Two days later, our small family safely landed in Paris. It was here, in the province of Île-de-France, at the ancestral home of the de Manshands, that our grand wedding ceremony was to take place. Mom kept trying to lift my spirits, and every now and then, she would tug me at my sleeve and dreamily go over the details of her own wedding decades ago. She chattered nonstop about how, not so long ago, Sabrina and I hated each other so much that we were ready to tear each other’s throats out. So considerate of her!
I endured her babbling stoically, all while stealing glances at my beloved out of the corner of my eye. In fact, I have been trying to keep my distance for now – to avoid idle arguments about the wedding’s insignificant, minute details, thus souring everyone’s festive mood. My nervousness didn’t escape dad, when, just before boarding, I had politely asked mom to swap seats with me so she could sit next to Sabrina. Mr. Cornell Sr. tried hard to keep his composure and not give me a lecture, but in the end, he couldn’t hold back.
“Don’t stress so much, son. It’s just a wedding,” was his idea of cheering me up. “It’s natural to be nervous in the run-up to it. But there’s no need to torture yourself like that.”
I didn’t argue but just smiled back and turned on my MP3 player, signalling the end of the conversation.
“It’s just a wedding…” The words weighed heavy on my heart, and I turned even gloomier. I had naively hoped that our wedding would be a modest affair: a small chapel in my hometown, only close friends and family. Not some grandiose ball type gathering with a bunch of strangers, “thanks to whom you haven’t been kicked out of the Order yet,” – quoting dad. With my reputation in the Order being, putting it mildly, not-so-great, I was genuinely worried that I may not be able to keep my cool on my own wedding day. And Sabrina… Oddly enough, although it was entirely expected, all Sabrina was fretting over was her wedding gown. After all, the long-awaited masterpiece was being created by none other than the greatest fashion designer of all time, Derek. But Derek, as I had thought he might, had disappeared from our radar more than 24 hours prior, after first switching off his mobile.
We stood in silence at the baggage carousel at Charles de Gaulle Airport. My parents were discussing something in hushed voices; Sabrina was glancing around nervously, searching for her self-confessed couturier. Whereas I was biting my tongue not to deliver another round of “Didn’t I tell you so?”
“Jack! I don’t know what I’ll do to myself if Derek doesn’t show up!” whispered my wife-to-be, gripping my hand tightly. “Promise me that if he disappears on us, you’ll find him for me, so I can kill him!”
Well, I tell her he would?! Why does this girl never listen to me?
“You know, darling, even if he doesn’t show up—which, by the way, I’ve warned you about more than once—there’s nothing to worry about! What do you even need Derek for? We’re in the fashion capital of the world, for heaven’s sake! Don’t you think there are enough dresses to choose from here? I’m certain we can find one so stunning that Derek himself would drop dead – pun intended – at the sight of it. And that he’s quite good at.” I finished my impromptu rant under Sabrina’s scorching glare.
“Are you saying my dress, and what I want to look like on my wedding day, doesn’t really matter?” she hissed, not taking her eyes off me.
“Oh, did I imply that? No, my dear. That’s not what I meant. I’m just saying I can’t wait till this damn circus is over!” I snapped, not holding back anymore. I freed my hand from hers abruptly and rummaged around in my pockets for a cigarette. “Come on, did you really pack all my cigarettes in our checked luggage?” I exclaimed angrily, finding my pockets empty.
“I hate you so much right now, Jack. You have no idea!” Sabrina hissed furiously, heaved a sigh, and headed toward the exit, where cars sent by the Order were awaiting us.
“Yeah, things are spiralling out of control,” stated Brenda, who always showed up at the ‘right moment’ to rub it in. I glared at her and silently trotted to the exit.
The entire ride to the De Manshand castle, Sabrina and I played the quiet game. I stared blankly out the window, struck from time to time with pangs of remorse. We were lucky—France greeted us with beautiful sunny weather.
“They say September is going to be unusually warm this year,” Brenda broke the silence. “The weather forecast for your wedding day is also looking good.”
