Wedding Bells and Deadly Spells Page 3
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 move quickly. Evan was covered with a white sheet and 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 the 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.
I lifted my hands and mocked a celebratory dance. “Woohoo! Touchdown! Another job well done.”
Hyacinth’s lips went so thin they disappeared, blending seamlessly into her beet-red complexion. “This is a joke to you?” she asked, each word sounding like it was being torn from her lips.
“No.” I shook my head and lowered my voice. “The only joke here is on me, and that’s the one where I thought I could ever make you happy. I stupidly thought that if I worked hard enough, brought in enough new clients, or hit some magical number of success stories, that someday you’d stop gunning for me and would realize that I am damn good at my job and that I deserve the success and recognition of being a top-rate wedding planner.”
I breathed a hollow laugh. “Silly me.”
Hyacinth thrust her shoulders back, her chin jutting out in defiance. “You will go out there and you will tell the guest what happened and you will stay until everyone has gone. We will discuss this come Monday.”
My jaw flexed. “No.”
“Excuse me?” Hyacinth snapped.
“I’m done.” I shrugged. “I’m done with all of this. You win, Hyacinth. You want me gone, well, now I’m gone.”
“What are you saying?” she asked, her eyes daring me to take the next step out onto the razor-thin ice.
I drew in a shallow breath, panic alarms starting to blare in the depths of my mind. “I quit.”
I didn’t wait to watch her full reaction to my declaration. Instead, I turned away and marched back up the aisle, keeping my shoulders squared and my chin high.
Only once I rounded the corner and stepped back into the alcove Caleb and I had occupied minutes before did I break. My own words echoed through my head as if I were stuck in a vast canyon.
I quit…quit…quit.
Quit?!
Shivers trailed down my arms, radiating from my spine, which suddenly felt as strong as an overcooked linguine noodle. On wobbling legs, I barreled down the hall toward the kitchen. Francois would be there and I needed an ally.
Or, an industrial-sized garbage can to throw up in.
Maybe both.
Yes. Both would be good.
Inside the kitchen, I found Francois, the massive trash can, and Caleb.
The two men turned at my entrance and as I barreled toward the can, they said in unison, “Ana?”
“Is everything all right?” Caleb asked.
My stomach roiled sideways as I grabbed the sides of the can.
“I think … I think I just quit my job.”
Chapter 4
“Personally, I think it sounds badass. I’ve always wanted to go down in a blaze of glory like that! Unfortunately, I’ve never been given the chance, as it’s usually me on the receiving end of the employment termination.”
“It wasn’t a blaze of glory,” I corrected Harmony, giving her a dark look across the table. She was entirely too happy about my departure from the firm. “It was an impulsive rant and the biggest mistake of my entire life.”
Harmony’s lips twisted into a pout. “I think that’s a little dramatic. Taking Charlie Lawley as your prom date was much worse. I assure you.”
“Gee, thanks,” I growled into my plate of mostly untouched pasta. “I feel so much better now.”
“Oh, come on, Stace. I mean, he was what, four inches shorter than you? His breath smelled like he lived off sardines or anchovies, some kind of saltwater fish, and on top of that he—”
“Harmony, enough!” I snapped.
Rising from my place at the table, I carried my plate to the kitchen and shoved it into the fridge. Grabbing a bottle of wine in one hand and snagging a long-stemmed glass with the other, I marched back to the living room. “Don’t you have to get ready for work soon?” I asked, plopping down on the sofa.
“I swapped shifts with Valeria,” Harmony said, still at the table.
I eyed her. “So you could stay home and babysit me?”
She frowned at me. “Actually, so she could stay home. Her kid’s were sick.”
“Oh.”
I poured a full glass for myself, ignoring the burning sensation in my cheeks.
“But, since I am here, I think we should do something,” she continued. “We need to get your mind off this whole thing.”
I snorted. “Not likely.”
“Stace,” she whined, using the nickname she’d used for me since we were young. “You can’t sit around moping all night.”
“Why not?”
