Page 45

Even in the middle of the night, people tended to notice large groups of well-dressed people partying at The Palace of Fine Arts. The fact that no cops had come to roust us probably meant Clive had made some donations. As we had a ready supply of food and drink at The Slaughtered Lamb, though, we changed the venue.

Tables were moved to create a dance floor on one side of the bar. Clive and I swayed to Grim’s violin, while Owen and Audrey held down the bar. Apparently, in life, Audrey had an uncle who ran a pub. She’d helped out when she was quite young, before she’d gone into the lady’s maid biz. Owen was teaching her how to mix cocktails, but none of us could build a pint of Guinness with her expertise. I felt a twinge of guilt as Clive spun me around, a guest working, but she seemed to be having a ball.

“Leticia kept her isolated and smothered. Her life is finally her own again and she’s exploring. Let it go, Sam.” Clive kissed my temple and spun me back in the other direction.

Dave and Maggie pushed through the kitchen door, each holding a large platter weighed down with delicious smelling hors d’oeuvres. When Dave passed, I snagged two.

Godfrey came down the steps carrying a three-tiered wedding cake that was a work of art.

“Tell me you didn’t just steal that.” I didn’t want some poor couple to be cakeless at their wedding tomorrow.

He grinned and winked, saying nothing. I was just about to make him return it when Clive intervened.

“We have bakers in our community. I ordered this hours ago.” Chuckling, he pointed to the toppers. “Although I didn’t order those.” Instead of a traditional bride and groom, there was a scary, red-eyed vampire leaning over a wolf, howling at the moon.

Godfrey. It had to be.

“Again with no strippers?” The look of disgust on Medusa’s face as she hit the bottom step and surveyed the room was priceless. Shaking her head, she turned around and walked back up the steps, her oldest sister in her wake.

Only Stheno continued down into The Slaughtered Lamb. She gave me a wave and then sidled up next to Godfrey.

“Is that going to be a problem?” I had no idea about the love lives of the rest of the vamps. They were remarkably discreet.

“Hmm?” Clive followed my line of sight. “Not for me. Speaking of which, where is…ah. Excuse me, darling.” He gave me a quick kiss. “I need to speak with Russell.”

I moved to the side, leaned against the wall, and took it all in. This was the reopening we should have had. Friends crowding the bookstore and bar, the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses filled the air. I almost ducked behind the bar to help Owen and Audrey, but they seemed to be having so much fun, I didn’t want to mess it up. Clive was right. Audrey was finally living her life on her own terms, and tonight she wanted to learn how to mix cocktails.

Joy was new to me, and I wasn’t sure how to deal with it. All night I’d been bracing myself, waiting for the next shoe to drop, the next spell to be cast, and next attack to be launched, only to realize the danger had passed. For now. Of course, without the peril, Clive and I wouldn’t have started working together. If that memory I’d plucked from Leticia was correct, though, maybe we’d have ended up here anyway. Maybe.

Feeling suddenly off-kilter, I looked for Clive. My husband—I doubted I’d ever get used to that—was a master at getting me out of my head. I wished Martha could have been here, could have seen my place, met Clive. She understood that true love found a way. Whether it be between a wicche and an elf, or a vampire and a werewolf, it found a way.

Clive and Russell were locked in an intense conversation. Stoic Russell appeared angry. As I made my way across the crowded bar toward where they were speaking in the bookstore, Clive smiled and patted Russell on the shoulder. Russell inclined his head and walked away, almost bumping into me as I came through the doorway.

“Is everything all right?” I placed my hand on his forearm, stopping him.

“Of course, Miss—Mrs. Fitzwilliam.” His expression softened. “Best wishes to you both.” Leaning down, he kissed my cheek before heading up the stairs and out of The Slaughtered Lamb.

“Mrs. Fitzwilliam,” Clive echoed, “can I have this dance?”

“There’s no music.” Grim was taking a well-earned break and drinking a tankard of ale.

“In my head, there’s always music.” He led me back to the dance floor and pulled me into his arms. Humming, he swayed with me in the corner.

“Oh, husband mine, you’re keeping secrets.” Something was going on between him and Russell, and I didn’t like the look of it.

“Am I? How very like me. I have many secrets, you know. My own and others. For instance,” he whispered, his mouth dropping to my neck, “I know how you shiver when I do this.” His fangs glided down the column of my neck and I shivered uncontrollably. Stupid know-it-all vamp.

“Quit trying to distract me. What’s going on with Russell? He looked upset.”

“Did he? How very unlike him. He normally has an excellent poker face.” He kissed me again. “It’s nothing bad, my love. I didn’t wait a thousand years to marry just so everything could go back to the way it was. Lots of changes are coming. Russell needs to make peace with that.”

“Bad changes?” I thought about his expression as he’d spoken with Clive.

Clive laughed. “Only Russell would think so.” He spun me around when Grim began playing again. Lips at my ear, he added, “He’ll also have to make his peace with the nocturne calling him Sire.”

Shocked, I leaned back so I could see him clearly. “Now?”

Shaking his head and spinning me again, he said, “Soon. I need to clean up my own mess first. Now,” he said, tone changing, “how do you feel about beginning our trip in Paris?”