I heard Sabrina heave a sigh in reply to Brenda’s comment. I didn’t turn my head either and kept staring out the window. Brenda was right. The weather was glorious. Rays of golden sunshine were making its way through the red, yellow, and, in places, still green trees, dancing on the brown grass, scorched by the summer heat. Nature was valiantly sharing its beauty with us, but this mesmerizing sight only deepened the sorrow in my heart. What am I doing? What’s happening to me?
“Nearly there!” Brenda said cheerfully, apparently still keen to lighten up everyone’s mood.
I stole a glance at Sabrina, who was still silent and oblivious to everything around her. I looked out the window again and was stunned to see a line of parked cars stretching from that point all the way to the castle gates.
“Holy crap,” I muttered, swallowing a lump in my throat. The gates stood wide open, letting our car drive through to the inner courtyard. I clambered out of the car and looked around. Where did all these people come from? Who are they?
“Eric!” Sabrina’s cry made me turn around quickly. She rushed toward the castle steps and literally threw herself into the arms of a young man in dark sunglasses. The man gave her a tight hug and laughed.
“God, Sabi, sis! I’ve missed you so much! You look stunning! Absolutely stunning!” Eric was beaming, his wide grin revealing a pair of the habitual sharp fangs. “How are the happy bride and her hopeless groom doing?”
“We’re fine. But right now, I hate him,” Sabrina declared, shooting me an icy look. “He’s driving me crazy!” She turned back around, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed her brother on the cheek. “I’ve missed you too,” she added, then let go of him and disappeared through the imposing, medieval castle door.
“Same old, same old, huh? What is it this time?” Eric the-now-vampire asked, clearly amused. “Good to see you, by the way.”
“Likewise,” I replied, clapping Eric on the shoulder. Finally, I was reunited with my best friend, my partner in crime, my rock, who I knew wouldn’t lecture me or preach proper etiquette. The friend I’ve been missing so this past year. “What the hell are you doing out in the sunshine? You can barely see anything during the day.”
“Because I’d rather be out in the sun than inside, with Derek running around like a headless chicken, trying to make everything ‘perfect’. Can’t take this anymore!” Eric grumbled.
“Derek’s here?”
“You bet! And he’s been driving us all nuts for days now. And it’s not just him… So, what’s up with you two?” he deflected, sitting down on the wide marble slab at the bottom of the steps running up to the castle doors.
“Eric, is that… a ponytail?” I asked, eyeing my friend’s new hairstyle in disbelief.
“Renee thinks it suits me,” the vampire smirked and rummaged around in his hoodie pocket for a pack of cigarettes. “Old habits die hard, right?”
“Weird to see a vampire smoke. But then again, Derek managed to get plastered, so I guess nothing surprises me anymore,” I said, sitting down next to Eric.
“At least I won’t die of lung cancer,” Eric chuckled, handing me a cigarette. “So, what happened? Second-guessing the whole getting married thing amidst all the chaos, and she realised that?” Eric persisted, glancing at a party of newly arrived guests making their way in – people that we were seeing for the first and, likely, last time in our lives.
“How do I put this? You know your sister hates it when I voice my dissatisfaction, also known as opinion.”
“That’s her signature stance. But sometimes, brother, you’ve got to put her in her place.”
I smirked, remembering how Eric used to tease Sabrina back when he was still human and living in New Orleans. Ah, those were fun times!
“You’ve spoiled her,” Eric concluded, taking a drag on his cigarette.
“Oh my God, Jackie! I’m so happy to see you!” boomed someone on my left. I jumped up in surprise and turned my head, but no one was there. “What a wonderful occasion!
Your wedding! I can hardly believe it! Are you excited?”
Now the voice came from my right. What the hell was going on?
“Endlessly,” I replied to the invisible speaker. “Though I’d love to know who I’m talking to.”
“It’s me, Stella, a relative of Sabrina’s,” the voice chimed in cheerfully from somewhere above me. “I lived in the twenties of the last century, but that’s not important! Just look at how many people have come! And it’s only noon!”
For a moment, the air around me sort of rippled and shimmered, and I could make out the faint silhouette of a woman in a simple, flowing beaded dress.
