33: Rings

The slain deer looked heavenward, the white velvet of her gown and her horns of bone accented in blood red. The opulent crow hovered at the top of the stairs, dripping with feathers and black beads. They stood gazing at each other for the space of a breath. Then the familiar strains of Mazzy Star's "Fade Into You" filled the hall and they began to walk.

Daria restrained the urge to adjust her horns, as she was acutely aware of assorted flappers and Frankensteins watching her enter the gathering space where nuns had once held morning prayers and, more recently, the Order of the Silken Gerbil had stayed up all night waiting for aliens. She saw that Jane was descending the staircase very carefully to avoid stepping on her feathered train and slowed to a similar pace.

They reached the bare white tree that served as the round room's focal point at nearly the same time. Andrea was a sort of moon goddess outlined in black before the ghostly tree, two silver crescents nearly meeting in an orb above her head. She pulled a slim notebook from the gauzy folds of her gown, made an attempt to smile at the assembled family and friends, and began to speak. "Dearly beloved hostages on this brief mortal plane, welcome. Before you are two women who were perhaps always destined to be together. From forced physical fitness at Lawndale High, through building their website together in Boston, and back home again for their wedding, Daria and Jane have shown us what disgustingly true love looks like." There were a few titters from the audience. "And now we can all stop asking the question: Why don't you two just do it already?" This earned Andrea genuine laughter, and she suppressed a grin (a real one this time).

Daria would remember the rest of the ceremony as a haze of joy, punctuated by a reading of Baudelaire by the Maid of Honor—Quinn dressed as a bluebird—and the sweet thrill of slipping a wedding ring onto her new wife's hand.

Before she knew it, Man (or rather Goat) of Honor Trent was pulling an acoustic guitar from behind the tree and playing the brides down the aisle. It was a pretty tune without words that no one in the crowd had ever heard, because Trent had written it a week before for Jane and Daria.

They were holding onto each other's hands for dear life when they reached the end of the aisle, where Vincent suddenly popped up from behind the final row of guests holding a dropped film canister (Jane's father maintained that digital photography was for dilettantes). Jane jumped and exclaimed, "Shit!" over the music, at which point Vincent quickly snapped a photo.

"That's going to be a good one," he remarked quietly as he pulled down the brim of his safari hat.

Jane gave him a wry smile and a little hug. "Where did Mom go?" He gestured toward the center of the room, where Amanda was handing out an armful of wildflowers she'd apparently retrieved from somewhere as the ceremony was coming to an end. On her head she wore an overturned vase that spilled daisies and petunias into her hair and over her shoulders.

Daria leaned closer to Jane and muttered, "How is that staying?"

Suddenly, Brittany appeared in front of them dressed in a sort of superhero lingerie and squeaked, "DAria! Jane! I am soooo happy for you." She wrapped one of them and then the other in a busty hug.

They had barely extricated themselves from the bouncy castle of Brittany's embrace when Frankenstein and his bride—also known as Jake and Helen—approached with wide smiles. Amanda completed the parental party as Brittany pivoted and was absorbed into conversation with Quinn and her date, Jeffy.

Helen reached up to Daria's horned headpiece and smoothed down a few tangled strands of hair. "Congratulations, girls. We couldn't be happier."

Jake wrapped an arm around Helen's waist and chimed in, "Yeah! And this is quite a hall, too."

Amanda nodded slowly with a faraway look in her eyes. "Oh, yes," she said dreamily, "back when I was with the commune, we used this gathering space for everything."

Daria and Jane traded uneasy looks. Suddenly, Daria brightened and looked at Helen. "Did they ever hold a bean exchange with your commune, Mom?"

Helen's eyes narrowed. "If anything, we would have exchanged bread recipes." She shuddered and Jake rubbed her arm. As if on cue, a waiter appeared beside Helen with a tray of champagne glasses and she snatched one gratefully. Cocktail hour had begun.

Jane took Daria's hand and announced, "Well, time to mingle with some guests."

As they walked away from their little family group, Daria asked incredulously, "You wanted to mingle?"

"Hell, no. I wanted to check out this fortress of weird-itude with you, if you're up for it."

"Oh. That's my kind of mingling."

Soon they were wandering seemingly endless hallways with glasses of wine they'd snagged on their way out of the gathering space. After opening a handful of random doors—with a shag-carpeted meditation chamber and a room full of preserved birds in flight among their discoveries—they reached a wide wooden staircase leading to a dimly-lit basement. Daria took a sip from her much-depleted glass of red wine and nudged Jane with a twinkle in her eye. "Should we check it out, or do you want to save all the murder for the honeymoon?"

Jane appeared to mull this over, then said, "Screw it, let's go down there. I can die happy now that we're married." With a sweet kiss, they descended the stairs.

