Fontana's mouth curved faintly, as though he knew precisely what she was thinking.
"Sounds like a great idea," he said, his eyes on Sierra. "A man ought to celebrate his own wedding."
Chapter 7
A LONG TIME LATER, SIERRA SAW FONTANA CHECK HIS watch. She had glanced at the clock on the wall a couple of minutes ago and knew that it was going on nine o'clock. Unfortunately, the Curtain's version of a blowout wedding reception was in full swing and showed no signs of abating. In fact, it had taken on a life of its own after Classifieds had sent out for more beer and Marketing ordered in a second round of pizza.
Sierra was sitting behind her desk, elbows propped on the surface, her chin resting on her hands. Fontana lounged against the side, arms folded. He had asked her to dance earlier, but she had demurred on the twin grounds of the broken heel and incipient bruises. He had not pressed her.
The newsroom was draped in paper streamers and balloons. The trash cans beside each desk were crammed with empty bottles of cheap Spectrum Sparkling Wine, used paper plates, and napkins. The remains of a large, square cake sat on Kay's desk. The letters HAP from the originally inscribed Happy Birthday George were still visible. Kay had explained earlier that due to the extremely short notice, there had been no wedding cakes available at the bakery.
The rez-rock music blasting from the sound system had been cranked up to the point of pain. Desks had been pushed back to make room for the dancers. The lyrics of a current hit song blared forth.
Gonna take my lady underground tonight
We're gonna get rezzed on some hot ghost light
Her four friends from the Green Gate were all happily drunk. Andy was dancing with Liz, the curvy blonde who was Runtley's assistant. Ray Takashima and Kay were talking quietly in the corner. They both appeared completely absorbed in each other. Mitch and Jeff were regaling Phil Trager and the gang from Subscription Services with tales of their old glory days working ghost light down in the catacombs. Matt was finishing off the last bottle of Green Ruin beer. He had long ago abandoned the use of a paper cup.
"Probably not every woman's dream of a wedding reception," Fontana said, studying the scene.
"It was very nice of my friends to throw a party for us," she said, immediately defensive.
Fontana nodded, surprising her. "Yes, it was."
Elvis chose that moment to float past at eye level. Rezzed up on the coffee and cake that he had been sucking down all evening, he was clearly enjoying himself.
"Got a feeling I'm going to be investing heavily in balloons from now on," Sierra said.
"Looks like the bunny was born to fly," Fontana agreed.
Shortly after the second round of cheap wine, Mitch and Phil had hit upon the bright idea of getting Elvis airborne. The plan had involved a light cardboard tray designed to carry paper coffee cups and several of the helium-filled balloons that Kay had brought in to help decorate the newsroom.
The contraption had proved airworthy. Elvis had hopped into the makeshift basket, chortling in delight. With his small weight the miniature airship levitated gently to a height of about six feet off the floor. Delighted with the view from his new vantage point, he had spent most of the evening floating regally among the revelers.
Elvis chortled. Fontana obligingly sent him sailing off in a new direction. Elvis was practically beside himself with glee.
"Something tells me no one is going to miss the bride and groom if we leave," Fontana said.
"I think you're right." Sierra got to her feet. "It's been a long day. To tell you the truth, I'm surprised you hung around as long as you did tonight. It was very nice of you."
His jaw tightened, and his eyes narrowed faintly in response to her polite thanks.
"It's my wedding, too, remember?" he said.
She felt the heat rise in her face. "Well, yes, but since it's not a real wedding, I guess I just assumed you'd leave earlier. This can't be a Guild boss's idea of a good time."
"Shows how much you know about my private life." He straightened from the desk. "I'll get your coat."
"I'll get Elvis."
Elvis allowed himself to be plucked from the balloon's basket and tucked under her arm. When she turned, she saw Fontana waiting at the door with her coat. She thought they might make it out into the hall without anyone noticing, but luck ran out. A shout went up just as Fontana's hand curved around the doorknob.
"They're leaving," Matt announced in a loud voice. "Anyone got rice?"
"No rice," Simon said, "but no worries. We hunters use a different kind of send-off on occasions like this. Isn't that right, guys?"
"Damn right," Jeff declared, the words a little slurred. "This is a Guild wedding. Tradition must be followed."
Andy came to a halt on the dance floor, the blonde cuddled in one arm. "Wouldn't be right if we didn't follow hunter tradition."
Alarm galvanized Sierra. Hunters were very big on tradition, and a lot of those old traditions—dueling, came to mind—were appallingly macho and lamentably ar-chaic. Any hunter tradition dealing with wedding nights could not be good.
"No, that's okay," she said hastily. She raised her free hand in a warding-off gesture. "This is just an MC."
She could have sworn she saw Fontana's jaw twitch.
Jeff leered. "Nobody ever said MCs weren't real weddings." He turned to the crowd. "What do you say, folks? Did the wedding look real to you?"
There was a roar of agreement from the crowd.
"That settles it," Simon announced. "It was a real wedding, all legal and everything. That means we gotta follow tradition. Stand aside, Sierra."
"Why?" she asked, deeply suspicious.
"Just do what the man says," Fontana advised.
Gently he pushed her away from him. She gave ground grudgingly. He took a couple of paces back, putting even more distance between them.
She felt a faint buzz of energy first. A few seconds later there was enough psi swirling in the room to give her goose bumps. Elvis wriggled in the crook of her arm and made excited little sounds.
Four hot balls of ghost fire swirled into existence, each about a foot across. The audience gasped. A low murmur went through the crowd.
"Set fire to my newsroom, and I'll sue the Guild," Runtley warned.
Andy chuckled. "Don't worry, we've got things under control here. This is a test for Fontana."
Deftly manipulated by Jeff, Simon, Andy, and Mitch, the ghosts lined up in a row between Fontana and Sierra.
A fifth ball of energy flared and took its place directly in front of Sierra. Involuntarily, she took another quick step back. She was no expert, but it was obvious that the new ghost was hotter and more tightly wound than the others.
"I'm the best man," Ray said. "Wouldn't be right if I didn't help with the send-off."
"Oh, damn," Sierra said.
Fontana leaned one shoulder against the wall, folded his arms, and contemplated the ghosts as though they were novel inventions he'd never seen before in his life.
"This is for you, Sierra," Jeff explained earnestly. "The boss is going to show that he's worthy of you."
"The only way he gets you is if he gets through our ghosts first," Simon said.
Kay giggled. There was a lot more muffled laughter in the room, mostly from the women.
This was not about proving anything to the bride, Sierra thought. It was about generating a lot of ghost heat. It was common knowledge in certain quarters—hair salons and ladies' restrooms, for instance—that hunters got sexually aroused after working ghost light. It had something to do with the testosterone-heavy, bio-psi hormones that flooded their systems when they used their talents.