasha was being quiet as a mouse, standing in the background, looking … sad. It was an odd reaction, out of place. Then again, she’d had a day like this not too long ago and had lost her husband shortly after. Maybe this brought back painful memories.

“Natasha, are you all right?” I asked.

She smiled at me in response. “I’m fine. Just remembering.”

Adriana spoke out loud for Natasha’s sake. “Ladies, before things get started, I’d like to give you each a thank-you gift.”

Adriana picked up a jeweler’s box from the top of her dressing table and passed it to Natasha. Inside was a necklace with an amethyst the size of my thumb, set in gold with accents of diamond. “I hope you like it.”

Natasha beamed and babbled something in Ruslandic that I assumed was thanks. Adriana answered her slowly, also in Ruslandic, then turned to me.

“My gift to you,” she said aloud as well as in my mind as she slid a pearl ring off of her finger and offered it to me. It’s not as valuable as the many gifts you’ve given to me, but it’s been in our family for a very long time. I hope you’ll wear it as a token of the affection I have come to feel for you.

I slid the ring onto the middle finger of my left hand. It fit perfectly. I felt a gentle thrum of magic as it slid into place and for an instant I could’ve sworn I heard the rush of waves tumbling into the sand. What in the world? I turned to Adriana, my eyes wide with surprise and pleasure. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you.” I am most grateful for the help you’ve given me and mine. I’m sorry for how I treated you when we first met. I was jealous.

I felt cool air on my tongue as my jaw dropped. Of me? Why? You had no reason to be.

But I thought I did. You look so much like the woman in my vision, the one who will follow my mother on the throne. It hurt. So, take this with my apology. The ring is a family heirloom. Its sole purpose is to strengthen and focus the telepathic abilities of the wearer. My mother gave it to me to encourage my siren abilities.

Wow. I knew Adriana’s siren abilities weren’t strong because her talent as a clairvoyant kind of cancelled them out. If she gave me this ring, would she have any siren powers at all? Are you sure you want to part with it? Won’t you need it?

No. I will be ruling Rusland. It is a land-locked country. Too, my abilities tell me that you will need it more. Not today, but someday. This is best.

It was such an unexpected gesture that I found myself sniffling.

Don’t you dare cry. If you do, I’ll start, and I don’t want red eyes and a chapped nose at my wedding.

I’m not crying. Well, not much. I gave her a bright smile and then spoke out loud. “It’s beautiful. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Celia, you’ve saved my life how many times now? I think that’s more than thanks enough. I just wish there was more I could do.” She reached forward and held both of my hands in hers, squeezing lightly but with warmth.

We were interrupted by a light tap on the door.

Adriana glanced around, making sure everybody was decent, withdrew her hands, then called, “Come in.” The door opened, revealing Queen Lopaka, a vision of loveliness in a coral-colored skirt suit with pearl buttons, her blond hair swept into a perfect chignon. She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. Crossing the room to the privacy screen, she disappeared. In less than a minute the queen’s suit was hanging over the top of the screen. I felt magic in the air, and a moment later, a deep male voice asked, “Could someone please pass me Princess Olga’s dress?”

I plucked it from the clothes rack and brought it over, inadvertently catching a glimpse of a hairy man with bushy eyebrows wearing a pair of Wile E. Coyote boxers. I managed to hide my smirk. I hoped.

“Hi. I’m Celia Graves,” I said as I passed him the hanger.

“Lars Balakan. It is an honor to serve my king and his queen.” Despite his appearance, Lars bowed with immense dignity.

I turned, letting him do his thing in private.

As he was changing, there was another knock. This time it was the hairdresser and makeup artist, who hurried to their stations. I recognized them both from the ceremony on Serenity.

“Princess Celia,” Brenna called. “I’ll start with you.”

As I walked across the room toward her, I felt the surge of magic. Moments later, Lars emerged from behind the screen as Olga.

“You there. I’ll start with makeup,” Lars called in Olga’s exact voice as he swished his way over to us, wiggling his hips. Wow. He even had her snarkiness down pat.

That was just … disturbing.

Are either of you as bothered by that as I am? I thought to Adriana and Natasha, but apparently Ivy overheard, too, since overhead, the lights blinked once. Hmm. I hadn’t known she could hear thoughts. Across the room, Natasha shuddered and gave me a small nod.

