“This is not the time!” Hildebrand hisses.
“You stay the hell away from my family,” Jericho tells Carlton, shifting one of his hands to wrap around Carlton’s neck.
“She’s not your family just yet,” Carlton taunts stupidly. “And since she will still have Bishop blood running through her veins, I don’t assume she’ll become that anytime soon.” I swear he’s trying to egg Jericho on. Even as he begins to choke trying to catch his breath.
“You god damned piece of shit,” Jericho starts.
“Get him off!” Hildebrand orders and two more guards arrive but before they can grab hold of Jericho, Ezekiel moves toward him, shoving one of the men who has hold of his brother away.
“Brother,” he says. “He’s right. Now is not the time.”
Jericho’s nostrils flare and I can see the effort it’s taking him to not kill Carlton.
“Jericho,” Ezekiel says more forcefully. Jericho closes his eyes, loosens his grip.
But Carlton doesn’t get it. “Not that being family would keep her safe. I mean, look at Zoë. Or your father.” Carlton’s grin is a hateful, ugly thing as he shifts his gaze to Ezekiel.
When Jericho closes his fist this time, he squeezes. I watch Carlton’s face go red. His eyes bulge. I scream, stumbling backward, my flowers falling to the floor.
“Go,” Ezekiel commands urging me in the direction of the chapel.
“You don’t know anything about my family,” Jericho growls.
I can’t move, and the moment seems to play out in slow motion. Jericho choking Carlton, Carlton’s face, his eyes looking so wrong.
“Enough!” Hildebrand calls out and it takes four of them to drag Jericho off. Four men the size of Jericho to free Carlton. They keep hold of Jericho as Carlton slumps against the wall, sputtering, choking, hand around his throat where I can see Jericho’s fingerprints. It takes him long minutes to stand upright but he does it and stupidly he steps toward Jericho who lunges like some trapped animal.
I scream again but the men have him and Carlton grins. Just grins. “Violence is all your family knows, isn’t it? Your father taught you well,” he taunts.
Around us a crowd has gathered. I look at all the faces, many masked, staring at us, enjoying the spectacle. Certainly no one is stopping it.
“Gentlemen!” Hildebrand says through clenched teeth as he tries to take control of the situation. “This is not a zoo. We are not animals. You’ll both be reprimanded for this spectacle but now is not the time.” He turns to Carlton. “Bishop!”
Carlton’s gaze snaps to Hildebrand.
“Out!” he spits.
“I just came to—”
“Out!” Hildebrand orders and his men move toward my brother who puts his hands up, making a show of backing away. When my brother is gone, he takes one look at me then turns to Jericho. “Are you ready? I need to bear witness, as you know, and I don’t have all night.”
Bear witness. Something about the way he says it makes my skin crawl.
Jericho takes a deep breath in, grits his teeth, and pulls free of the men holding him. He locks eyes with Ezekiel. “I need a word with my brother.”
Hildebrand studies them, then lets it go. When he’s gone, I’m left with the brothers and, beyond them, the collection of onlookers who are pretending not to watch.
“What the hell are you thinking bringing Angelique here?” Jericho demands.
Ezekiel may be the only man on earth who isn’t cowed by that tone. By the menace in it. By the energy crackling off Jericho’s body. And where I would have backed away, he steps toward his brother, the challenge clear. “It’s your wedding day. Don’t you think your daughter should be a part of it?”
Jericho didn’t want his own daughter here? It makes sense, doesn’t it? Considering.
“You don’t decide those things. And now you leave me with a mess to clean up.”
The brothers study one another for a long, long moment before Jericho finally turns to me, expression strained as he looks me over. Without a word he takes hold of my arm and walks me unceremoniously toward the chapel.
I wonder about my brother’s visit. His ability to cause so much disruption, wreak such havoc. That was his intention, wasn’t it? He knows how to get under Jericho’s skin. Just get near his family. His daughter. She is his weakness. Carlton wouldn’t hurt her to punish him, would he? No. I can’t believe that. But what about the disappeared Bishop girls? And the comment about not being safe even if you are family? And mostly, what of Jericho’s rage? I think he could have murdered my brother today and that terrifies me.
But before I can consider any of that, Ezekiel opens the chapel door and Jericho marches me to the altar. No walk down the aisle for me. No soft music. Nothing but the once comforting smell of incense overwhelming my senses as I’m pushed once again to my knees before the altar, this time a cushion softening the impact as I speak the words that will bind me to Jericho St. James forever.
However long my forever will be.
27
Jericho
I watch her throughout the brief ceremony. I have Hildebrand to thank for the brief part. Father John wanted a full mass said. Good for the soul, I believe was his argument. He can go fuck himself. And so can Hildebrand and so can every other man out there who witnessed the spectacle Carlton Bishop orchestrated so perfectly. Even recruiting my brother and myself as unlikely actors.
Fucking asshole.
And what the hell did he mean mentioning Zoë and my father. I should have broken his nose just for speaking my sister’s name.
As far as my father’s accident, it wasn’t one. I’m sure of it. Bishop had a hand in killing him. I know he did. Even if Santiago De La Rosa finds no evidence, I know it in my gut. My father was murdered. His car skidding off the edge of a mountain road like it did? It’s too fucking convenient. All evidence lost. Car and man burnt to a fucking crisp.
No. I don’t buy it. He was murdered. And the whole thing stinks of Carlton Bishop.
Isabelle’s low voice murmuring the Lord’s prayer along with Father John brings me back to the here and now.
I glance at her. My beautiful, innocent bride. She’s simply dressed in the gown my mother wore for her wedding to our father. The gown is a white silk that is designed with the marking ceremony in mind with the single button closure on the neck holding the silk in place.
That brings me to thoughts of my mother. Did she know what my father would do? Did she know he meant to open the dress and brand her publicly? Did she then bow her head of her own accord, tears drowning her as she touched her lips to his shoe to say the words required of her? To make her pledge and bestow upon him the power of lord and god.
Isabelle glances at me, her lips ceasing their mutterings. The prayer has ended. In her eyes I read her questions but there is a stillness to her. A quiet. She had it that first night too, when she sought shelter in this very chapel before those men entered. Before I stepped out of the shadows where I’d been sitting watching her. Was it a stroke of fate that carried her in here that night? That let me observe her before she even knew of my existence.
Beauty and her devil. She, innocent in that feather dress. Me, cloaked and masked, horns curling to high heaven. A terror to behold.