vengeance is mine
LEE SAVINO
CHAPTER 1
lula
The air at the altar of the church is thick and heavy, compressed from decades of Sunday sermons. It smells like pompous preaching and unanswered prayers, with an aftertaste of stale lemony furniture polish. The only sounds are the occasional coughs and creaks from guests shifting in the wooden pews.
Under the crime against fashion that is my wedding gown, I shift from foot to foot. Tacky white satin heels pinch my feet, and the once rich red carpet I’m standing on has faded to an anemic pink, too thin to cushion anything. My head is completely shrouded by the traditional veil, so no one can see my resting bitch face.
My groom, David, stands at my side. A snowfall of dandruff dusts the shoulders of his dark suit, and his nostrils are dusted white from the cocaine habit he’s hoping to hide. Every few seconds, his eyes slide towards me, checking to make sure I’m still beside him. When he sees that I am, he blinks, and his dull brown eyes brighten like he can’t believe his luck. As far as he’s concerned, I’m a dream girl he conjured from his fantasies, sleek and elegant and soft-spoken. . . and way, way out of his league. Yet willing, nay insisting, we marry. A mythical creature, like a unicorn. Blink, and I’ll disappear.
If I’m lucky, all the guests will be wondering how he snared me, and not how whirlwind our courtship was or why the bride’s side of the church is completely empty.
The organ notes die with a sound like an accordion falling down the stairs. The minister clears his throat.
“Dearly beloved,” he intones. I can smell his halitosis from here.
David’s great aunt Eunice, his only living relative, booked this venue. In the interest of speed, I let her plan everything except my dress. She dug the veil I’m wearing out of storage and ordered the peonies in my bouquet. I told her I was allergic to peonies. She either didn’t care or did it on purpose. She thinks there’s something off about me, about this whole wedding.
For a fossil, Eunice is pretty sharp. She senses a con, but her grand nephew is properly fooled. As far as he’s concerned, I’m his true love. I’ve sold the image of a soft-spoken, smitten virgin so well, I’m impressed with myself. I deserve an acting reward for how well I’ve pretended his touch doesn’t make my skin crawl.
Eunice glares at me from the front pew, and I freeze my fidgeting until I resemble a mannequin in a bridal shop window, stiff and swathed in white. I chose my dress. It’s huge and puffy with yards of itchy crinoline and lace. Perfect for my plan.
The minister is droning on about love and commitment and all the things that don’t apply to this marriage. I want to tell him to hurry up. The sooner I’m married, the sooner I can roofie my groom and go hunting for the quarry I really want. Stephanos.
We’re halfway through the most boring ceremony in the world when the bang of doors opening echoes from the foyer to the altar. The minister coughs and falls silent, fumbling in his train of thought. The pews creak as curious guests turn as one to investigate.
A late arrival? I remain staring at the minister, ignoring the interruption. It’s only when David turns and frowns, his pasty skin blanching further, that I turn, too.
A man prowls up the aisle from the back of the church, wearing a dark suit and a viper’s smile. He has white blond hair, close-cropped to his head. Shadows lie in the hollows under his eyes and cheekbones. The sleek suit obscures the breadth of his shoulders and the athleticism of the powerful body underneath.
A jolt runs through me. His features are perfect, so perfect, it hurts to look at him. Judging from the way women in the audience suck in a breath, I’m not the only one who thinks so. But I might be the only one who notices the feral tilt to his smile and the intense light in his eyes. He looks more hungry than happy. Expectant.
Years of instincts honed from being around dangerous men tell me this man belongs in their ranks.
The church is quiet, the only sound a candle guttering out in its candelabra. Eunice has turned her glare to the latecomer, pressing her lips together until they’re white. Whoever this is, she either disapproves of him, his interruption, or both.
Is this the best man? He’s striding straight to the altar toward us like an oncoming storm.
And the closer he gets, the taller he looms. He’s taller than David, who towers over me.
He doesn’t spare me a glance but steps smoothly up to David, who licks his lips, obviously unsure how to respond.
The newcomer murmurs, “Stefanos sends his regards.” With practiced grace, he pulls David into a one-armed hug, his right arm clamping around David’s shoulders while his left arm folds between them.
In the man’s embrace, David’s body jerks hard, and a half gasp, half gurgle escapes his parted lips. The intruder releases David and steps back. Metal flashes between the dark suits.
David folds forwards, a bright spurt of cartoonishly red blood spurting from his chest. The ketchup-colored liquid spatters my veil, and the white satin of my gown soaks up the droplets.
The intruder stands aside, a hint of amusement in his serpentine smile. David crashes to the floor, choking on his own blood.
My ears are ringing. Someone is screaming, and there are panicked cries and scrambling feet in the pews. The chaplain’s Bible thuds onto the ancient carpet. His shoes make no sound as he flees, leaving me as the only witness to watch the light fade from David’s eyes.
Blood speckles David’s gray face and soaks his white shirt. The knife got him in the heart. That’s not an easy strike. It takes force to push a blade through someone’s ribs, through the pericardium, and into the beating, vital organ. And this man did it with the coolness of someone hugging a brother to congratulate him on his wedding day.
There’s not going to be a wedding, not anymore. The guests are gone, fleeing what they can rightly guess is a mob execution. A metallic taste is in my mouth, and my empty stomach is roiling. The echo of slammed doors dies away, and I stand speckled with my betrothed’s blood, my plan for vengeance dying at my feet.