Page 69 of Soulbound Shadows: Part 2

Being magically linked. Being magically married. My mind went blank, then immediately stuttered into overdrive. We were already somewhat linked, weren’t we? I couldn’t deny how my mind sought her out all the time, and if doing this meant I could help keep her magic from overwhelming her…

The decision was simple. So simple, in fact, I could barely even count it as a decision. Then I smiled.

I took Evangeline’s hand, and she looked up at me, her mouth dropping open. The dry autumn grass crunched beneath me as I went down on one knee, and her eyes widened even further.

“Evangeline Summers,” I said. “Would you make me the happiest man ali—er, unalive— and do me the honor of defeating an insane witch with me?”

Evangeline stared at me, then let out a shocked, happy laugh. “Gabriel De Montclair, I can honestly say that I thought you’d never ask.”

24

EVANGELINE

Things became a giddy blur. This kind of familiar bond wasn’t exactly like being married, but it wasn’t that far off. Having a soul bond excited the hell out of me. Besides, we were all eager for a little bit of lightness by then, and we got… well, we got a little carried away.

The ceremony at its core was pretty simple, but that was before the vampires got involved. They loved dramatics, especially if it presented an opportunity to dress up. Lissa took charge with the determination and authority of a decorated general, drilling Marcus for details on the history of the ceremony and scribbling down sketches. She barked orders at everyone, and they jumped to do what she said with baffled amusement. It was like, for just a day, we could pretend this was the most important thing any of us were worried about.

Once Lissa’s orders had been given, and Vic was deputized to make sure they were followed, she whisked me away to her room. It was tucked into the back of the third floor, and the walls were older than the rest as if the room had been built back when the rest of the floor was one open space. The only way to tell that her room and mine were part of the same building was because they had the same tall ceilings and windows. The similarities ended there. Her room looked like an M. C. Escher version of a four-poster bed, or maybe the world’s most glamorous laundry room. There was fabric everywhere. It hung down from the ceiling all the way to the floor, tied aside in graceful curves to show even more fabric behind. The layers of gauzy, sheer curtains over the windows shifted over each other in the breeze, the colors blending and changing. The fabric hanging down from the ceiling’s dark beams divided the room into sections, and I was glad I had her with me, because I would have gotten lost in the maze.

Lissa fixed me with a firm, examining look. “Green, I think,” she said brusquely.

“Uh,” I supplied. “Sorry, for what, exactly?”

“Evangeline, you can’t get soul bonded in that,” Lissa said, looking at my jeans with more disapproval than was necessary.

“I feel like I definitely can,” I muttered, and she raised an eyebrow at me in a way that made me think of every teacher I’d ever disappointed.

“You can.” She wrinkled her nose. “But do you want to? Or do you want me to make you something utterly spectacular?”

I flushed. Fuck it. Fuck being practical, fuck being efficient, fuck durable clothes that were easy to clean ectoplasm off of. I was getting soul bonded to an extremely handsome vampire noble, and I wanted to look like a goddamn princess.

“I’d like something spectacular, please,” I said.

Lissa grinned and clapped, squealing a little. “I found the perfect fabric. This place used to be a fabric mill, you know, and according to Marcus, when he got this place, this room was locked up with the last of the fabric still inside.”

“That explains all the…” I waved a hand at the hanging curtains all around us.

“It’s stunning, isn’t it?” Lissa squealed. “No doubt an absolutely atrocious fire hazard, but, well, it isn’t my house. When we arrived, I snooped around the room thoroughly, as one does.”

“Of course,” I said, and I wasn’t even being sarcastic. I always looked in the medicine cabinet when I used someone’s bathroom, and after years of working as a paranormal private investigator, I wasn’t even ashamed of it. (It wasn’t always for a case. One time it had been because the client’s foundation was flawless, but it didn’t seem right to ask her about it while I was trying to find the people who had stolen her car with her dog inside it.)

“And I found this!” Lissa swung aside panels of fabric to reveal a plain wooden door. Behind it was a small, tidy room, shockingly plain after wading through the opulent hanging fabrics. The walls were mostly bare, with just bobbin racks, a neat row of scissors and rulers, and swatches of fabric pinned up. The room was the width of one of the giant mill windows, so one entire wall was just glass, letting in the sunlight. A sewing table was set up below the bobbin racks, the old-fashioned kind with a glossy black sewing machine built into the top of it, and a few rolls of fabric stood in one corner, dusty but otherwise untouched by time.

“My theory is they set up this room to make clothing samples to show off their wares to potential buyers,” Lissa said happily. “Some people lack imagination, you know. They can’t see the potential in fabric unless they hold it in their hand. It must be an absolutely tragic way to live.”

She heaved one of the rolls of fabric out of the corner. They weren’t on bolts but long wooden poles that must have been part of the looms themselves. The silvery green silk gleamed, reminding me of eucalyptus leaves. The length that was loose from the roll flowed through the air as she swished the fabric back and forth.

“This one, I think,” Lissa said. “Now, hop up onto that stool, and I’ll get to work.”

Lissa measured me with the efficiency of an expert, then draped some fabric over me and measured again. She patted me on the back and sent me away. Everyone scurried around preparing stuff, either for the ceremony or for what would come afterward. I desperately wanted to make myself useful, but the ceremony did have certain requirements. I had to meditate, then bathe. Marcus must’ve had a word with the house, because my room’s shower had morphed into a tub. It was still tiny, and my knees stuck out of the water, but it was better than knocking my elbows against the wall while I washed myself.

It was a weird feeling, kind of impatient and calm at the same time. It felt like I’d set everything up for a party, and now I had to sit and twitch for that last half hour before the guests arrived. I was getting soul bonded. I was getting soul bonded to someone I loved. My cheeks hurt, and I realized I’d been sitting in the tiny bathtub, grinning like a lunatic.

When I came out of the bathroom, Gabriel was waiting in the bedroom. His eyes crinkled at the corners when he saw me, and I desperately wanted to kiss him, so I did. He smiled against my lips and tugged gently at my damp hair.

“I thought I might reiterate my earlier offer,” he murmured. “Since it’s apparently a big day.” He’d already set out the hair oil and comb. They were aligned precisely with the pattern of the bedspread, which meant he’d been out here waiting long enough to fidget with things.

I smiled up at him and nodded. “I’d like that.”

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