Adriana didn’t respond. She was too busy getting into her gown and veil.

I waited until Lars was finished before taking my place at the makeup station. The stylist began with a layer of sunblock as I sat utterly still, watching the clock on the television counting relentlessly down to the moment when we would leave. With each tick, I felt the tension in the room ratchet up another notch. Each of us tried to pretend we weren’t nervous and failed miserably.

Once again I went over the arrangements in my mind. The men had gone ahead and would be meeting us at the church. Gunnar would escort Adriana up the stairs to Dahlmar and the priests. Yes, priests, plural. The king’s confessor had been given a small part to play in the ceremony as a courtesy, while Adriana’s father, Feliks, would be the primary officiant. As best man, Igor would escort me. Prince Arkady was next with “Olga,” and Sergei, a distant cousin who was so reserved I’d barely noticed him (and had yet to hear speak), would follow with Natasha.

We’d pose at the top of the steps, then go into the church’s vestibule for the betrothal ceremony that would take place before we entered the nave, where the dignitaries of the world awaited.

Two minutes to go. Adriana slipped the fine, lace-trimmed veil onto her head, pinning it in place. In the vestibule, a crown would be placed over the veil and an elaborate ritual would take place, including both Dahlmar and Adriana being given communion. I put on my heels and took a couple of experimental steps, telling myself that I would be fine. My balance still wasn’t good, but I could do heels. I hoped.

The door opened. It was time. Surrounded by a phalanx of Secret Service, we made our way outside, to the waiting pair of horse-drawn carriages. Adriana rode alone in the first carriage. Natasha, Lars, and I rode in the second.

The procession only lasted a couple of miles, but it seemed endless. The crowd roared as the two coaches drove past. I waved, the silly, little royal wave it seemed I had figured out how to do. I still felt ridiculous. But at the same time it was a huge rush, seeing the crowds waving and cheering, hearing them scream our names. I could see how it could get addictive.

Ahead, Adriana’s carriage pulled to a stop at the foot of the long staircase that led up to the cathedral. As planned, our male escorts waited for us in a row near the stairs. Dahlmar cut quite a figure at the top, in his traditional Ruslandic uniform, which was black with silver buttons and a silver sash. Not that it was easy to see the fabric of the sash, because it was so heavily medaled and beribboned. It must have weighed a ton. He wore the charm that offered him immunity from siren magic out in plain sight for everyone—and the cameras—to see. But his real, unenchanted joy in his bride was obvious the minute he caught sight of her.

It was as if the sun rose at her arrival, and when she smiled back, you could see the love between them. Next to Dahlmar stood Anton, Dahlmar’s old confessor, and beside him, Feliks. Both clergymen wore full regalia, their robes glittering with elaborate embroidery and sparkling gold thread.

“Awwww,” Lars cooed in Olga’s voice as our carriage pulled to a stop behind Adriana’s. “Isn’t that sweet?”

Natasha looked at him, blinked, shook her head, and looked away, obviously disconcerted. I couldn’t say I blamed her. It was more than a little disturbing to me, and this wasn’t the first time I’d worked with a spawn. I was worried about whether or not he’d be able to go into the church. Surely he’d have told someone if that was a problem? On the other hand, I really couldn’t imagine the almighty being okay with a half-demon entering the cathedral.

“Showtime,” Lars said as the footman opened the carriage door.

I watched as Gunnar Thorsen stepped up to Adriana’s carriage. Holding her hand, he helped her down from the step stool the footman had provided, then began escorting her up the stairs to join her future husband.

I waited, as I’d been told, until the bride and her escort were ten steps ahead. Igor stepped up, his actions a perfect echo of Gunnar’s, and the two of us began to make stately progress up the steps. Ten steps behind us were Lars and Dahlmar’s brother, Prince Arkady. Natasha and Sergei took their first steps just as Gunnar and Adriana reached the top.

On cue, the entire group turned and waved. The crowd went wild.

Gunnar stepped aside as Adriana took Dahlmar’s arm. The cathedral doors opened of their own accord, thanks to a little magic. We entered the cathedral in pairs. As Natasha and her escort crossed the threshold, the doors swung closed behind them, muffling the crowd noise; a moment later, the privacy spells clicked into place, cutting the sound off completely as the church became isolated.

