Page 35 of A Dead End Wedding

A lot.

I’d seen Jack’s first death, and it had been extremely traumatic. I knew I was likely to see Carlos’s first death, too. The one where he’d been turned into a vampire.

When I “saw” someone’s death, it wasn’t like watching a movie. I experienced the entire event as if I were there at that moment. Colors, sounds, smells, and all.

Blood smells like copper when there’s a lot, in case you ever wondered.

I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like seeing Carlos die one bit.

But if it helped …

When Jack walked in with five bags of food, I looked at Susan. “Is lunchtime too early to crack open a bottle of wine?”

“I’m right there with you,” she said glumly. “But I was thinking whiskey.”

14

Tess

Saturday: Wedding minus 7 days

Fifteen minutes till midnight

This time, Viviette didn’t bother with any ceremony at all. She popped in with her retinue, pointed at a warrior who held two scary-looking swords, and then pointed at Carlos, who had flatly refused to let me try my gift on him.

“It’s you, night walker?”

He bowed elegantly. “It’s me.”

I rolled my eyes. Since he was the only Dead Ender carrying swords, who else would it be? But smarting off to a Fae queen—especially this one—wasn’t the best idea, as Jack’s granddad could attest.

“En garde,”the Fae called out, raising one sword and sheathing the other on his back.

Carlos did the same and advanced toward his opponent.

For almost two long minutes, the fight progressed like a stylized fencing exhibition. Swords flashed with inhuman speed and grace, clashing against each other with the ring of steel on steel. Flickers of sparks danced through the night air when the swords met. The two of them locked their eyes on each other, almost never blinking. Watching for any sign of weakness or fatigue.

Then, suddenly, everything changed. The battle intensified; shifted from a dance to a brawl. Their steps quickened, their rhythm pounding through every moment.

“This is not good,” Jack whispered so softly I barely heard it. “Carlos is good, but he’s not that good.”

I hated to admit it, but I saw it, too. Carlos was tiring. He faltered, and the next strike pushed past his guard and sliced his arm. He parried, but too slowly. When the Fae drove forward again, Carlos seemed to get a second wind. He leaped through the air, somersaulting over his opponent.

But the Fae had expected that. He whirled around and drove his sword into Carlos’s side, and my neighbor—my friend—grunted in pain. Then, clutching his side with one hand, Carlos fell back. He kept his eyes on the Fae, but he was fading. Blood dripped from his arm and, profusely, from his side.

Susan made a sound but kept her lips clamped together to keep from distracting her brother. I reached out without looking and grabbed her hand, holding on tight, as we watched the Fae, sporting a smug smile, advance on Carlos, step by confident step.

“Sadly, the battle is not to the death,” the Fae said, regret plain on his face. “Only to the defeat or surrender of one opponent. Yield, vampire.”

Carlos, unbelievably, grinned. “That’s Mr. Vampire to you.”

And then he ripped his torn and bleeding shirt off, right there in town square, and tossed it on the ground. “You said something about yielding?”

In a burst of explosive motion, the fight was back on, but this was a whole new game. Where before, Carlos had acted just a touch slow, just a touch weak, now he showed the Fae and all of Dead End how powerful he really was.

“He’s as dangerous as Jack,” Susan breathed. “I mean, I knew he was a vampire. But you never think about your big brother turning into a lethal weapon.”

The Fae did his best. I’ll give him that.

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