“So much to do! See you later, boys!” the phantom made a kissing sound and vanished, leaving behind only a light breeze.
“For a ghost, she’s way too lively,” Eric muttered. “Let’s head inside, buddy! And smile! The day after tomorrow, you’ll be married! And to whom? My own sister!
Never thought I’d live to see the day!” Eric clapped me on the shoulder and let out a raucous laugh. I forced a crooked smile and trudged after him.
We entered the main hall with the grand fireplace, also known as the “Crimson Room.”
Inside, there was complete aesthetic chaos. Everywhere you looked, there were huge vases with hydrangeas and roses in pastel pink and beige. The flowers were everywhere: on the floor, as if growing out of the soft pile crimson carpet; on the massive antique table; and even on the tall chairs. The sweet fragrance filled the entire room, mingling with the scent of old wood and history. To the left, on a small, gilded bench upholstered in crimson satin, were sitting the ghosts of Alex and Vivienne, my grandfather and the first witch of the De Manshand clann. The ghosts were whispering to each other and exchanging furtive glances.
“Did I not make myself clear enough zat we still need peonies and lots of greenery?
The keyword is lots, Derek! And I also requested carnations for ze ballroom. And what did you bring? Roses and hydrangeas!” came a high-pitched female voice with a subtle French accent. I couldn’t see the speakers, as they were in the adjacent hallway, but judging by the woman’s tone, we arrived just in time for the start of a heated argument.
“And I think roses and light blue hydrangeas will look far more dramatic when reflected in the tall mirrors. Carnations don’t belong here at all! But if you insist, we can add some deeper shades,” retorted the familiar, irritated voice of our prodigal designer.
“Derek! Don’t push me!” the woman snapped back resolutely, stepping into the drawing room. Before us stood a petite young woman with chestnut hair styled in an intricate updo. Her skin was pale, and her deep brown eyes, framed by thick lashes, were sending sparks flying in every direction. She ran a slender hand through her hair and tilted her head slightly in resignation.
“Alright, we’ll figure something out,” she mused, before finally noticing Eric and me.
“Mr. Cornell! Finally! I was starting to think Eric was keeping you away from us on purpose,” the stranger chirped, flashing a friendly smile that revealed a pair of sharp, perfectly shaped pearl-white fangs.
I was genuinely surprised by the turn of events. Never before had I met such a charming-looking vampire. And, judging by her demeanor, even she seemed annoyed with Derek today, meaning I needed to make quite an impression on this delightful lady—and fast.
“My name is Angelica Timmons,” my new acquaintance introduced herself, extending her hand in greeting.
“You must be Felix’s wife?”
“Exactement,” Angelica replied in her native tongue, smiling still. “Jack, I understand that most men don’t care about festive decor. Trust me when I say it… centuries may change, but men never do. And yet… What do you think?”
“I back your choice fully! Carnations should look perfect here,” I assured her and paused, involuntarily recalling the events that took place in this very ballroom only last year.
Eric tugged at my sleeve and gestured for me to look at the door, through which appeared the familiar head, adorned with dishevelled hair to which a multi-colored shoelace was attached.
“Carnations are so last century,” Derek grumbled, stepping into full view.
“Your suit is last century!” Angelica retorted teasingly. “What flea market even sells zis stuff anymore?”
“I bought it in the early forties, in Glasgow, Scotland. But that’s not the point. Cornell, are you for real about the carnations? Weren’t you the one telling us you couldn’t care less about wedding preparations and wedding theme?”
He was right, of course. Awkward. I scratched the back of my head and looked Derek straight in the eye, nodding silently.
“You disappointed me, Cornell,” Derek said pompously. “And by the way, roses are known for their vibration-raising and space-cleansing frequency.”
“For what?”
“Roses can purify the energetic field, also known as aura. You know – that invisible thing around them that all living humans have? Except you, buddy. You live shrouded in thick nicotine fog.”
“Well, then keep your nose out of my fog, go sniff some flowers, cleanse your chakras, and leave me alone!” I snapped.
Derek shot me an angry glance but didn’t argue further.