She rolled her eyes and rose from her place at the table. She ducked into the kitchen and I could hear her scraping her leftovers back into the takeout container they’d come in. Neither of us were cooks and we relied on a heavy rotation of neighboring eateries for most meals. Tonight’s dinner had come from the eight-table Italian cafe of the corner. Pasta and rich sauce. Pure comfort food. It had all sounded appealing when we ordered, but in the end, I’d barely touched my meal.
“This isn’t the end of the world,” she insisted, reappearing at the entry to the kitchen. “You’ll find another job. A better job.”
I sighed and then drank deeply from the glass of dry Riesling. “It wasn’t a job, Harmony. It was my career. My entire life. My dream.”
I didn’t expect her to understand. She’d never worked somewhere more than a year. Always bouncing from one fleeting interest to the next—usually on the heels of being fired or dismissed. Her current position as a hostess had been her longest running job to date, as far as I knew, and she was coming up on her one-year anniversary. Even still, it wasn’t the same. Anyone could smile and pass out menus and direct customers to the restrooms.
Stars, if I didn’t figure something out quick, I’d be forced to go begging Marco Dupree for a job at the upscale restaurant. Wouldn’t that be nice, Harmony and I both working in the same place.
Ugh.
“You don’t have to stop being a wedding planner just because you don’t work for A Touch of Magic anymore,” Harmony countered, coming to sit on one of the upholstered chairs opposite the sofa. She placed an empty glass on the coffee table between us and I leaned forward and filled it from the bottle of wine. “Aren’t there any other event planning firms in the haven?”
The Seattle Haven was much smaller than the human city that encapsulated it. There were dozens of thriving businesses and thousands of residents, but not so many that it could support two dueling event-planning firms. There simply weren’t enough clients. Even with their reputation and high-profile brand, A Touch of Magic wasn’t solely sustained by weddings. Nor did they only cater to supernatural clientele. They had an office in the human side of Seattle, too. I used to work there before getting promoted to the magic side of the firm and finally securing my dream job and the plush office that went along with it.
A flash of regret surged through me. My office. I’d need to go and pack up my personal belongings. How humiliating. I could already imagine Kait’s smug face. Stars. Had she moved in already? It was hardly a question. Of course she had. I could just picture her flying out of the chapel, racing across town, and throwing the contents of her own desk into a box with lightning speed, all ready to move in as soon as Hyacinth returned and handed over the key.
We’d started at the firm around the same time and had spent eight years bumping into one another—sometimes full-on colliding—in our race to the top of the ladder. I still wasn’t sure what had made Hyacinth choose me for the promotion from associate t
o full-fledged wedding planner, but for whatever reason, she’d selected me and I’d made the final move past Kait, securing my place at the top. Kait had been furious and ratcheted her opposition tactics up to eleven.
And in the end, I’d taken myself out of the game.
My stomach rolled as I recalled the look of glee on Kait’s face during my confrontation with Hyacinth.
“Whatever. We’ll see how she likes it once Hyacinth’s breathing down her neck, instead of mind,” I muttered, sagging back against the sofa.
“What?”
I glanced up, having momentarily forgotten Harmony was there. “Nothing.”
She eyed me skeptically but didn’t press me.
“There aren’t any other firms in the Seattle Haven,” I told her, recalling her question. “I’d have to move to another haven, maybe Portland or San Francisco, if I want to stay in a magic event-planning firm. Otherwise, I can go back to working in the human world.”
Harmony wrinkled her nose, her expression mirroring the way the suggestion felt under my own skin. Working in the human world was the last thing I wanted to do, but then, moving didn’t sound great either. What would Caleb and I do if I were to move to another haven? I’d never attempted a long distance relationship before, but had plenty of friends who’d done it, none of them recommended it. I couldn’t lose my career and my relationship. One was bad, but to have both gone…? It was out of the question.
“What about starting your own business?” Harmony suggested. She took a sip of wine, pulled a face, and set her glass back on the coffee table. “You have connections all over the haven, a killer portfolio, and tons of reviews.”
I smiled. It was flattering, but completely out of the realm of possibilities. “I don’t think so,” I told her.