“Why the ‘oh, crap’?” I asked, slightly confused.
He shrugged. “I don’t know… They’re so powerful. They can friggin’ vanish into thin air. They freak me out a little bit.”
“The Arch-Perfects can do that, too,” I said.
“Equally freakish. What’s your point?”
I chuckled. “I think you’re just a little intimidated. You shouldn’t be. I’ll bet she won’t say no if you ask her to dance later.”
A grin slit Herakles’s face, as he measured me from head to toe. “Look at you, giving me dating advice.”
I rolled my eyes and resumed my slow scan of the terrace. “Like it or not, I might be the only friend you’ve got, at this point. And if you don’t get some kind of help from me, you will crash and burn and go back to the Stravian woods, to live like a hermit and never get over the humiliation.”
Herakles blinked several times as he processed my stinging conclusion. “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks.”
He wasn’t just a Faulty. He was a proud Faulty. The kind who didn’t respond well to failure. I could already see him hopping on an interplanetary spell and hiding somewhere on Noagh after Riza said no to his dance invitation. Herakles was like that. Big and menacing and roguish on the outside, yet hilariously soft and mushy and sensitive on the inside.
In my survey of the wedding crowd, I spotted something interesting. In the second row, farther to the left and seated next to Jax, the Mara Lord, his succubus lady, Hansa, and the rest of their extended family, were two more than noticeable ladies. Both were tall brunettes, with long and perfectly straight hair. It seemed as though it had been sculpted on them. One was slightly older, though she carried her fine lines with impressive grace. I figured she was the mother.
There were scales on her arms, and, once she turned her head to listen to something her daughter said, I spotted the ones on her neck. Heck, her daughter was a faithful copy, though there was something extra about her. Not the youthful spark in her eyes, but their bright amber-yellow color. Her lips were full and red, and when she smiled, two small fangs were visible.
In combination with her pale, mother-of-pearl-like skin, I found it safe to draw my conclusion. I was looking at Tamara, Lady of the Lamias, and her daughter, Eva. The latter had turned vampire about a year ago. I hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting them, but I had a feeling I would, soon enough.
But that wasn’t even the most interesting part of my quick study. I followed Eva’s gaze as it traveled across the aisle, on the right side of the terrace. She’d set her sights on… Varga, Elonora’s older brother, who’d been seated next to Ash and Ruby, his sister and her popsicle prince, Nevis. Varga, however, had no idea that he was being watched.
Tamara was already busy exchanging pleasantries with another guest sitting next to her, while Eva was practically undressing Varga in a single, disastrously intense stare.
“How does he not feel that?” I breathed, feeling my lips stretch into a grin.
“Say what, now?” Herakles asked, though he didn’t see where I was looking.
I turned my head to face him, then shook my head. “Nothing,” I replied.
I didn’t know much about Eva, but I’d met enough creatures on Calliope to recognize the feral attraction that a Lamia like her could instigate. She was all flesh and instincts, and if she was as bright as Serena had mentioned, I figured she was perfectly capable of turning a guy like Varga inside out in a split second.
Part of me wanted to witness that moment. Varga was so bright and self-confident and dashing… Ugh, someone needed to slap him back into reality. I had a feeling that Eva might be the one to do it. First, however, these two had to meet. I made it my mission to make it happen, if Eva didn’t find her way to him first. Not that I was particularly interested in getting people together—I just wanted to see the sparks fly and Varga turn to mush. Eva seemed like the kind of gal who could pull it off.
By the time the wedding ceremony started, I was getting hungry, too. I didn’t say anything to Herakles about it. The last thing I wanted was one of his annoying “Aha!” replies.
The entire Novak clan was present. Sofia, Ben and River, Rose and Caleb, Xavier and Vivienne, Lucas and Marion, all the kids and grandkids, the spouses, girlfriends, boyfriends, and so on. I found Douma and Dmitri to be quite cute together—I knew her better than she knew herself, and, despite my approval of their relationship, I did make sure that Dmitri understood what would happen if he hurt her or broke her heart. It involved me ripping his head off and feeding it to Serena’s pet shape-shifters, who were now huddled in a corner. My description of the entire process seemed to have stuck with Dmitri, because he broke into a cold sweat whenever he exchanged glances with the faceless creatures.
I loved Douma like a sister. She was important to me, just like Herakles, in her own way. I was still learning a lot of things about myself, but my emotional attachment was pretty simple. I could easily tear through an army just to make sure my loved ones were safe. The Novaks must’ve rubbed off on me.
From the groom’s side, half of White City’s elite fighters and nobles were settled across three rows of silk-dressed chairs. The ribbons fluffed out some of the harsh jawlines and cold stares. Then again, silk ribbons canceled out any kind of toughness.
Harper and Caspian wanted a simple wedding, from what I’d heard. That meant a quick ceremony, the vow exchange, the rings, then the kiss at the end. Still, it had taken forever just to get all the guests over. I could already imagine Harper downstairs, seething as she was told to hold off, while the last of those invited made their way up to this magnificent terrace.
I caught Elonora’s gaze for a second. Warmth spread through me. She was still the epitome of greatness, at a level I knew few would ever truly get. Behind her were three people I didn’t recognize. At all. I’d done a good job of memorizing most of GASP and The Shade, not to mention Eritopia and Neraka. Fiona and Zane were seated next to these three, along with their newborn baby, Sophia.
“Do you know them?” I asked Herakles after a brief nudge.
He followed my gaze, then nodded. “The Novaliks. Part of Sofia’s family. From before. I mean, from the lady’s side. That’s Abby Hudson,” he said, looking at the slightly elder female in the trio. “Her mom raised Sofia while her dad was out doing who-knows-what.”
“Aiden. He was a Hunter at the time,” I replied, remembering some of the history. The Novaks were so famous and admired that they were literally subjects of interest in the Shadian history books. I wondered if I’d ever get a chapter of my own, someday. “Right. The Hudsons. Humans, if I remember correctly.”
“Well, not anymore. Abby is married to Erik Novalik, and that’s their daughter, Amelia. They’re all vampires now.”
“I see you’re all up to speed with the Novaks and the Novaliks and The Shade and whatnot,” I replied, trying hard not to grin.
Herakles noticed my effort, then rolled his eyes. “Abby’s a remarkably good cook, though she can’t exactly eat anything she makes,” he said. “Of course I remember her.”
Abby was beautiful. Erik struck me as dark and brooding. Amelia had her back to us, so I couldn’t form an opinion at this point in time. Instead, I looked at Herakles. “When did you get to eat her food?”
“Oh, a couple of nights ago. There was a big Novak dinner in The Shade. I happened to be invited,” Herakles replied.
“Whose arm did you twist? I know you. I know the lengths you’ll go to for free food.”
He smacked me over the shoulder—friendly, but hard enough to remind me he could still punch my lights out, if I gave him the opportunity. I laughed, but quickly went silent when the maids of honor finally came out.
The music changed. Here comes the bride.
A couple of hours later, Harper and Caspian were locked together in their first dance, while everyone else watched and fawned over them. The wedding party was as impressive as the ceremony, as it took place in one of Luceria’s upper-level banquet halls—all white marble with gold streaks and light fixtures.
The buffet was enormous. I stayed close to Herakles during the dinner, occasionally finding myself astonished by the amount of food he could fit in his mouth—not to mention his stomach. I had a feeling he had four or five of those.
I didn’t even notice him looking at me, until it was too late.
“Don’t judge,” he said around a mouthful. “I like food.”
