Page 90 of Guarded By the Phantom

“No.”

I turned away, covering my ears. Scarab laid his hand on top of mine and told Fatima to go away, his voice muffled through both our palms. Maybe it was childish, but I didn’t want to hear whatever my mother had to say. If I never talked to her again for the rest of my life, I’d be perfectly happy.

“She’s gone, baby,” he said, gently pulling my hand away from my ear. “It’s all over. Fatima will clean this up. We can go if you’re ready.”

I looked at his face, my chest squeezing with happiness and guilt. He still wanted to protect me after what I did to him. He was here. He wanted me, even joked about getting married. I didn’t deserve him.

As I stared, Scarab’s grin slowly shrank, his eyes losing their glow.

“I mean, assuming you want to come with me,” he said after a short pause, his voice quiet. “I thought you might, but…”

“I do!” I interrupted, coughing again. “I want to be with you. I love you, and I’m so sorry for everything I said! I was so terrified you wouldn’t believe me and they’d kill you, and…”

“Shh, baby doll. It’s okay.” He leaned in, his eyes flashing pink. “You did your best, and you did great. I’m just gonna need a lot of reassurance until you marry me, I guess.”

I smiled, reaching up to touch his face. Whatever the doctor gave me worked, because I already felt stronger and my limbs stopped shaking. I would probably be able to walk.

“I’d marry you right now,” I murmured jokingly. “I missed you so much.”

His eyes brightened, and he leaned in to nuzzle my cheek with a happy sigh. “Do you mean that, though?” he asked, pulling back.

I nodded. If it was even possible, which it wasn’t, I’d absolutely marry him. I was done waiting for good things to happen to me, done hoping that I’d be good enough one day. He was here, he wanted me, and I was ready to have him, once and for all.

Scarab laughed darkly and looked up, raising his hand.

“You there! Pastor! Come over here and marry us or I’ll blow up your church!”

I huffed softly. “I think we need a marriage license first.”

“My hacker friend will get it done,” he said, waving his hand in dismissal. “Hey, pastor. That was a joke, by the way. I won’t blow up your church. But if you don’t want the joke to turn into reality, you’ll have to marry us right now.”

The minister, who was a slender man in his late forties, regarded Scarab through his rectangular glasses, clutching a Bible to his chest. He looked spooked and uncertain, and when Scarab took a step closer, he flinched.

“Come on, don’t be scared. We’re all friends here,” Scarab said with a low laugh. “You just need to marry me and my girl and we’ll be on our way. My foot will never step in your church again. Pinkie promise.”

“You can’t get everything you want with threats, you know,” a low voice rumbled from the side.

I sat up to see. A large shehru man stood nearby, his muscular, scaly arms folded on his massive chest. He looked amused.

“Watch me,” Scarab growled, turning back to the minister, who was now seemingly trapped between him and the shehru. “So, what will it be, pastor? You gonna marry us or should I get my grenades?”

The pastor glanced at the church door, where a couple of police officers were interviewing the wedding guests. Scarab snapped his fingers in front of his face.

“Eyes up here, man. They won’t help you.”

I put my hand on his forearm, clearing my throat. “Pastor Michaels, please. I promise we’ll be out of your hair as soon as you officiate, and as a token of our gratitude, I’ll make sure the repair costs for the bridal suite are fully covered.”

The shehru laughed under his breath, and the minister shook his head, capitulating. “Fine, Barbara. If you insist.”

When Scarab gave me a pouty look, picking me up to help me off the altar, I smiled and brushed his cheek in a small kiss.

“Your friend is right. Sometimes a check works better than threats.”

He huffed, carrying me to where the pastor stood next to the altar, waiting for us. “Good thing that I’m about to marry a rich girl, then. Nat, come here. You’re gonna be my best man.”

The shehru slithered over, giving me a toothy grin. “Do you have rings?”

Scarab reached into the breast pocket of his jacket, producing two thin, metal bands that looked faintly familiar.

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