“I’ll go ask Sabrina if she liked the dress,” he changed the subject, casting another pitiful look at the hydrangeas that Angélique started removing from the vases to make space for carnations. With a theatrical roll of his eyes, he left the hall.
“Poor guy. He’s having a tough time,” Vivienne murmured with a gentle smile.
“Believe me, sometimes you just have to tell him to stop. Otherwise, trying to do everything at once, he’ll either accomplish nothing or create complete chaos… You should have seen what he had got himself into in the early seventies of the last century,” Angelica giggled, carefully tying a ribbon around a flower bouquet.
I tried to match the festive atmosphere, beaming smiles left and right and shaking hands with constantly arriving guests whom I’d never seen before in my life. Everyone rushed to congratulate me on this marvellous, life-changing occasion, inevitably asking where my better half was hiding. Each time I would just shrug innocently and blame her absence on the hectic last-minute preparations. Though, in truth, I had no idea where my beloved had disappeared to.
Lost in gloomy thought, I wandered through the long corridors of the old castle, mentally rehearsing the upcoming conversation with my bride.The longer I tried to focus, the heavier my heart felt. I didn’t know how long I had spent wandering around, but it seemed like eternity. Suddenly, I came across a tall oak door with a heraldic lily carved into it. I grabbed the gilded door handle and found the door unlocked. A moment later, I was in a spacious, dimly lit library. Wooden shelves laden with antique books were faintly illuminated by the twilight streaming through the tall French windows.
I stepped out into the garden, passed a small decorative fountain and sat down on an ornate cast iron bench, hidden from view by the thick branches of an old pine tree. I lit a cigarette. Memories of my first visit to the castle flooded my weary mind.
Last year when we left Eric here and flew back home to New Orleans, I was genuinely hoping to never return to this cursed place. And yet, despite all the promises I’d given myself, I ended up caving in to Sabrina’s and my parents’ relentless pleas to have the wedding here. What the hell was I thinking?
“Hi, Jack,” a soft voice came from the direction of the library. I turned to face Angelica. She smiled gently, stepping into the garden. “Escaping the chaos?” she sank gracefully on the bench next to me.
“Honestly, I’d been tired of all this long before we even got here,” I muttered, resting my head in my hands.
“This isn’t what you wanted, is it? It’s written all over your face. And Eric’s not too thrilled either, although he’s crazy keen to find out what the cake tastes like.”
“You know, Angelica, I just wanted us to get married. At home, by the Mississippi. No crowd, no pomp and fuss. Neither me nor Eric can remember any one of these ‘guests’, because we never met them before! And – surprise, surprise – my parents seem to know everyone,” I sighed heavily and looked at my companion, who seemed lost in deep thought.
“You really don’t know anyone?”
“My bosses don’t count.”
“Over a hundred people,” Angelica said thoughtfully.
“What?” I could not believe my ears. “Good Lord, where did they all come from? Did Derek hire film extras to make everything look exactly how he had envisioned it?”
“And that’s not counting the ghosts of the long-deceased relatives who simply couldn’t stay away.”
“Holy hell,” I mumbled, dropping my head back into my hands. Yeah, I’m going to need a miracle to get through the next two days.
“Seems like I really hurt Sabrina this time.”
“Then maybe you should apologize?” Angelica smiled.
“Simple as that?”
“Trust me, I know,” the vampiress nodded, standing up from the bench. “In our three hundred and four years of marriage, Felix and I have been through so much that you mortals would be needing a live-in mental health specialist.”
“Three hundred and four years?”
“Yes. Quite a lot, isn’t it?”
“How do you do it?”
“Jack, are you doubting your choice?” Angelica asked suddenly, her gaze riveting me to the spot. I froze for a moment, the painful memories of last year resurfacing once more.
“No, not at all,” I replied firmly.
“Then you should apologize and leave the past behind. The day after tomorrow is a big day. You shouldn’t start a new life with a heavy heart.”
“You’re right. I’ll talk to her right away.”
“Just think carefully what you’re going to say. It’s more important now than ever,”
Angélique whispered, then smiled warmly and disappeared into the shadows of the shaggy pines.
