Chapter 3
"That ascot is not trying to strangle you, Griffin, no matter how many times you tug on it and threaten its structural integrity."
Nigel Griffin squinted his eyes at James Watson and restrained himself from the urge to stick out his tongue at one of his oldest friends. Watson, of course, stood calm and collected in his formal grey morning suit, white ascot perfect, pale grey silk vest buttoned high over the bulk of his machine.
"James, I think our friend just got too used to a complete lack of formal attire, or any attire, while engaged in...important work." Nikola Tesla grinned, fairly bouncing on his heels, tails flapping on the dove grey formal suit. "I'm sorry Nigel, but Helen won't let you be invisible, or naked, at our wedding. Though the reception might just be a free for all, depends on how much champagne she drinks. I splurged for the really good stuff."
Nigel Griffin sighed heavily, the only thing possible in the face of Nikola Tesla at full throttle. Still it was good to see the man happy. The last time they'd all been together, it was before Normandy, and the world had been madness. Now, things were looking up. Tesla was thrumming with so much energy he looked like he was about to jump over the bloody rose bushes and hunt down his bride and drag her to the altar. "Calm down, Tesla. No matter how much you hop about or how much these bloody suits look like a pigeon costume, you are not about to take flight."
It was Nikola's turn to narrow his eyes and glare meaningfully, his hands coming up to tug on the deep red of his own cravat as though he wished it was Nigel's throat. Nikola opened his mouth to deliver a cutting response, when the odd string music playing in the garden clearing shifted slightly, as though in preparation. Tesla's head whipped around and he grinned at the lion-faced hulk who was going to be the officiant. The calm though intimidating vicar nodded slightly, and led three of Helen's men out from between the rows of roses and through an arbor into a wide clearing filled with benches and a few dozen creatures of every persuasion, some humanoid and some distinctly not. Nigel had seen just about every creature Helen had every brought into her Sanctuary in London, and still he was awed by the diversity of these strange underground society he'd been dragged into.
But really, he had eyes now only for one small human female in the front row, who looked utterly unperturbed by the madness she was surrounded with. His Jeanette smiled at him with a knowing grin and an arched Gallic eyebrow, and he grinned back as he was led into his place at Nikola's side by the simple altar. He couldn't take his eye off of her, his beautiful cheeky French wife. His own wedding had been a rushed chaos in a half bombed out church outside of Paris, him in a jumped and filthy green trousers, Jeanette in drab brown from head to toe, steel toed boots and a bunch of half-wilted daisy's the ancient organ player had thrust into her hands. He was about to head into Germany, and she was not going to let him go without staking her claim on him.
It was not the first time he'd married, but this was going to be the one that counted.
Now, his Jeanie sat demurring in a green silk dress, a hand resting over the curve of her stomach where their child lay underneath. They were starting a new life, him away from thievery and his long English rap sheet, and she away from the Continental politics that had taken all of her family. They were days away from moving to America, there to hide and find a new life where he'd become invisible in an entirely new way. He stopped using his powers at all, intent on living rather than escaping anymore. He could feel the years start to catch up with him - knew that without using his invisibility or borrowing Helen's longevity, he was doomed to finally live a real, honest lifetime. He was ninety nine years old, and it was about time to grow up. He'd seen enough of this bloody world, and was happy to experience a wife and a family and then disappear in the more conventional manner, dying in his bed with his wife beside him. Or under him. Or above him.
Jeanette made it all seem worth it.
"So, tell me Nigel, how's the married life? Should I start running now?"
Nigel turned back to a grinning Nikola, who smiled at Jeanette flirtatiously and nodded at her. She giggled, and Nigel rolled his eyes. It was good to have this Nikola back, the friend from Oxford with the wry sense of humor and the heart on his sleeve. Not the megalomanic with delusions of grandeur. Helen really was a miracle worker.
Nigel found himself quite distressingly honest. "Well, hurting her hurts me more than getting slashed with a knife, but I'm sure you already know that."
Nikola gave a friendly sneer. "Oh, much worse. And I know slashes from the very best." They both knew who had been wielding the knife that had injured them both at various times over the last fifty-odd years. The only member of The Five who was most definitely not invited to this party.
Nigel moved on, not needing Nikola to descend into the wrathful pool of hatred that he wallowed in at the mention of Montague John Druitt. "But truly, the thing that I'm most surprised by is the sex."
Nikola frowned. "What, it gets dull? I can assure you that…"
Nigel laughed. "Oh no, no, no," he gave a wide sinful grin, "It gets better. Something about making a legal commitment in front of other people and all the inhibitions go out the window."
Nikola arched an eyebrow and Nigel could practically see his eyes glaze over at the thought. James cleared his throat, looking half amused and half in pain. Nikola grinned at him ruthlessly.
"If that's the case, she might just kill me. And I'll die happy." He looked at James and narrowed his eyes. "Very happily."
James glowered at him, "Yes well, I'm sure you can understand that while I wish you well in your marriage, I really have no desire to think on that particular benefit."
"Too soon I suppose." He continued grinning ruthlessly, and Nigel rolled his eyes as James grew increasingly pink.
The music paused, and Nigel watched as Nikola seemed to still like a bell about to be chimed, or a glass about to shatter, or the calm before the epic explosion. He hoped that the man would find some outlet for all that energy without erupting into a shower of sparks by the end of the ceremony. Then Nikola spun toward the vine-covered gates at the end of the garden, and Nigel smiled toward Jeanette, laughing softly.
A stately and utterly alien music began, something unlike any wedding march Nigel had every heard, full of percussive chimes and low-pitched flutes that echoed in the giant cavern and seemed like the heavens were singing. The gates opened, and revealed Gregory Magnus, a man missing for five decades, standing proud with his daughter on his arm. And Helen, oh Helen. She was a vision.
Nigel had never been in love with Helen, not like all the others. He loved her, of course he loved her, but she was a sister, a friend, and sometimes more than a little scary in her stern maternal power. But today he could see just what attracted Nikola and James and John to risk the fire of her temper. She was radiant, her skin glowing, her hair long and dark and cascading down her shoulders. And the dress! Red. Crimson red. Some lacy material or other that clung to her shoulders and hips and trailed down into a train that would have been the envy of any Victoria lady, but left her shoulders and neck temptingly bare, with just a hint of a dip into her generous cleavage. She did not look at all like a conventional 1947, or 1888 bride. But she looked like she was celebrating the happiest day of her life, and he'd never seen such a smile on her face. She took a step forward, and Gregory was practically towed along in her wake, she seemed quite determined to get to the end of that aisle.
Nigel turned his head to look at Nikola, and had to suppress the urge to burst out laughing. The man looked utterly gobsmacked, his mouth hanging open, his expression halfway between shock and hunger. James just muttered under his breath with wry amusement, "Oh that woman. Never one to be conventional about anything at all."
Nikola just blinked and watched her approach and breathed out. "No, but she's mine." And a smile to match Helen's blossomed across his face. Happiness looked good on both of them.
Helen's dress, except for the neckline. moorecreativeweddings wp-content/uploads/2016/02/ chinese-style-wedding-dress .jpg