Page 125 of He Sees You
"Daddy," she says, voice neutral. "Thank you for coming."
Sterling moves toward her, stops when she steps back. "You look... you look like your mother."
"I look like myself."
Juliette enters carrying a bag that clinks—bottles of champagne for the toast.
She's wearing black, of course, but formal black.
Funeral black. Perfect.
"The officiant has arrived," she announces. "Shall we begin?"
"Walk me down the aisle, Dad," Celeste says. It's not a request.
Sterling offers his arm.
She takes it like she's handling something diseased.
They begin the walk through the ruins, careful steps over debris, her dress collecting dust and ash with each movement.
I wait by the bloodstained floor, my chosen altar, watching my bride approach through a gauntlet of decay.
The chandelier above creaks ominously.
More snow drifts down, landing on Celeste's bare shoulders, melting instantly against her heated skin.
When they reach me, Sterling has to hand her over.
Has to physically place his daughter's hand in mine.
The man who trafficked children giving his child to a serial killer.
His hand shakes as our skin touches.
"Take care of her," he whispers.
"I'll take care of everything," I reply.
Juliette positions herself before us, pulls out a small black book.
Not a Bible—something else.
Something older.
"Dearly beloved," she begins, voice carrying through the dead space, "we are gathered here in the presence of witnesses living and dead, to join these two souls in unholy matrimony."
Sterling flinches at 'unholy' but says nothing.
"Marriage is a covenant written in blood, sealed with promises, consummated in darkness. It is not to be entered into lightly, but with the full knowledge that to love is to possess, to cherish is to consume, to honor is to kill for."
These are not traditional vows.
Juliette wrote them specifically for us.
"Cain Lockwood," she continues, "do you take this woman to be your wife? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in murder and in mercy, until death do you part?"
"I do."