Dahlmar and Adriana had chosen to keep the betrothal portion of the ceremony small and private. Even Queen Lopaka wasn’t present; she was seated in the nave, in the front pew. That might have seemed odd to outsiders, but in her eyes, her daughter was already married. The ceremony on Serenity had been the one that mattered to the queen.

It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, but it was a pleasure to be inside the church vestibule and out of the burning sunlight.

I’d seen photos of the church but they hadn’t done it justice. White marble walls soared nearly forty feet upward, the silver-veined stone elaborately sculpted where it framed huge stained-glass windows. The glass depicted the patriarchs of the church, each with their right hands raised in blessing, each image laden with symbols. Sunlight streamed through the windows, painting rainbow patterns on the polished black marble floor.

Once we moved into the main chapel, the eyes of the world would be on us. But not now. For the moment we were a small, quiet group of friends and family in a peaceful, intimate, and beautiful setting. I glanced around, taking it all in at the same time as I automatically checked for threats.

To my right, on the wall opposite where the ceremony was to take place, was a long stand filled with candleholders of bright red glass. Each burning votive represented a petition being placed before God.

Dahlmar and Adriana moved to take their place on a matched pair of wooden kneelers, elaborately carved and stained black, polished to shine as brightly as the floor. Each had an embroidered and tassled cushion to kneel on and a crown resting atop. They faced a cross carved directly into the wall; its exquisite detail mimicked the stones set into the cross Adriana wore around her neck.

Anton, the aged priest who had served as Dahlmar’s confessor from childhood, shuffled slowly into the space between the kneelers. He had asked to give a blessing to the pair before the official ceremony began, and King Dahlmar had gladly agreed. No one suspected anything was wrong when Anton raised his right hand and began murmuring softly. I certainly didn’t—until I felt the swirl of powerful magic building and caught a glimpse of a spell ball clutched in his hand.

“No!” I shouted, lunging toward him. Time seemed to slow. I saw a blur of motion out of the corner of my eye and Arkady body-checked me, slamming me to the floor and knocking the wind from my lungs. My head banged against the marble and I saw stars. I tried to draw my gun, but Arkady grabbed my arm, forcing it away until he pinned both of my wrists to the floor with more strength than any mere human could manage. I’m not human anymore and I still couldn’t break his grip. I shouted in rage, calling for help until Arkady began to strangle me.

Lars, still the image of Olga, moved to help me, but Sergei intercepted “her,” apparently intending to protect her from the violence. His mistake. Lars flung the other man aside as if he were made of feathers. Igor grabbed Arkady, probably intending to do the same to him. But the prince felled Igor with a single blow. Still, in the moment it took him to do that, Lars was upon him. Evenly matched, the two began fighting in earnest, moving away from me. I rolled to my knees as I drew a weapon, knowing even as I aimed that I was too late. Dahlmar and Igor were both in motion, but everyone was moving so slowly.…

With a triumphant cry, Anton prepared to throw the spell ball onto the floor to break it.

He hadn’t counted on Adriana. No one had. Despite all the turmoil around her, she had remained calm. She had pulled my derringer from the holster at her ankle; now, even as Anton laughed, she flicked off the safety and fired.

She hadn’t taken time to aim and she was unfamiliar with the gun, but the bullet hit the old priest squarely in the center of his mass. Anton shrieked in agony as blood blossomed like a hideous flower in the middle of his torso, spreading in a rapid stain over the white and gold of his ceremonial robes.

It was a shot that would kill, but not instantly. With the last vestiges of his strength, the old man tried to fling the spell ball to the floor. Dahlmar grabbed his arm, wrenching the little ball from his hand. Anton fell, dying, onto the cold marble floor that was already slick with his blood.

I turned away. That part of the fight was over. Drawing a One Shot from its slot in my jacket, I watched Lars and Arkady’s struggle and waited for my chance. When I saw an opening, I aimed a stream of holy water directly at Arkady’s face.

He shrieked in shock, pain, and rage, the illusion magic of a demon spawn ripped away by the impact of holy water. Lars was splashed as well and his true form suddenly shredded Olga’s bridesmaid’s dress.

Dropping the One Shot, I drew my Colt. From the corner of my eye I saw Igor draw a weapon from beneath his jacket. Adriana was also taking aim with my derringer. A tiny part of my mind was free to be amused, imagining the picture we made. “Freeze or die.”

