I was donning my best Stravian GASP suit, made entirely out of navy-blue silk, with golden thread details sewn onto the high collar and the sleeves. I’d been told to dress up, after all. Everyone else wore tuxedos and gorgeous gowns and dresses, elegant tunics and dark-colored costumes, with ascots and ties and all kinds of eye-catching accessories. At first, I’d thought it was my outfit that made me stick out. It wasn’t.
There were plenty of others in military garb. No, something else was off about me.
Sure, I was taller than most, but I was seated next to Herakles. He was as big as me, yet he seemed at ease and downright comfortable. So it wasn’t my size. Upon a second inspection, I still couldn’t figure out why I felt so weird. I knew people. I smiled and nodded here and there. All the ladies—even the married ones—smiled back. Some slipped phone numbers and email addresses in my pocket when they passed by. I’d yet to use phones and computers from The Shade, though. They were going to wait for a long time for me to hit them up. Besides, while they were all beautiful, I wasn’t interested.
One thing I’d learned from my affection toward Elonora. If I were ever to fall in love with someone, she’d have to be on a similar level—fierce, determined, smart as a whip, and capable of moving mountains and putting out active volcanoes in order to protect the people she loved and the people who couldn’t defend themselves. She had to be funny and lighthearted. Incisive and deadly. I knew it would be a while before I crossed paths with such a creature, and I had too much respect for both Elonora and Nevis to get between them. That being said, I did enjoy taunting the ice prince once in a while—particularly when the temperature was too high. Dmitri often referred to Nevis as my personal air-conditioner. And for good reason. I did know how to push his buttons.
“I wonder what food we’ll have at the wedding party,” Herakles muttered. He seemed relaxed in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, making his biceps seem as big as my head. The show-off. He’d let his hair grow, recently. It was black and short, and it did get plenty of ladies riled up. In my opinion, he’d had a certain charm as a baldie, too, but hey… his head, his choice.
“Hungry already?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
In the back of my head, I was still trying to figure out why I felt like I was sticking out in the crowd. It wasn’t the wings. They were neatly tucked beneath my shoulder blades. I wasn’t even the only Perfect present at this wedding. The world had gotten used to us, already. They enjoyed meeting us. Many looked up to us. Frankly, I wasn’t sure I liked that as much as my brethren. I felt it forced a responsibility down my throat, of being better, of always trying harder to maintain some kind of noble standard.
I was more into freedom and saying what was on my mind, even if it made others feel uncomfortable. Elonora often said it was part of my appeal, but I felt like it clashed with this idealized picture of Perfects that everyone else had when they thought of us. Meh. Who cares?
“I’m always hungry,” Herakles shot back, looking at me as if I was supposed to know that already. I had to give this guy credit—there were few people in my world whom I’d grown genuinely fond of. Herakles was one of them, though I never told him that. I didn’t want it getting to his head. He could be an arrogant SOB, if given the opportunity.
“All you have to do is survive the ceremony,” I said. “Speaking of which, when does it start?”
Most of the guests had already arrived. They were all seated—hundreds of them, in semi-circular rows. Luceria’s top platform had been set up for the wedding ceremony, complete with a wide and solid extension, to make sure everyone had room. Pillars rose from the edges, holding up a thin film that filtered the sunlight to a pleasant shade, making it comfortable for all the vampires and Maras. Bright yellow and white flowers were tied into twisted strips of white silk that crisscrossed the film ceiling.
Ivory-colored lightbulbs were strung above, connecting the pillars around the platform. They, in turn, were dressed in white silk and yellow flowers that matched the ceiling décor. Their petals were huge, curled outward as their scent filled the air with thoughts of lazy summers and sweet tea. Music played in the background, a collection of strings and keys that made my heart bloom.
Derek and Safira, one of the Daughters of Eritopia, waited at the pulpit, where Harper and Caspian were going to be wed. From what I’d been told, Serena and Draven had had a similar wedding event. It seemed to be turning from a Shadian-Eritopian tradition into a Shadian-Eritopian-Nerakian tradition now. Though technically Caspian was a Mara, and Maras hailed from Eritopia—his grandparents had been banished to Neraka along with the other Exiles.
“I think soon,” Herakles replied, giving the platform one last look before shifting his focus to me. “I’m seriously peckish, now. It had better start soon.”
