Page 66 of My Big Fat Vampire Wedding

“Oh, uh, I think the average domestic lifespan is forty or fifty years.”

“Wow. Maybe I’ll get a bird instead of a dog. It would be nice to have something that you can have forever.”

Before they knew it, they were at the Tube. And with no other reason to keep walking, they went their separ­ate ways, promising to text once they’d cleared schedules with their families for the in-laws’ meeting.

They were both in agreement.

It was going to be an intimate affair.

Just both sets of parents.

Maybe at a nice restaurant.

At least, of course, that was the plan.

Until Ophelia got her nails into things …

18

“Oh, well, hello,” Pandora said as she opened her bedroom door to see a merle Pomeranian standing there like he was waiting for her. “I’m supposed to give you a treat, right?” she asked, reaching for the bag as the dog came rushing into her room, sniffing around.

“He’s a menace.” Vlad came flying into the room to land on his perch, getting a couple of halfhearted yips from the dog. “Just this evening, he ate your mother’s favorite shoe, played tug with some of the curtains, and used your father’s favorite walking stick as a chew toy.”

“I think he’s the puppy.” Pandora defended the dog, who was sniffing around the bed, likely never having seen one before.

“I suppose I am not one to judge. When I was fresh out of the egg, I used to sit outside the window of a ladywho’d had the temerity to shoo me off her feeder once and whisper to her.”

“What did you say?” Pandora asked as she bent to try to scoop up the puppy.

“‘I know your secrets, Martha. I saw what you did.’ Things like that.”

“You probably drove her mad.”

“Turns out, she’d killed her husband by putting poison in his stew. She turned herself in to the police after being ‘plagued by her conscience’.”

“You have led quite the interesting life,” Pandora said as she finally grabbed the puppy and started to carry him toward the door. “Oh, no. Did they cook again?” she asked, smelling something food-like wafting up from the lower level.

“Your aunt Ravenna said she has done a lot of research since the engagement party,” Vlad said, flying to land on Pandora’s shoulder as she walked out into the hall.

“I feel like I should be worried,” Pandora said.

“Might want to prepare for having to call the paramedics,” Vlad said before flying down the stairs ahead of her.

“Oh, there you are, my sweet Maxwell!” Aunt Henrietta called, arms out, snatching the puppy out of Pandora’s arms. “Oh, Mummy was so worried about you.”

Henrietta was a Rubenesque woman who, in fact, claimed to have been a model for several of Peter Paul Rubens’s paintings ‘in her day’. She was always dressed in absurd contrasts. That night, it was a green velvet Regency dress underneath a modern faux-fur leopard-­print jacket.

Her curly red hair was pulled back in a French braidand her face was covered in many layers of thick make-up, with false lashes, heavy eyeliner, and bright red lips.

As for shoes, the moment Henrietta had discovered rubber clogs, she’d outright refused to slip her feet into any other shoewear. She even had an entire piece of luggage full of the little charms you could put into the holes of the shoes.

Pandora fully expected Henrietta to wear something truly absurd to her wedding. Like a serving-wench dress from the Renaissance under a punk-style floor-length black leather jacket. And, of course, the rubber clogs.

“He will be the sweetest little ring-bearer – yes, he will,” Henrietta cooed at the dog as Pandora tried not to groan at the idea of sixteen little fluff balls with no sense of direction making their way down the aisle toward her.

“Pandora, my darling.” Ophelia descended the stairs. “That’s what you’re wearing?” She clucked her tongue at Pandora’s choice of an understated navy-blue corduroy skirt with a white blouse.

“I don’t want to make Mary and Robert uncomfortable if they aren’t dressed up,” Pandora said. “This is probably going to be a little overwhelming as a whole.”