Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 60826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
“You blamed me for what you thought I did, which, to be fair, is also what I thought I did. So. That’s generally understandable. I just have one question.”
“Yes?”
“Will you marry me?”
There’s a general gasp from the Brotherhood as he says it just like that. I’m still holding the picture of my family's graves and he’s asking me to marry him. He has the tact and the timing of a Molotov cocktail, this man. He is impatient and he is reckless, and he treats me like a whipping girl from time to time, and…
“Do you love me, Bryn? I mean me? Not who I came from? Not what I remind you of, but actually me?”
I have to know the answer to that question. And I have to believe it.
“Yes," he says solemnly. “I love you so much I would kill for you as many times as it took.”
"That doesn’t count. You like killing.”
“True,” he admits.
“I love you enough to be the villain in your story,” he says. “Until the truth comes out.”
“That’s... something,” I admit. “You did put up with a lot."
“I did,” he agreed. "And I loved you for every second of it. I am devoted to you, Nina. And whether you agree to be my wife or not, I will remain devoted. That, I vow.”
I glance around at everybody. Thor especially. I’m remembering the time he told me I belong to Bryn. It's almost enough to make me say no based on pure petulance.
But I don’t say no, do I.
I say yes.
Chapter Twenty-One
Nina
My entire life has been a lie. My brother was a demon. I banished him to Hell. These are very sad, strange, fucked-up things to contend with — so I’ve decided not to contend with them. Instead, I’ve buried them away nice and deep and I’ve focused on important things, like what my wedding dress will look like.
Mrs Crocombe has gone above and beyond to ensure that I am wearing the dress of my dreams. The lace bodice and train are exquisite, and thousands of pearls dance along the flowing skirt of the dress, making me look like a shining princess. A hundred pictures have been taken of me, and I know that one of them will soon grace the wall next to the portrait of my mother. I’m going to make everything that ever went wrong feel right again. I swear it.
Bryn and I are to be married today, a bright summer day. A day with no risk of fog. A day in which I am granted reprieve from visions, and Bryn is spared the effort of restraining himself from acts of great violence. This will be a happy day. We have decided in advance that it will be happy and I am not going to let us down.
The wedding is taking place at Bryn’s church, of course, where the chapel has been festooned with white roses. I cannot imagine how far afield the collection must have been taken up to gather so many.
I am waiting outside, standing in a white dress that belies my many previous defilements. I clasp a bouquet of roses before my breast and try not to freak out. Bryn loves me. I love him. Or at the very least, we are both so enmeshed in one another’s twisted traumas it may as well be love.
“Miaow?” A ginger cat brushes up against my leg, leaving fur across the dress. It’s not ideal, but what is. A cat is a cat, and we cannot change its nature. We have to accept it for what it is. I am learning that lesson a lot lately, over and over, painfully.
“You look beautiful.”
I turn around and see the old man from the garden. He’s wearing an old brown suit with a dull plaid shirt. He’s doing his best to look good, but in a way that only serves to make him look sad and old and alone. I feel immense pity for this man.
“Craig?”
“I hope it is not too much to ask for an old man to watch his daughter's wedding.”
“Are you secretly actually a demon sent to torment me?”
“No," he says.
“Prove it.”
“Craig.”
That’s Bryn’s voice. He's supposed to be up at the altar, looking dashing, waiting for me to walk down the aisle. Instead he is out here in a suit, looking hot as hell.
“You're not supposed to see me before… it’s bad luck, anyway…”
Bryn’s not really even looking at me. He's looking at Craig.
"Why are you here?”
“I’m here because every party worth its salt has a specter," he says. “The ghost of a horrid past. Something borrowed, something blue, something old, something new. I am what is old.”
“You hounded her mother to another country,” Bryn growls.
I put a hand on his shoulder. “Bryn. Isn’t it time we forgave….I don’t know. Something? Maybe this? My mom has been gone a long time. She made her choices. All of them. He’s suffered enough. And he is the only family I have left.”