After a moment’s hesitation, I walked around the fountain and onto a narrow path that wound its way between the fluffy fir trees. Soon, I emerged onto a big lawn that housed elegant, ornate gazebos, adorned with white chiffon and fresh flower garlands. At the farther end of the lawn, away from a small stage, my father was sitting on a white limewash Chiavari chair. He was chatting animatedly with a woman I didn’t recognize and laughing loudly. Trying not to draw their attention, I quickly turned around and headed toward the castle’s main entrance. I had barely made a few steps when I nearly ran into the pensive Felix Timmons who suddenly appeared in front of me. He seemed oblivious to my presence, his eyes riveted on an old envelope with a dark wax seal that he was holding.
“Good evening, Felix,” I greeted my new acquaintance. “Did you just arrive? I haven’t seen you today.”
“Hello, Jack,” the vampire replied, raising his tired eyes to meet mine. “I was in Paris for an auction. Look what I bought,” he handed me a time-worn wax sealed envelope, and on the seal were peculiar lines, barely visible now, that looked to me like sun rays.
“It’s a royal seal,” Felix declared proudly. “Dating back to King Louis XIV’s court at Versailles.”
“So what’s so special about it?” I asked, out of politeness rather than interest.
“Look closer,” Felix said softly, his long, claw-like finger pointing at the perfectly preserved seal. I lifted the envelop to eye level and squinted at it in the dim light of a nearby lantern. I could now see the faint outlines of a smiling face styled as the sun sitting inside a rose.
“Wow! That’s the emblem of our Order!” Now it was me turning the strange envelope over in my hands and staring at it, puzzled. There was no address written on it – just a single word – or to be more precise, – a name.
“Why, Felix, curiosity won’t kill you!” I exclaimed, noticing that the envelope hadn’t been opened. “Don’t you want to know anything about this Armand guy?”
“You’re mistaken, my friend,” the vampire replied, pointing at the seal yet again. I followed his finger carefully and this time I noticed a small crack running through the center of the seal. Someone already broke it once to read the letter and then tried to stick the seal parts back together with glue.
“So, what’s it all about?” I asked, assuming it was Felix who had done it.
“No idea,” was his reply. “What interests me more is how the Order comes into all this, and what ties it could have had with the King or his court.”
“Well, that’s something to spice up your immortal existence. A bit of mystery to solve, huh? Now I’m curious too. Will you tell me when you find out?”
Felix ignored my question and pulled a gold ribbon-tied black velvet pouch from his pocket.
“You know, Jack, I’d be very grateful if you could deliver this letter and this ring to Monsieur Armel Dumourier. He’s arriving in Île-de-France tomorrow morning.” The vampire untied the pouch and produced an old-looking gold ring with a massive ruby in the center. “Just look at this symbol of power and grandeur! A totally unique piece of jewellery. A genuine masterpiece.”
“I’ll bet it was stolen from some cardinal…” I muttered under my breath.
“What?” Felix looked hesitant, clearly second-guessing his choice of trusted courier for the delivery of such a valuable item.
“Sorry, it’s just this ring evokes certain associations. You know, the ruby reminds me of a French cardinal’s hat… and I just can’t help but imagine one, with an arrogant, perpetually dissatisfied face, and his hand adorned with a ring like this one, stroking an equally dissatisfied cat while waiting to be bribed…”
I noticed Felix become slightly worried and suspicious at my rant.
“I mean, of course, I’ll deliver it,” I hastened to reassure him. “However… You’re the curator of the ancient letters department. Shouldn’t you be handling such ‘correspondence’ yourself? And who is this Dumourier anyway?”
“You see, Jack, the reign of Louis XIV is a rather controversial and ambiguous period in French history. The letter itself isn’t that important. But if my hunch about this ring is correct, we might make another groundbreaking discovery.”
“I don’t mean to sound like a bore, but, coming back to my question – why can’t you deliver this to him yourself? And… who is he, really?”
“He’s one of the leading experts on French history and has been studying the legend of the mysterious ruby Psyche for many years.”
