down at Dahlia. “And I’m not saying I’m happy about my packleader marrying a vamp, legal or not. But I’m gonna walk you home, unless you fly away.”
Dahlia’s brows drew together.
“After all,” he said, “I’m in charge of security for the wedding, and I’m the best man. Since you’re the maid of honor, I understand, you’ll be responsible for security on your side? We should talk.”
Dahlia turned to Don and Taffy, who were standing hand in hand, looking shell-shocked. “I will see you tomorrow night, Taffy,” the vampire said formally. “Don.” She nodded at the packleader, still not able to think of a formal pleasantry that would suit the unsuitable alliance.
The big Were and the little vampire walked side by side for a few blocks. Everyone they met stepped off the sidewalk to give them room, and the odd pair never even noticed.
“You’re quite articulate for a Were.” Dahlia’s voice was cool and steady.
“Hey, some of us have even graduated from high school,” he said easily. “Myself, I made it through college without tearing up one single coed.”
“I shared my brother’s tutor until my parents decided that, as a girl, I didn’t need to learn any more,” Dahlia said, to her own surprise. To cover her confession, Dahlia launched into a discussion of the security measures for the wedding. The vampires would guard the doors to the mansion; the only people on the premises should be the invited guests and the catering staff.
“Are all the vampires living in the mansion invited to the wedding?” Todd asked, trying to sound casual.
“Yes,” Dahlia said, after a moment’s consideration. “We’re all nest-mates, after all.”
“How’s that work?”
“Well, we live together under Cedric’s rule, since he’s the sheriff of this area. As long as we’re nest-mates, we protect each other and come to each other’s aid.”
“And contribute to Cedric’s purse?”
“Well, yes. If we stayed in a hotel, we’d pay for lodging, so that’s fair.”
“And do his bidding?”
“Yes, that, too.”
“A lot like the pack does for the packleader.”
“I had assumed so. What part will the Weres play in security?” Dahlia asked. Todd was asking entirely too many questions.
“There should be a Were at every door, too, along with a vamp. We need to make sure that one or the other knows everyone who comes into the mansion that day. This wedding isn’t popular with anyone, vamps or Weres, and though Don is totally not worried, I am.”
“None of the vampires are worried, except me,” Dahlia confessed. They’d arrived at a side door to the huge house on a street in the heart of the haughtiest section of the city. Cedric had had centuries of savings to use in purchasing this prime piece of Rhodes real estate, and though having a vampire among them hadn’t made the wealthy neighbors happy, the city’s Freedom of Housing ordinance had reinforced the vampires’ right to live where they chose.
Todd said, “Good night, dead lady.”
“Good night, hairball,” she said. But just before the door closed behind her, she turned to smile at him.
The day of the wedding closed clear and warm, ideal for the outside ceremony. Acting uneasily in tandem, the Were and vamp security teams had admitted the catering staff, scanning their ID cards quickly. The teams paid more careful attention to the invitations presented by their own kind.
When Dahlia checked out the garden, the fountain of synthetic blood was flowing beautifully, champagne glasses arranged in a tier on a table beside it. It was a pretty touch, and Dahlia was proud she’d arranged it with the caterer, along with a groaning buffet for the Weres and a bar with drinks both alcoholic and nonalcoholic. Dahlia walked down the buffet, checking the stainless-steel eating utensils and the napkins and heated containers full of food. It seemed sufficient, though Dahlia was not much of a judge. The two servers stood stiffly behind the buffet, eyeing her passage with unhappy eyes.
Every human on the catering staff was tense. They’ve never served vampires, she thought, and maybe the Weres are giving off some kind of vibration, too.
She wasn’t a bit surprised to encounter Todd, who was making a circuit of the high brick wall that guarded the large backyard of the mansion.
“Where’s your dress?” he asked. “I’m panting to see it.” Dahlia was in a black robe, modestly tied at her waist. Todd was already in his tuxedo. Dahlia had to blink.
“You look good,” she said, her voice almost as calm as usual, though her fangs were sliding out. “Good” was a definite