They froze. With my mind I sought, and found, John Creede’s thoughts, not far away. John, it’s Celia. Is Prince Arkady with you? I’ve got a spawn here in the church.

He sounded surprised at the clarity of my mental voice and confused, like I should know what was going on. Sure, he’s here. He suggested using an imposter, said he didn’t trust security with so many people in the church. He told me he was going to tell you and the other bodyguards.

Yeah, right. His spawn just attacked me as part of an attempt on Dahlmar and Adriana. The scene is secure but the bride and groom will need to clean up a little before the public ceremony.

The language Creede used in my mind wasn’t polite, but it was certainly colorful. The real Arkady was going to have some explaining to do. Are you all right?

It hurt to swallow and my head was swimming a bit, but by God I was alive, so I wasn’t about to complain. I will be. Don’t let Arkady go anywhere, okay? I want to have a little chat with him, and I know King Dahlmar will, too.

John’s voice in my head was filled with dangerous outrage. Don’t worry. He’ll be right here.

While I’d been talking with John, Natasha’s father had moved away from where he had been shielding her with his body. Feliks knelt beside his fellow priest and began muttering prayers in Ruslandic. I realized that some of the pounding in my head was pounding on the church doors; Lars opened one just wide enough to admit Gunnar Thorsen. Igor smiled at me as the door opened and said, “No one outside will see anything.”

Igor bound the fake Arkady, using fetters handed to him by Thorsen, though where Gunnar been carrying them inside his well-fitted suit, I had no idea.

Dahlmar and Adriana simply stood, holding each other, as Natasha and a red-faced, embarrassed Sergei looked on. Now what? We had a captive, a corpse, and the world waiting for a wedding. If the public found out what had happened, there’d be outrage at the violation of the sanctity of the church. We had a few minutes, at best, to figure out some way to salvage this debacle. I thought furiously, trying to come up with some sort of solution.

King Dahlmar’s face was lined with worry, probably for his rotten brother. I could at least reassure him about that. “Your brother is fine. He’s with John Creede. John will keep him safe and close by so we can question him and see if he’s involved.” Honestly, I was thinking he was. He was Olga’s father and she’d been in this up to her eyeballs. Yes, she could’ve done it without him. But putting a spawn in his place without advising the king looked awfully fishy, and not just to me. I could tell from Igor’s expression that he was looking forward to spending some quality time with the prince.

Dahlmar’s reaction, however, was relief so pure that his body sagged with it. He loved his family. A lot of them hadn’t deserved it, but he loved them. I felt his pain.

“What do we do about the wedding?” Natasha asked. “It must proceed … but this—” She gestured at the mess we’d made of the vestibule.

She had a point. Suddenly I remembered Adriana’s vision. This was the room. Now was the time.

“Adriana, Dahlmar, kneel back down on the kneelers.”

They looked at me as if I were insane. And not just for breaking protocol by not using the king’s title.

“Please?”

“What are you thinking, cousin?” Adriana asked suspiciously.

“This is the place we saw in your vision in the mirror. If that vision was accurate, there’s a secret room somewhere close at hand. We can hide the evidence until after you’re safely married.”

She gave me a doubtful look before meeting Dahlmar’s eyes. Face set with grim determination, he strode back to the kneeler and took his place. Seconds later, she joined him. She took a breath and her eyes unfocused for a moment; I guessed she was recalling the details of the vision. Then, as she had in that vision, Adriana reached out to press the small protuberance at the base of the kneeler.

With the grinding of stone upon stone, a door appeared in the far wall, behind the display of votive candles.

Everyone turned to stare at me in wide-eyed wonder. Even Igor looked impressed. Wow. Alrighty then. Trying not to act too startled that my shot in the dark had worked, I poked my head into the secret room. “Gunnar,” Adriana ordered, “go with her. Let nothing harm her.”

I waited for Thorsen to join me and we went through the door, which was marked with an ornate cross that matched the one Adriana wore.

It was a small room, not much larger than a walk-in closet. The walls were the same white marble of the church foyer; three of them were lined with shelves. At the sight of what rested on those shelves, all I could think was whoa.

“Impressive,” Thorsen whispered. Whispering seemed proper, for the shelves were filled with treasures. There were paintings, many wrapped in cloth, others left bare; jewel boxes and caskets; crowns; gold and silver altar implements—all crowded together without any kind of order.

