The Winter Wedding
Fiction by Briana Wagner
“I cannot fathom why someone would have a wedding outdoors at the start of December,” Rhonda groaned. Her face was barely visible sandwiched between a generously sized scarf and the fur-lined hood of her coat. Normally she liked to dress up “classy “for these kinds of events, and she was put off both by the chill in the New Jersey air and the feeling she looked like an overpuffed marshmallow in all her winter gear. She had given up on the requested dress code entirely, in fact, and was simply wearing layer upon layer to keep herself warm.
Her companion shook her head, blonde hair puffing out from beneath her own hood. Penny was a friend of the family, and Rhonda had been thrilled to find her already seated when she arrived. Someone sane to talk to! “To save money, I suppose?” She pulled a few handwarmers out of her purse. “I don’t know if I’ll even make it to the reception. It’s a half hour drive from here, and in the parents’ backyard! They won’t even let us in the house. I heard they rented port-a-potties!”
Rhonda looked appropriately shocked. “Well, I certainly hadn’t heard that!”
“Oh, don’t be so critical,” another woman interjected, as she shuffled into the row of white folding chairs behind them. She was wearing an actual hat, a wide brim fascinator in a deep purple, and Rhonda gave it a look of approval. The woman’s husband was looking studiously at the program. “They’re so young. They have to save funds where they can. Remember what it was like to be young and in love, Frank, barely a cent to our names?”
“Yes, dear,” he said, glancing at her fondly. “But we got married in the courthouse. We didn’t have all this pomp in the snow.”
“It’s not snowing! You lot are so negative. I love a good wedding. I’m sure it will be beautiful.” She couldn’t help but add a last jab, “You didn’t have to come if you don’t want to be here. As they like to say online, ‘It’s an invitation, not a summons.’”
Rhonda sniffed. She had considered RSVP’ing no to this fiasco. But then her niece, the cousin of the bride, had told her that if she wasn’t feeling up to it because of her age, everyone would understand, and it was quite all right if she chose to stay home, no offense would be taken at all, and, well, she wasn’t old! She was an aunt, not the grandmother of the bride! So here she was in gloves and a giant coat with thermals under her pants, feeling all bunchy and bulky. She could be festive with the best of them!
At the front, a group of girls frothy in lace and tulle stood huddled together for warmth. Mini dresses showed off their long legs, and only one had opted for tights. They weren’t going to let something so mundane as the weather get in the way of their aesthetic.
“I can’t believe Brooke is getting married!” one squealed.
“He’s so hot,” another agreed, not caring whether it was an appropriate comment or not. After all, he was. “Where did they meet again?”
“Online, I think. I heard it was a bit of a whirlwind romance.” Ashley always gave the best tea. “Practically no one has met him. I think Savannah had lunch with them once. She said both of them barely touched their food and she felt like a cow. Lucky she gets to be a bridesmaid.” She sighed in abject jealousy. She wanted the chance to do wedding things, and Brooke hadn’t even had a bachelorette party! The rest of them wouldn’t be married for years at the rate their relationships were going.
Another shrugged. “We don’t get together as much since we graduated. Super hard when we all have our big-girl jobs.” She picked up a pretty little muff and went to pose by a sign displayed on an easel: “Welcome to the Wedding of Brooke and Albert,” surrounded by a Victorian floral border. With the late afternoon lighting and the old-timey winter vibes, the pictures from this this event were going to be amazing. She gave a little pout and took her first selfie.
In the small suite set aside for the bridal party, Savannah was alone. She fastened an elegant gold chain around her neck and twisted her head side to side to admire the effect in the ornate floor-length mirror. Brooke had asked her to wear a deep red gown with a V-neck, and this jewelry. Personally she thought silver might have gone better with the winter theme, but Brooke wanted gold—and it had all been a gift, the necklace, the earrings, the bracelet. She wasn’t going to say no to free! Still, she had a silver anklet she always wore since her grandmother had passed it off to her. No one would notice it beneath her dress.
Distantly she could hear the sounds of another wedding in the venue wrapping up, a group that had booked the indoor space. Tinkling laughs and the heavy treading of feet as people started heading home, some of them clearly drunk. Brooke and Albert had met at this spot, admiring the view and the foliage from the gardens last fall. That was why they wanted it outside. It was sentimental.
