Jayne Castle - Bridal Jitters

"What are you going to do with that man's guild license?"

"I'll give it to Mercer Wyatt. He can take it from there." Sam got to his feet. "The guild polices its own."

Virginia gave him an odd look. "You're, uh, friends with the head of Hunter's Guild?"

"Let's just say that Wyatt and I have a nodding acquaintance. He owes me a couple of favors." Sam studied the illusion trap that guarded the exit. "Go ahead and de-rez it. I'll drag these two out of here. We'll leave them in the corridor. Wyatt can send one of his staff to clean up this mess."

"We were worried sick." Adeline helped herself to a leftover black-and-orange cupcake from the plate on Virginia's desk. "First we hear that you and Sam have gone missing in the corridors: a report which, I hasten to add, none of your buddies believed for one tiny minute, because we all know how good you and Sam are; and then we learn that the two of you got zapped by some sort of massive ghost called a waterfall."

"The waterfall part was for real." Virginia rocked back in her chair and took a sip of hot, spiced cider. "But, as you can see, neither of us got zapped."

She peered at her watch, wondering what was keeping Sam. After talking to the police, he had gone to meet with Mercer Wyatt. She had not liked that. It was no secret in Cadence City that Wyatt ran the guild as though it was his own, private fiefdom. A lot of folks, including an editorial writer on the Cadence Star considered him no more than one or two steps removed from being a gangster. But she could not argue with the fact that if you were a ghost-hunter, you had to form some sort of business relationship with the guild. She had not asked Sam just what kind of terms he had worked out with Wyatt. She was not sure she wanted to know.

"So what, exactly, was going on down there in the tunnels?" Adeline asked around a mouthful of cupcake.

"A band of ruin rats headed by a recently fired employee of the University Museum named Fairbanks uncovered a hole-in-the-wall just beneath the museum's basement. They were using it to siphon off some of the museum's holdings. Stuff that had been in storage for years, which might not have been missed for years. If Mac Ewert hadn't accidentally stumbled onto that waterfall and asked us to help him de-rez it, the rats probably would never have been caught."

Holes-in-the-wall were not uncommon. They usually took the form of tiny cracks and fissures through which little more than ambient psi energy could squeeze. But some of the openings in the thick quartz walls and underground corridors were large enough for a man to crawl through. A few were even bigger: eons-old stairwells and empty shafts that no longer ascended anywhere. It was one of those that Fairbanks, a powerful tangler, had discovered while laboring in the basement of the huge museum.

Adeline gazed at her with the look of a professional inquisitor. "What now?"

Virginia shrugged. "The cops take it from here. Last I heard, they'd picked up everyone involved except Leon Drummond. But I doubt if he'll escape. Not with the guild looking for him as well as the police."

"I wasn't talking about your big case. I know the firm of Gage & Burch has closed it. Probably be all over the evening news." Adeline selected a black-and-orange petit four. "I meant what happens now with you and Sam?"

Virginia took another sip of hot cider and contemplated the heavy mist that drifted in the street outside the office window.

She thought about the passion that had exploded between them in the little fountain chamber.

"Good question," she said quietly.

The narrow streets and twisted lanes of the Old Quarter were thick with fog, but that did not deter the throngs of hobgoblins, ghosts, witches, and assorted monsters who had come to the district to celebrate Halloween.

Virginia walked out of the little corner restaurant with Sam at her side shortly after ten. She could feel the stray pulses of psi energy that leaked from the ruins. They seemed stronger than usual tonight. Maybe it was true that the Dead City was more alive at Halloween than at other times. She was aware of constant little frissons across her para senses. Some just tickled; some were more disturbing. But she could not be sure that all of them were caused by ambient Harmonic energy. She knew that some of the ripples were attributable to Sam, who seemed blithely oblivious to the new level of awareness that pulsed between them.

When he had suggested dinner together earlier, she had been sure that he wanted to talk about their future. But the only thing that had been discussed over a bottle of wine and a leisurely meal of tapenade-tossed cheese ravioli and good bread had been their case.

She did not want to hear another word about their case. She was heartily sick and tired of discussing their case.

Sam paused on the restaurant step and eyed the tide of costumed celebrants that flooded the street.

"I don't know about you, but I've had enough of ghosts and goblins for a while," he said. "What do you say we take a shortcut home and drink a private toast to the successful finale of Gage & Burch's first case?"

Home. To talk some more about their stupid case. Virginia steeled herself. "Sam, we need to talk about us."

"I know," he said.

She was so surprised by his casual agreement that she was momentarily speechless. His mouth curved slightly as he took her arm and steered her along a side street, away from the crowds of revelers.

She shoved her gloved hands into the pockets of her coat and slanted him a sidelong glance. His expression was as enigmatic as ever, but she sensed something going on beneath the surface.

She had come to know him better than she had realized during these past few weeks. And much of what she now knew for certain verified her initial impression. Her instincts had been right that first day. The cool, self-contained veneer was a cover for the deep passions, the unyielding determination, and the rock-solid strength that was at the core of this man. If Sam Gage gave you his word of honor, you could take it to the bank.

If Sam Gage ever said he loved you, you could depend on that love forever.

Commitments like that were dangerous things. Sam probably knew that better than anyone else, she thought. Maybe that was why he was so cautious about making them in the first place.

She decided to take the plunge.

"Sam, about our marriage—"

"I don't want an MC," he said bluntly.

That brought her to an abrupt halt in the middle of the sidewalk. She stopped and swung around to face him. "You've changed your mind?"

"Yes." He watched her with unreadable eyes. "It won't work. I can't handle it."

Despair jolted through her. "You can't handle it? But you're the one who suggested it in the first place."

"It was a mistake. I think I knew it all along, but after what happened in the ruins, I'm sure of it."

"I see." She did not know what to say. This was not how she had anticipated the conversation would end. "I thought that after what had happened, you might feel differently, but I didn't realize—"

"A marriage-of-convenience will drive me crazy," he interrupted. "I don't want—"

He broke off suddenly as a goblin-masked figure in a long black coat stepped out of the shadows. Light gleamed wickedly on a mag-rez gun.

"I'd say trick or treat," Leon Drummond growled behind the hideous mask. "But you haven't got a choice. You're going to get the trick, whether you want it or not."

Virginia caught her breath. Drummond ignored her. She could see the baleful glitter of his eyes through the holes in the mask. His attention was focused on Sam.

"I'm surprised you're still hanging around, Drummond," Sam said. "Wyatt's got men out looking for you."

"You sonofabitch, you screwed up everything," Leon hissed. "We were nearly finished. Two more days and we would have shut down the operation with no one the wiser. The museum wouldn't have missed the pieces we took until the next full audit. But Ewert had to call you in, and you ruined the whole damned project."