Dahlmar started to rise, and I heard the faint creak of stone. “Um, please don’t. I don’t want to get trapped in here.”

He growled in frustration but didn’t move. “I want to see!”

Remembering my quick history lessons about Rusland, I answered, “It’s the missing state treasures, Your Highness. The ones that disappeared during the war. I’m guessing that all of them are here.”

We stepped back out of the room. The minute we did, King Dahlmar rose. Smooth as silk, the cross slid back into place, concealing the door so perfectly I would never have guessed there was anything unusual about the wall. The craftsmanship was amazing. So was the concealing magic. As a paranormal creature, I can usually sense all kinds of magic, but I’d never have twigged onto this. Wow. Just, wow.

From the look on his face, King Dahlmar was about to order someone to kneel so he could get a look inside the closet. Before he could say anything, though, I spoke up.

“Okay,” I said briskly. “I suggest we put the corpse and Arkad … whoever the spawn is, in the room until after the wedding. Um, Lars … would you mind watching over them? We can’t risk him getting away.”

Lars gave a brisk nod of agreement. With Thorsen present, I really wasn’t sure who was in charge, but everybody was still looking at me, so I kept talking, making up a plan as I went along. I said to Feliks, “If you will go ahead with the betrothal, I’ll use some of the cloths they wrapped the paintings in to clean up the mess as best I can.”

I took a good look at the bride and groom and realized that they’d both been spattered with blood when Adriana had shot Anton. On Dahlmar, it was mostly invisible—in a few spots the glitter of his medals was dimmed—but on Adriana’s lovely gown even a tiny scattering of red seemed screamingly bright and obvious. “Oh, there’s blood on Adriana’s dress.…”

“I have a beauty enhancement charm left,” Natasha said.

I blinked at her somewhat stupidly. She was gorgeous, why on earth would she need—

Sensing my confusion, she explained as she rummaged in the hidden pocket of her jacket. “You are both sirens. I am not. I thought I might need some help in such company.”

Sergei shook his head, his dark eyes bright. “You are perfect as you are, Princess. Then again, you always are.”

I raised an eyebrow at that one, but it certainly made a favorable impression on Natasha, judging by her blush. Then again, maybe he’d known her for years and was just now speaking up. How would I know?

“Thank you, Sergei.” Natasha shot him a smile as she handed the charm disk to Adriana, who wasted no time cracking it open. Immediately the stains on her wedding dress disappeared, as did the small wrinkles from where she had been kneeling. The lines of strain around her eyes disappeared as well. She looked perfect. It might be an illusion, but it was a damned good one.

What is taking so long, niece? Queen Lopaka’s imperious voice intruded on my thoughts. Normally she’s gentle, but now she was worried and irritated.

We’ve had a bit of a … complication. Everything is fine. But we need another minute or two, and Arkady and Olga won’t be attending.

There was a pause but then she answered smoothly. I will warn the musical director. You are sure Adriana is all right? Her voice in my head is very faint.

I looked at my hand. No wonder the queen had been able to reach me through the privacy shields. She gave me her ring.

Oh. The queen’s mental voice didn’t sound any too pleased about that. I hoped I hadn’t gotten Adriana in trouble with her mother. But I didn’t have time to worry about that now. As she’d so aptly pointed out, we were running late.

“Let’s go, folks. The queen just told me the natives are getting restless.”

King Dahlmar and Adriana knelt. The priest crowned them, wrapped their hands together with ribbon, and spoke his part very quickly before unwrapping their hands and moving out of the way.

Adriana hit the secret button again. When the door appeared, Lars and Thorsen dragged Anton’s corpse and the struggling spawn into the secret room.

Sergei, Natasha, and I set to work grabbing rags and cleaning blood from the foyer floor and furnishings.

The results weren’t perfect, but when we threw the bloodied rags into the treasure closet and closed the entrance, I looked around carefully. If you hadn’t known what had happened, you probably wouldn’t notice, particularly with the crowds of people that would be soon passing through.

“It will do,” Adriana assured me. “Now, everyone take your places.”

Igor came up beside me, taking my arm. “Do I look okay?” I asked.

“You look lovely,” he assured me. “No blood anywhere.”

“Oh good.”