Page 118 of Winter Lost

I yawned and nodded. His version was shorter and better worded than mine was. “Been ten minutes,” I mumbled. “I’d better get up—”

He kissed me and tucked the covers around me. “Nope. Sleep. I’ll be your proxy.”

—

We gathered for the wedding just before dawn. There were still clouds in the sky, but they were softer clouds, lit by the glow of the moon. The wind was light and the snow had stopped entirely.

The bride’s dress was white trimmed in silvery lace. Rather than play down her firm muscles, the gown’s bare-shoulder-tight-to-the-waist silhouette showed off her strength. I could tell it was expensive because it also made her look delicate. And Tammy was tough because, although the storm was over, it was December in Montana and we were all outside standing beside the hot tubs. She had gooseflesh on her gooseflesh.

I’d assumed that we’d hold the wedding in front of the fireplace, where backless gowns would have been more comfortable. But the divine spirit of the lake was an important part of the magic, and no one could converse with her to make sure she could come inside the building. Liam assured us that it would be enough to hold the ceremony by the side of her lake, because that was holy ground.

In solidarity, the groom did not wear a jacket over his silver silk shirt. All of his clothes were borrowed from Liam, so the shirt was tight in the shoulders and the pants were about six inches too long. Zane was my height, a couple of inches shorter than Tammy. I hadn’t noticed it until they stood together.

The storm had gone, but it had left feet of snow everywhere as a calling card. We had decorated around the snow with fairy lights (the mundane kind) and set floating candles in the hot tubs.

The bride’s father and his pack wore their dress uniforms. In the light of the lodge, the police uniforms were deep blue, but out here beside the lake they looked black. Elyna had chosen a dress of the same navy blue with gold trim. The cold bothered her not at all. Jack wore a suit that looked black—but was probably the same deep blue that all of the bride’s family wore. He carried his gun in a shoulder holster under the jacket—I could see the outline when he moved. Chicago in the 1920s had been a haven to gangsters and whatnot, but I hadn’t thought an architect would feel the need to carry a gun.

I had thanked Jack as soon as he showed up a few hours ago. Adam told me that Jack was the one who’d made sure Adam had seen Garmr attacking me in the woods. Elyna’s dead husband had given me a grin, told me that turnabout was fair play, and brushed it off.

I thought that I was the only one who could see him until I saw that Peter, talking quietly with Elyna, kept giving Jack a side-eye glance. As if he couldn’t quite see that there was someone standing behind her, but kept getting glimpses out of the corner of his eye. I wondered, not for the first time or the twentieth time, exactly what I’d done to Jack.

The blues of Tammy’s people might look black in the predawn darkness, but the same was not true of the groom’s family. Standing on the groom’s side, Dylis wore a long ethereal dress that was the exact color of her eyes—and her son’s eyes. The brighter blue caught the reflection of the tiny lights in the tub, giving the dress an ombré effect. Andrew’s suit was a gray pinstripe.

The rest of us, Adam, Emily, and I, wore blue, too. Blue jeans.

Emily paired hers with a creamy white sweater that glowed against her skin and looked thick enough to keep her warm even in the subfreezing temperatures. Her eyes were a bit red and puffy. I’m not sure she had believed my explanation of exactly what Hugo was, even with Liam’s corroboration that such a thing was possible. She’d been stiff and uncomfortable with me when I’d pitched in to help decorate for the wedding.

But it wouldn’t matter what she thought in the end. After a few days she would forget. Because Hugo was Garmr, and Garmr was the center of the Great Spell, even if he wasn’t the heart of the wedding.

Like Emily, Adam and I wore our blue jeans, because we didn’t have anything else to wear. His shirt was a deep green button-down that dressed up his jeans almost enough for a wedding.

I, on the other hand, did not look like a wedding guest in my overly long jeans and Adam’s sweatshirt. I hadn’t been able to find anything better in the box of spare clothes because I hadn’t had time to restock it after the last moon hunt. I covered myself up as best I could with Adam’s coat, my own having been shredded with my last pair of jeans in the fight with Garmr.

“We have the bride and the groom,” Liam said. “The bride’s family and the groom’s family. We need witnesses. The first is the spirit of this lake, who is part of the holy ground we stand upon. We need two other witnesses.”

Zane said, “I left my handpicked men behind rather than risking their deaths in the storm. I need a caretaker. The caretaker is usually a healer, one who has made sacrifices for their families, their friends, and complete strangers. Empathetic and kind.”

Liam smiled. “The Great Spell provides. Emily, whose people have visited this place since time immemorial, whose chosen field is healing. Would you stand as witness?”

She looked startled—and not a little hesitant. Tammy put a hand on her shoulder and whispered something I wasn’t supposed to hear. Emily nodded carefully, took a step forward. “I will.”

And something happened. I’m not sure exactly what, but I felt magic move and concentrate on her. My vision blurred a bit, and when I could see Emily again, she was dressed in a white doeskin tunic and leggings. She carried authority in her straight back and raised chin.

“The spirits of those who bore witness in the past have accepted you,” said Liam. “Come and stand here.” He directed her to a place behind him and on his right.

Zane said, “The third witness is the avenger. Fighter for justice. There is blood on his hands and fire in his heart. He brings the deaths of his prey without guilt, for his causes are righteous.”

Zane looked at Peter and his men. Peter, in turn, a thoughtful look on his face, turned to Elyna.

“I believe,” Peter said, “he is talking about you.”

She looked more like a high school prom queen than an avenger. Elyna raised an eyebrow at Peter. He took her hand and kissed it.

She freed herself, rolled her eyes, and looked at Zane—then hesitated, her eyes finding the faint light rising in the east.

“For this day,” Liam said, “the sun will not burn you, nightwalker though you are.”

She stared at him, lips parted. Then she shook her head slightly and turned to Zane. “I accept.”