“Last time I checked, ‘seriously’ and ‘peckish’ didn’t exactly work together. Why not just say you’re starving?” I asked, stifling a chuckle.
“That would make me sound desperate. I may be tribal folk, but I am not going to bitch about food,” Herakles retorted, raising his chin.
I cracked and burst into laughter. “It’s what you’ve been doing for the past five minutes.”
“What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you weren’t into weddings and stuff,” he grumbled.
“I’m not. But this sounded big, and I did get an invite. I didn’t want to seem rude.”
At the end of the aisle, standing with Derek and Safira, and waiting for the bride to come in, was Caspian. His expression made me feel pity for him—the poor guy was so nervous. He kept an iron face on, but I could tell, from the way his gaze darted around frantically, that he was on edge. No wonder, though. He was about to swear to spend the rest of his life with Harper. I could only imagine what all this felt like.
Still, credit had to be given here. The place looked amazing. Everyone was dressed up so nicely and crisp and shiny. Smiles all over. Kind eyes and wishful thinking. I kind of saw the appeal in all this, especially since these people seemed to have a knack for getting themselves into trouble—epic, life-threatening trouble—once in a while.
Personally, I enjoyed being out here, around these folks, more than being back home, on Strava. I sometimes felt bad about it, but I did get used to the thought, eventually. I was a rogue, a wandering spirit, I suppose. I found more joy in traveling and meeting all kinds of supernatural and otherworldly species than in staying on Strava and building diamond palaces. I mean, come on.
I just wasn’t cut out for my home world, and the sooner I internalized this, the happier I was going to be.
“You don’t give a damn about whether you’re considered rude or not,” Herakles said.
Bless his heart, this former baldie knew me better than most. I gave him a half-smile in return. “Nope, I do not. But I’m told that protocol, etiquette and common sense are appreciated, if I’m to get more foreign missions through GASP.”
“Hah. I knew it. You just want to play nice so they’ll let you out more,” Herakles replied.
I nodded. “Of course. You’ve seen the reports about the new worlds discovered in the In-Between. Don’t you want to go there? Don’t you want to see what else is out there?”
“I most certainly do.”
“There you go. Now, in order to do that, it’s good to be in GASP’s good graces, because they’re the ones with all the technology and space flight infrastructure required for such endeavors,” I said. “If that means I have to attend a wedding or a naming ceremony once in a while, so be it. It’s not going to kill me.”
“Tiny compromise, compared to the reward,” Herakles added, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Plus, the food’s amazing.”
I couldn’t help but wonder. “How many of these events have you been to, up to now?”
He shook his head. “I lost track.”
A brief chuckle left my throat, as some last-minute guests came up onto the platform and found their seats in a sea of silk-dressed chairs. I thought the back-bows were a tad too much, but, in the end, if it made the bride happy, what the hell?
“Who’s that gorgeous creature?” Herakles murmured, his gray gaze fixed on a young lady who seemed to have been torn out from a fairytale. “Who… I mean, think about the decisions made across eons and generations that have led to her being born. The universe, my friend, the universe is a most wondrous thing.”
I knew Herakles well enough to understand that he was at least partially smitten at this point. In our own rugged way, we were best friends. We knew things about each other that we didn’t share with anyone else. So, when Herakles expressed such admiration toward a lady, in such poetic terms, I knew his heart was about to catch fire. And he wasn’t easy to impress.
Then again, the wedding guest who had caught his eye more than fit the bill. She wasn’t tall. In fact, she was at least two heads shorter than this Faulty mountain sitting next to me. Her hair was long and jet black, falling down her back in perfect, luscious curls. Her skin had a pleasing caramel hue, and, when she casually glanced over her shoulder to see who else was late to the ceremony, I could see exactly why Herakles’s brain was already glitching. Those amethyst eyes could bring anyone to their knees.
“Who is she?” Herakles asked again.
I didn’t recognize her straightaway, but I knew the people she’d come with. Aisha and Horatio. Both jinn of The Shade. One quick scan of their facial features, and I had a name for the girl, as she took her seat next to Caia, Blaze, and the others in Harper’s close circle of friends. They got the snazzy front seats.
“I think it’s Riza Drizan. Aisha and Horatio’s daughter,” I said.
Herakles’s head snapped to the side, his eyes wide as they found me. “Oh, crap, a jinni.”