“What does this ruby look like then?” I asked, examining the ring again. “Do you think this could be it? I remember reading something about it, but honestly, I can’t remember the details now.”
“Ah, Jack, I so wish I could answer all your questions. But alas, it’s beyond my power.
All I can say is: for as long as I can remember, the hunt for Psyche has been ongoing.
Why? That is the question, my friend! Perhaps, Armel knows and might shed some light on this mystery for us.”
“And you?”
“I won’t be at your wedding, as I must leave for Rome immediately. The matter can’t wait. In fact, I came here to deliver the envelope and the ring to Armel myself, but as it turns out, his flight has been rescheduled for next morning. Angelica is busy with wedding preparations, and keeping Derek’s creative juices in check, so I didn’t dare approach her with this. So, Jack, I want to apologize for not being able to attend such an important day for you and Sabrina. Nevertheless, please accept my best wishes. And once again, I ask for your forgiveness.”
“No problem. You can count on me,”
The vampire nodded to me curtly and turned to go, but hardly made a few steps before stopping suddenly.
“And, Jack,” he added, “make sure the ring doesn’t end up in Brenda’s hands.”
I smirked. Everyone knew Brenda was a trouble magnet. She couldn’t leave the house without falling into some sort of adventure, mostly unpleasant. I turned around and rushed back to the castle. Ahead of me lay a conversation with my future wife, who has been more distant today than ever, and not even trying her usual tricks of ‘accidentally’ running into to start an argument. Usually, she would try to appear extremely hurt over my actions and make me go crazy with guilt. I have learnt now to keep my cool and ignore her antics. But in the end, I always cave in to her mind games and start apologizing, causing yet more tears and complaints that I don’t love her and like to drive her to hysterics. She would eventually accept my pleas and promises to do better in future and would be all hugs and smiles again – for a few peaceful days. Today, however, we seemed to have set a new record in not talking to each other. I haven’t even glimpsed her once since this morning, when she told Eric I was annoying her. But, as Angélique rightly said, I needed to pull myself together and leave all grievances behind.
I had to talk to Sabrina.
I put the letter and the ring into my jeans pocket, gathered what little willpower I had left, climbed the massive staircase, and set off in search of my bride.
“You’re not lost, handsome, are you?” a playful voice came from somewhere on my right. I turned around, but no one was there. “Definitely lost,” the same voice now sounded in front of me.
The air shimmered and sort of rippled, and there appeared in front of me a slender silhouette of Stella in her vintage, embroidered, beaded beige dress. The phantom was lounging on a small sofa, its legs elegantly crossed, a glass of Martini in the ghostly hand, as transparent and shimmering as the phantom itself. I shot Stella a sideways glance and walked on, not thinking it the best time to socialise.
“Ah, how I loved parties,” Stella sang thoughtfully, suddenly appearing beside me.
“Where are you off to? Maybe you’ll keep me company?”
“I’m looking for Sabrina,” I replied quietly, trying to make it clear I wasn’t in the mood for conversation, let alone drinks.
“Oh, Jackie, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you! You’ll survive one night without her,” Stella drawled, taking another ‘sip’ from her transparent glass.
“What was that?” I asked, not getting her point.
“She’s talking about the old tradition of not seeing the bride before the ceremony,”
Alex’s ghost interjected, suddenly materializing before us.
“Oh! Mr. Venters! Punctual as ever! I’m already on my last legs!” Stella giggled and dissolved into the air like a wisp of smoke.
“Can you imagine how much idle noise that lady made in her lifetime?” Old Venters grinned at me warmly. “You could use some sleep, Jack. The day after tomorrow is a big day, and you look terrible.”
“I promise to shave. And I’ve got all of tomorrow still,” I muttered, forcing a pathetic smile. “Have you seen her?”
“She’s in the farthest bedroom. But you can’t go in there! Respect an old tradition, Jack.
The groom and bride must spend the night before the wedding apart,” Alex preached.
“One night, not two. Remind me about this tomorrow,” I said calmly.
“She’s been asking about you.”
“I have hurt her today. Any advice?”
