Free The Bride Wore Black by Ally Gray

button on her headset.
    “And we’re go for the bride. Cue the bats.”
    Dozens of very authentic-looking fake bats dropped out of a hidden net on the ceiling, their solar panels causing their wings to flap due to the light from the sconces. They fluttered around overhead while the guests looked on in impressed but skeptical awe. Cat beamed at the way her dream wedding was taking place, and for his part, Dog looked as enraptured as any groom ever had at the sight of his bride approaching the altar. The fact that it was a faux-stone altar meant for a human sacrifice only detracted from the romance of the moment by a little bit. The real ick factor took place when the bride and groom skipped the traditional unity candle and instead held a wooden stake together and drove it straight through an actual heart, acquired earlier that day from the butcher shop by one unlucky intern.
    “I gotta hand it to you, Stace, this has been one of our better moments,” Tori said, coming up beside her now that the bride and groom were facing the applauding gathering of undead guests, complete with costumes and makeup.
    “Are you high?” Stacy repeated, throwing Tori’s own words back at her. “This has been a nightmare, complete with creatures from actual nightmares! Look at this place!”
    “Yeah, but it’s been wild! Sure, the Southern belles and their stuffy traditions are our bread and butter, but this… this is about really getting married the way you want to, without all those fancy trappings. All dead people and ghosts aside, this is what love is all about.”
    “I’ll go so far as to plant a maybe on that one,” Stacy agreed. “They sure do look happy. And far be it from us to judge, but I bet they really will enjoy telling people about this someday.”
    On the stroke of midnight, the bride and groom descended the stairs to make their getaway. Cat threw her bouquet of dead roses, which no one dared to catch due to a fear of being poked by the prominent thorns. They drove off in their chauffeured hearse, and the remaining guests who’d managed to last until twelve dispersed to their cars.
    “Okay, where do we go get a drink in this hick town?” Jeremiah asked after the last guest had left. “I need my customary shot of forget-it-all sauce.”
    “Hey! This isn’t a hick town,” Corey piped up, feigning offense, “even if the only place to get a bite to eat or drink is at my grandfather’s restaurant, Chicken Lips.”
    “You’re Jebbie’s grandson?” Jeremiah demanded.
    “Sure! How do you think I knew to keep an eye on y’all? Grandpa called me up and told me you were asking after Miss Agnes, so I knew there’d be trouble. There’s always a little bit of trouble where she’s concerned.”
    “Well, I wasn’t about to let this golden opportunity go to waste,” Stacy said, gesturing to the foyer where the wait staff had set up a bar. “How often do we get to party with the undead?”
    They moved several tables and chairs into the parlor and set about toasting the event, raising their glasses to everything from the near crime of kidnapping Jeremiah and Corey to the look on Mrs. Davenport’s face when her picture was taken with a gargoyle that she’d given birth to.
    “And I’d like to offer a piece of toast… to Miss Agnes,” Tori said, raising her glass to the ceiling and causing eyebrows to go up around room.
    “Wait a minute, I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts,” Stacy said, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
    “I’ve changed my mind. Agnes and I are tight.” Tori threw back her shot of bourbon and pounded her chest once with her fist in a gesture of solidarity with the dead woman. The lights flickered overhead and went out for a moment as she did so, causing everyone to hold their breath until an electrician called from outside that he’d unplugged the wrong rigging box.
    “Oh, why the long face, Jeremiah?” Stacy asked. “Aren’t you having fun?”
    “It’s still not