“Burns, doesn’t it, demon?”
“Not really.” I gritted my teeth. “But this probably will.”
I brought my knee up sharply against his groin. He screamed, doubled over, and I heard the cross clatter to the dance floor. I rubbed my bruised cheek and collapsed to my knees next to George. I foggily registered that everyone at the reception was collectively screaming and running for the exits.
“George!” I pushed his long hair off his forehead. “George, sweetie. Are you okay? Talk to me!”
George stared glassy-eyed at the ceiling. “Ow.”
I forced myself to look at the stake. It was surrounded by a dark red, wet patch on his cream-colored shirt. I studied it for a moment. “The stake isn’t in your heart; it’s mostly in your shoulder. You have to be staked in your heart to die, right? You must have moved just in time.” I let out the breath I hadn’t even known I’d been holding. “That’s good, right?”
George turned his head and blinked up at me. “Ow.”
I shook my head. “Your shirt is definitely ruined, though. Was it real silk?”
He shifted his gaze to behind me, then made an attempt to get up but failed. “Ow,” he said again and pointed weakly.
I turned. The reverend was rising to his feet with an expression of unadulterated hatred on his face. Crushed groin or no crushed groin, he was going to tear me apart with his bare hands. And by what I could see of the reception hall, there was nobody left to help me.
With one hand against George, I held the other up to try to stop him as he staggered toward me. Good luck there. I heard a loud crash and the reverend stopped in his tracks. His eyes glazed over and he fell to his knees, then face forward down to the floor, his head ending up mere inches away from me. I looked up with wide eyes. Thierry stood behind him, holding the remnants of a broken wine bottle.
George looked up at him. “Ow.”
I couldn’t speak, so I just stared at him with probably a very stupid look on my face.
“So”—Thierry turned around to glance at the empty reception hall—“was it a nice wedding?”
I swallowed. “Lovely. You should have been here.”
He crouched down and raised a dark eyebrow at George. “Brace yourself. This will hurt.”
George was about to protest, but Thierry gripped the wooden stake and pulled it straight out of his chest before he could. It made a sickening smuck sound. George shouted out some swear words I’d actually never heard before. I added them to my vocabulary as I watched the blood gush from his wound. I knew I should be completely grossed out, but my stomach actually growled with hunger at the sight of it. I decided to keep this disturbing revelation to myself.
“Will he be okay?” I asked.
“Yes.” Thierry tossed the bloody stake off to the side. “In time.”
I glanced over at the reverend. “Is he… is he…”
“Dead?” Thierry finished for me. “No.”
He pulled a cell phone from his inside jacket pocket and called the police, who showed up ten minutes later. After speaking privately with Thierry, they handcuffed the slightly conscious reverend and took him away as the wedding guests milled about.
“What did you say to them?” I asked.
“You needn’t concern yourself with that.” He had George on his feet and was helping him to the door.
“Thierry,” I called to him. He turned around, letting George lean against him for support.
“Why are you here, anyhow? George said that you sent him because you were too busy.
Not that I expected anyone to come after… well, after our little discussion the other day.”
He took a deep inhale of breath. “Are you telling me I shouldn’t have come?”
“No, I’m not saying that. In fact, talk about perfect timing. It’s just… George told me you were busy because there was another hunter attack. Did they”—I swallowed hard—“kill anybody?”
“Happily, no one was injured in their last attack; however, another of my clubs has been damaged enough for me to shut it down.” He met my gaze, then looked away. “I simply felt that you needed me.”
I waited for further explanation, but there was nothing. “Are you heading back to Toronto now?”
He shook his head. “George is not well enough for a long car ride. We will pick you up tomorrow morning at eight. Please be ready. Unless, perhaps, you were planning on staying here longer?”
“No, no. I’ll be ready.”
He continued toward the door.
“Thierry,” I called again. He stopped walking, but he didn’t turn around. “Um… thanks.”
He left without another sound, except for a last gasp of pain from George as he hit the door frame. Abottsville is well known for its narrow doors.
I went outside to watch Missy and Richard leave for their honeymoon. A little anticlimactic now, but it would do. I heard the murmurings of the crowd as they talked about Reverend Micholby finally going off the deep end—an event that apparently had been predicted for years. Why didn’t that make me feel any better?
Missy gave me a quick hug.
“You’re going to be okay,” she told me.
I nodded, but I knew she was lying to make me feel better. “Yeah, sure I will be. Us bloodsucking monsters always land on our feet.”
She opened her mouth to say something else, but I stopped her.
“You’ll be okay, too.” I smiled at her. “Richard’s a keeper.”
She nodded, and Richard winked at me from inside the limo. Missy got in and the door closed behind them. Nobody had any rice or confetti, so we all just waved good-bye.
Attached to the back of the limo was a sign in the shape of a red heart with two suspicious-looking puncture marks. It read TILL DEATH DO US PART HAS A WHOLE NEW MEANING. RICHARD + MISSY FOREVER.
Funny. Then why wasn’t I laughing? I tried to swallow the big lump in my throat as I watched them drive away.
Mom insisted that I stay in my old room at the house. This was my second night tucked snug as a bug in a rug in my single bed with the frilly pink canopy. I stared at my old Madonna poster for a very long time. I used to want to be Madonna. Instead, I just became a “Material Girl.” I guess it all worked out. There were lots of signs of the “me who used to be” scattered around the room. My old diaries tucked in their secret hiding places, my old teddy bear without any eyes because I gnawed them off in my sleep. I guess I had an oral fixation even as a kid. In my closet were all the clothes I’d bought with every last cent of my McDonald’s pay. Not much different from now. Spending all my money on frivolous things. Pretty things to make me feel better. To make me feel special. What a joke.
It wasn’t even midnight yet, the wedding reception having wrapped up earlier than originally planned. I kicked around in the sheets for a while, but I wasn’t tired. I figured that I’d read the issue of Cosmopolitan I’d brought with me until I got sleepy. I slid out of bed. I was wearing my Rollerskating Mama nightshirt. Very retro. I sat down at my little vanity, where I used to dream about becoming a grown-up. I’d apply the makeup I’d stolen from Mom’s bathroom drawer and imagine being a world-famous model, or actress, or flight attendant. Any of the above would have done just fine.
Little did I know back then that I would never amount to more than a senior executive assistant. And I wasn’t even that anymore. Yes, I was feeling sorry for myself—what else was new? The worst thing about sitting at my childhood vanity was seeing that my reflection was now completely and utterly gone. Kaput. I’d never get used to that. Out of absolutely everything that sucked about being a vampire, not having a reflection was the thing that sucked the hardest. Material Girls should be able to see themselves in mirrors. That was just a given. But it was over. I may as well stop wearing makeup altogether. What was the point anymore?
Okay, I knew it wasn’t just the lack of reflection that started the tears flowing down my cheeks. It was everything that had been happening—the mirror was just the proverbial straw on the camel’s back. I hated everything about being a vampire, and the list was getting longer by the day. And the cure that Richard had talked about? I was sure that was just another lump of bullshit to add to my already-full bullshit collection. So, being that I was all alone, in the room that had been filled with so many optimistic, wonderful dreams of my imaginary future, I allowed myself to cry like the little girl who used to live there. May she rest in peace.