“Sometimes you have to swallow your pride and make the first move. She loves you very much and has been waiting all day,” Alex encouraged me. “You know whose blood runs in Sabrina’s veins. Accept it and go to her. She’s too proud to admit she’s wrong.”
“That’s exactly what my problem with her is,” I muttered and walked over to the door Alex had pointed to. I knocked gingerly.
There was no answer. I assumed Sabrina was already asleep, but I turned the gilded handle anyway. To my surprise, the door was unlocked. I peeked inside, hesitating to enter. My princess’s chambers were in complete disarray: on the enormous bed, covered by a gold-threaded brocade throw, were scattered elegant mother-of-pearl hairpins. Scraps of white tulle, silk ribbons, and vintage lace were everywhere.
“I think the veil might not be necessary,” Angelica’s melodic voice came from somewhere on my left. I turned and saw a tall white intricately carved wooden door that was ajar. That was enough for me to peek inside without being seen.
What I saw took my breath away. Sabrina stood on a small wooden podium in the middle of a brightly lit boudoir. She was wearing a luxurious white corseted dress, its bodice lavishly embroidered with pearls. The dress seemed to hug her delicate figure, accentuating the slender waist and all the right curves. She casually ran her hand over the folds of the long skirt which flowed into a dramatic lace-trimmed train. From the side, she looked like a weightless porcelain doll, and I instinctively leaned forward for a closer look. I had to give Derek credit—he really knew how to sew.
“The most important thing is to ensure no one steps on the train. Or the dress – and the wedding – will be ruined,” my future wife sang in delight.
“And I think the veil is a must,” Derek retorted. “But it should be very long. We’ll have to make some adjustments. There’s still time.”
I was so absorbed in eyeing Sabrina in her fairy-tale gown, hidden behind the boudoir door, that I didn’t hear another door creak open behind me, and someone else enter the room. That someone else was the person who always showed up at the worst possible moment.
“Jack! What are you doing in here? You’re spying!” Brenda shrieked, dropping a box of white high heel shoes on the floor and lunging straight at me. Instinctively, I stepped forward and tried to clamp my hand over Brenda’s annoying mouth, but it was too late, of course. Apparently, Brenda decided to put up a fight. She pulled at my zip-up hoodie, desperately trying to shove me out of the room. Silently, I unzipped it and literally slipped out of Brenda’s clutch. She staggered, losing her balance, and fell on the floor. I smirked, reaching down to help her up, but she lunged at me again.
Hearing the commotion, Derek rushed out of the boudoir and froze on the spot. Then he closed his eyes, cursed loudly, and pulled the furious Brenda away from me.
“He saw the dress!” she screeched again, kicking and thrashing, trying to break free from the vampire’s iron grip.
“Brenda, chill,” I said as calmly as I could, though I was fuming on the inside. “Why are you so worked up? It’s not like it’s your dress I saw!”
“Don’t you know it’s bad luck if the groom sees the bride’s gown before the wedding?”
Derek cut in coolly, still trying to contain his companion. “Brenda, enough!”
“Oh, come on! What kind of silly superstition is that?”
“The kind that’s a really bad omen!” Derek grumbled. “Brenda! Calm down already!”
My poor nerves, which I’d been trying to keep in check this whole insane day, finally snapped, unleashing all the anger and frustration that had been building up inside me over the past month. I turned on my heal and forcefully flung open the boudoir door.
Sabrina was sitting on a small pouf, drowning in a sea of lace and organza. She was shaking with indignation and surprise. Suddenly, she started pulling delicate mother-of-pear hairpins from her hair. Behind her stood a bewildered Angelica.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Derek mouthed, leaning over Sabrina.
“Be wise, don’t make any mistakes,” Angelica whispered, then the pair of them left the boudoir, firmly shutting the door behind them.
I took a deep breath, waiting for Sabrina to lash out at me, also known as initiate the conversation. To my surprise, she didn’t. She continued to remain silent, burning holes in me with her deep blue eyes full of tears and resentment.
“If that’s how it is, may I begin then. Firstly, I don’t believe in silly omens and superstitions invented for innocent maidens who faint at the sight of a dead fly.
