The Fangover (The Fangover 1)
Page 33“It is strange that everyone in the band blacked out,” he finally said.
She nodded.
“But you blacked out, too.”
“Maybe I was just collateral damage. Maybe I wasn’t meant to get whatever you got.”
“That is an interesting thought,” he admitted, realizing Katie might have a valid point. It was strange they all blacked out. At Johnny’s wake. And Johnny’s actual death was the strangest part of all. “We all found Johnny’s sudden suicide damned odd. He wasn’t upset or depressed or acting unusual in any way. At least not that I saw.”
“I realize I didn’t know him that well, but I was surprised, too. Johnny always struck me as the type of guy who didn’t sweat the small stuff.”
He didn’t. Johnny loved being a vampire. He loved being a drummer. He loved living in New Orleans and living the constant party. His suicide definitely didn’t make sense, so the more Cort thought about it, the more Katie’s idea that someone wanted to hurt them made sense.
But who?
“I know we didn’t need another potential mystery.” Katie offered him a weak smile.
No, they didn’t. Although in his mind, he sort of felt like they basically knew the truth about their personal mysteries. Whether they liked it or not.
And he felt oddly accepting of both. He’d bitten Katie and married her. Two things he’d vowed never to do again. And he’d broken his promises to himself with a woman he didn’t know all that well. But even looking at her now, he felt like he knew her.
Like he was supposed to be with her.
But he returned his attention to this theory of hers. It really might have merit, but where did they start to find out about this new mystery?
Katie deserved to know why she was a vampire. He did think it was at his hands—or rather fangs, but why? And did they simply marry because he drunkenly felt obligated to take care of the new vampire he’d created?
He looked at Katie. She worried her lower lip again, although stopped when she noticed his gaze falling to her lips.
Yes, he would have married her for that reason. He would, even coherent and sober, he realized. He needed to protect and care for her. He didn’t know why, but he did know that. Period.
“Yes, I guess talking to the priest would be the next best step.” She sounded less than excited about that idea.
Of course, the fact that he’d felt marrying her was the right thing to do didn’t mean she felt the same way. In fact, the dread in her voice was an indication she didn’t feel even remotely the same way. And why would she? Again, he suspected none of this had been her choice.
Still, he felt a little hurt by her obvious reluctance to talk to the priest. But there was no way in hell he was going to show her that. He’d just stay focused on finding out the facts and then handling the annulment or whatever they needed to do to set her free. She’d probably already been made a vampire against her will. He wasn’t going to try to push marriage on her because of his own sense of responsibility.
“Well, let’s go,” Cort said, keeping his tone impassive, businesslike. “Hopefully the priest is still there, and we can wake him and find out what he knows.”
“Do you really think he married us?” she asked.
“It seems like the most likely conclusion,” he said, deciding he wasn’t going to sugarcoat it. She probably wanted to be reassured that maybe they weren’t married, but like it or not, he suspected the passed-out priest, or whatever denomination he was, had done the deed and they were hitched.
She nodded.
“So let’s head there, and maybe we can find out how to get this situation rectified.”
She nodded again and started down Burgundy in the direction of his apartment. Neither spoke the several blocks before they reached Toulouse, the street he lived on. But just as they were about to turn the corner, someone called out to them.
They both turned to see an older couple waving to them from the other side of the street.
“Do you have any idea who they are?” Cort murmured out of the corner of his mouth.
“Not a clue,” Katie said even as she waved at them. The older couple beamed back, waited for a car to pass, then dashed across the street.
“How are our favorite newlyweds tonight?” the woman asked, giving both of them a brief hug, which neither Cort nor Katie returned with the same enthusiasm.
The man grinned, then hugged Katie, too. He offered Cort his hand, much to Cort’s relief.
“I can’t believe you two are headed back to Bourbon,” the woman said. “I figured you would both need at least a day or two to recuperate. Ah, to be young again. Isn’t that right, Ed?”
Ed nodded.
Cort got the feeling that’s what Ed did. Agree.
“Well, we are a little . . .” Cort didn’t know what to call it exactly.
“Hungover,” Katie said, clearly deciding to go with the truth.
“You know what they say,” the woman said and patted Katie’s arm, “hair of the dog. Hair of that dog.”
“We’ve tried,” Katie told her.
Katie looked down as if she were being held by a tentacle rather than an older woman’s arm clad in a crocheted sweater.
“We were actually headed—to my—headed home,” Cort corrected himself. After all, they did think they were happy newlyweds. It might seem odd if he referred to his apartment. Then again, he couldn’t exactly say why it mattered what total strangers thought of their living situation.
“Oh, just a quick drink with your matron of honor,” the woman insisted.
“Matron. Of. Honor?” Katie said, not keeping the shock off of her face.
Betty’s eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you forgot. We had such a good time.”
“No—I—I didn’t forget. The night is just a little bit of a blur.”
Betty smiled, seemingly pleased with that answer. Cort supposed being sort of forgotten was better than totally forgotten.
“So now you see, you have to come have a drink with us,” Betty stated. “Ed, tell them to join us.”
Again, obedient Ed did as he was told. “Yes, join us.”