Aside from a ludicrously large bar with an assortment of some of the strangest liquors they'd ever seen ("Yak Flower—Illegal in Finland"? Jane had wrinkled her nose), the basement's main attraction was a hot tub spacious enough to accommodate a baseball team. As they passed beneath the stucco arch and approached the tub, they saw by the light of a stained glass light fixture that it was empty.

Daria released Jane's hand and crossed to a massive mahogany armoire, then pulled open the heavy carved doors in one fluid motion. She turned around with a quizzical look on her face and a sheet of paper in her hands. Daria read aloud, "Spring Rite of the Frolicsome Boar." Her eyes continued to flick across the page, then she looked up a Jane and said quietly, "We are standing on tainted ground."

Jane swiftly closed the distance between them, cradled the pale deer's face in her hands, and kissed her. For a moment, Daria's whole world was black feathers and Jane's perfume. Then the shining crow whispered, "Holy water."

Suddenly, an irritated bluebird appeared in the arched entrance and put her hand on her hip. Quinn burst out, "Do you know how big this place is? I've been looking all over for you!" Daria opened her mouth to respond, but Quinn carried on with her monologue. "Mom says she's going to have the caterer sent to Guantanamo Bay for his crimes against spinach puffs, and she's on the edge of a meltdown because dinner is about to start and she can't find you." She flitted over to Daria, took her hand, and proceeded to tow her out of the ceremonial hot tub room with Jane following closely behind.

When they entered they gathering space, the dinner transformation was so overwhelming they had to stop to take it all in. Long black tapers lit the scene, illuminating tables draped in lace and laden with platters of violet macarons and floral arrangements in hues of dark wine. Crows took flight from a towering black cake before the central tree. In awe of Helen's vision, they made their way to the head table she had insisted upon for their small bridal party.

As dinner got underway and they were enveloped in the happy voices of loved ones and the clinking of silverware, Daria had two primary thoughts—one, that she was grateful for all these people who cared about her and Jane; and two, that she couldn't wait to escape this torture pit of excessive attention and be alone with her wife.

The final hurdle standing between Daria and a quiet, dark room was the dance. Once the floor had been cleared and she and Jane had made it through the slightly embarrassing ritual of kicking it off (with a little-known acoustic tune Daria loved), the DJ mercifully turned his attention on the rest of the group.

Daria and Jane were sitting at one of the pushed-aside tables, trying to determine which room had been the site of the attempted cult suicide that ended in horrible diarrhea, when Kay and Angier walked into the hall. The newlyweds fell silent as they watched Angier sweep the room with an imperious gaze and then lead Kay to Tom, Trent and Madeleine.

Although they were too far away to hear the conversation, their body language said it all. The forced smiles on Kay and Angier served to highlight Tom's wariness and Trent's defensive posture as he held Madeleine close. They seemed to be making small talk. Jane suddenly downed her drink and reached for Daria's hand. "Wanna walk over there and save the guys? It looks painful."

Daria replied, "Sure. There are too many spots to stash a body, and we don't want 'the Lane-Morgendorffer wedding murders' overtaking 'failed cult suicide' as the most awful thing that's happened here."

When they reached the little group, they were given hugs and well-wishes by the Sloanes and grateful looks by Trent and Tom. Angier, already attacking what would be the first of many whiskey sours that night, struck up a conversation with, "So! Where are you ladies going on your honeymoon?"

Jane answered, "You know that cabin village in the mountains where everyone got murdered?"

Angier said hesitantly, "I . . . do know it."

Daria continued Jane's explanation. "That's where we're going. They give murder tours, and there's a special for newlyweds."

Kay looked truly surprised for a moment and asked innocently, "Really?"

Just then, a clearly buzzed Quinn appeared next to Trent and Maddy and gently shook the toddler's tiny hand. "Maaa-de-leinne," she said in a sing-song voice, sparking a smile on the tiny face. Soon Quinn was launching into a story about her latest work drama and they were able to make their exit.

An hour later, they were dancing to a slow song by Boys Are Guys that Jane secretly liked when they saw a tipsy Angier approach Jodie. She was dressed as a fortune teller in a hooded velvet cape and heavy silver jewelry, and Angier seemed to be asking her for a palm reading. Jane and Daria both knew that he was a flirtatious ass when drunk and subtly moved closer. Daria could barely make out what he was saying—something about his old fraternity and skinny dipping at a golf course—but she could tell Jodie was getting irritated. As they danced by under the soft purple lights, Jodie took his hand. She turned it over and traced his palm with her finger, then said, "I can see it now." He leaned in closer. Suddenly, she dropped his hand and deadpanned, "Your boathouse is going to burn down."

Jane and Daria wheeled away, laughing until they had to hold each other up and the room became a blur of lavender tears.