Secondly, I did knock before entering. Thirdly… I just wanted to apologize and say that I don’t want our married life to start with resentment and scandals. I love you, despite all your ridiculous antics. And forgive me, sunshine, but you’ve got the most infuriating personality. I love you still. And the day after tomorrow, unless you buy into all that omen nonsense spouted by the crazy duo and don’t change your mind—which I’m still hoping for—I’ll repeat it before God. And before the entire crowd of those strangers!
I’ll smile dutifully, shake everyone’s hands, and shower them with thanks for their congratulations and gifts. Although you know perfectly well how much that annoys me! I always want you to be happy. Even if you’re hating me right now.”
Sabrina remained silent, struggling to hold back tears, gripping the hairpins so tightly that her knuckles turned white. I waited a few minutes, expecting her to lunge at me and try to stab me with a hairpin, but none of that happened. She closed her eyes, letting a tear roll down her lashes. That single tear pierced my heart like a knife. I couldn’t say another word. Hastily, I left the boudoir, leaving Sabrina tête-à-tête with her grief and pride.
I wanted to strangle that omnipresent Brenda for showing up at the worst time to ruin the moment for me, and, potentially, my entire future life with Sabrina. But where was she now that I needed to scold her? Brenda was only where she was not welcome or needed! And now that she had done her ‘duty’, she disappeared. Could this day have gone any worse? What Gods had I angered? Because I must have done. Feeling completely drained, I headed to my room, escorted by a subdued Angélique.
“What are my chances of a happy ending?” I asked the vampiress gloomily. Angelica paused for a moment, then shook her head sadly.
“You did the right thing, Jack. That’s my opinion. If you truly matter to her, she’ll listen to her heart. And don’t pay attention to any nonsense. I’ll have a little chat with Brenda. Derek’s hopeless—he’s always on the edge. But you – you need a rest right now,” Angelica smiled gently and headed away from me toward the grand staircase.
I pushed open the heavy oak door and disappeared into the welcoming coolness and darkness of my chamber, illuminated only by the moonlight. The image of the slender girl in her poufy wedding dress reappeared in my mind. Before that wicked witch Brenda popped up in the room, I could have sworn I had glimpsed a sparkle of happiness in my bride’s eyes. My heart still heavy, I took off my T-shirt, pulled the envelope and the pouch with the ring from my pocket and placed them on a small table by the window. On the table – I now noticed – stood a tall decanter half-full of deep amber-colored liquid, which, upon closer inspection, turned out to be proper vintage cognac, and two glasses. I poured myself a glass, took a few sips, lit a cigarette and sank heavily onto my bed.
My life was changing rapidly, and not for the better. Cursing everything under the sun, I closed my eyes, plunging into impenetrable darkness, a darkness that now seemed to symbolise my entire existence. I tried not to think about the upcoming two days, for they promised to be fine fun for everyone, except for myself.
My gloomy thoughts were interrupted by the soft creaking of the opening door.
Someone entered the room and stood there, hesitating, waiting. After what felt like an eternity, my eyes still shut, I heard light footsteps approaching.
Someone stopped by the bed, then sat down beside me gingerly. The next moment I was aware of a gentle kiss being planted on my unshaven cheek, and the familiar tender fingertips ran through my tangled hair.
“I love you too,” whispered the dear voice in my ear. “And my temper really is awful.”
“Hey! You’re here…What about that old tradition? The bad omen thing?”
“I’m a witch, remember? Omens don’t bother me. What could possibly happen?”
Sabrina chuckled softly. “Let’s not fight anymore. I’m so tired of it. Plus, I’ll need to get up super early and sneak back to my room before anyone discovers I spent the night with you.”
“My devious goddess,” I muttered, pulling her closer.
Well, maybe I was wrong, and all was not so bad after all. Destiny, it seemed, decided to remind me that there was still light at the end of the tunnel. And tomorrow morning… Tomorrow morning, we shall start with a clean slate. And I hope the wedding goes without a hitch. Here’s to no more drama and hysterics!