She touched up her lipstick one last time and then went to find Brooke. “Ten minutes!” she called. There was no wedding planner, so as the sole bridesmaid, Savannah felt obliged to keep things on track.
“I’m ready!” Brook said, poking her head out of the adjoining room. She was stunning in a dream-like ballgown covered in opalescent beads, elbow length gloves to match and a veil that touched the floor. Savannah couldn’t imagine what it had cost; it had felt rude to ask.
“Ready ready?” Savannah asked. She peered into the room over Brooke’s shoulder. “Anything we need to bring? You have your bouquet?” The muffin she had brought her friend earlier sat untouched on a table. It must be nerves. Or anticipation.
“Of course!” Brook plucked the bouquet off a counter, red and white roses with a sprig of myrtle, and waltzed out of the room like a vision, shutting the door smartly behind her. To Savannah it looked like closing the door on her old life.
The women walked together to the back of the building, where Brooke’s parents and Alfred’s brother were already waiting. Savannah had met Timothy briefly that morning, but otherwise the man she was to process down the aisle with was a mystery to her. Well, he seemed nice enough. He hadn’t laughed at the few polite jokes she’d tried to make, but one couldn’t have everything.
“This way, darling. It’s almost time.” Brooke’s mother was fussing with her veil. “Make sure you don’t trip. You remember I nearly fell down the stairs at my wedding. Well, not remember, of course, but I’ve told you. I don’t know how even the ground is here. I think they’ve just laid down a carpet.” She peered off toward the ceremony set-up.
“She’ll be fine. Everything will go beautifully. Oh, is everyone here? The guests, I mean?” Savannah asked, as she followed the older woman’s gaze. Brooke’s side was nearing full, but Alfred’s was a bit sparse. She hoped they wouldn’t have to wait for anyone.
“Alfred and I have a small family,” Timothy interjected. He barely looked at the chairs. “They’re all here.”
“Ah,” said Savannah. She was spared from making any further comment by the start of the music. She scrambled to stand behind Brooke’s parents and lock arms with Timothy. Goodness! The man felt cold even through his suit sleeve. She wondered how long he had been waiting outside. “But where is Alfred?”
“Here. Don’t worry about it,” said Timothy. So with one last grin at Brooke, Savannah was walking down the aisle.
“Oh, it’s starting!” Ashley excitedly hit the arm of the girl closest to her, then realized she should be filming for posterity. She scrambled for her phone. Alfred wasn’t standing up front with the minister yet, so she hadn’t realized it was time. Brooke’s parents were first, so apparently her father wouldn’t be giving her away. Her mom’s dress didn’t look too “mother of the bride.” Ashley approved.
“No flower girl?” someone asked, craning her head to look. “Flower girls are so cute. I always wanted to be one.”
“No, no children here at all.”
Ashley huffed in exasperation as Savannah came into view, arm locked with the best man’s. Her dress was gorgeous. Such a lovely red, and draped so flatteringly. She could have been wearing that dress if Brooke had had more than one bridesmaid.
And, finally, Brooke. Alfred was with her, which Ashley hadn’t been expecting. They walked arm in arm together, looking like a couple straight from a fairytale. Ashley zoomed in on the lovestruck gazes they were giving each other and sighed.
Rhonda’s toes were possibly frozen right to her shoes, but otherwise the wedding was going fine. The processional order was a bit unconventional, but that just gave her one more thing to gossip about later. Walking in with your groom instead of your father. Is that what the youth were doing these days?
Brooke was glowing. Well, she actually looked a bit pale, if one could tell in this dying light, but she should have been glowing. Her gown was clearly expensive. And the jewelry! Rhonda didn’t think Brooke’s parents could afford all that. The groom must be richer than she thought. She wasn’t sure what that meant for the theory the setting was all to save money.
The sentimental woman behind her didn’t seem troubled. In fact, she was practically sobbing with joy as Brooke and Alfred recited their vows. “I, Alfred, take you, Brooke, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish,” Alfred intoned. And of course Brooke stated the same. Rhonda was just hoping this meant the ceremony would soon be over. The minister, some man who seemed to have been dredged up for the ceremony and did not have any particular connection with either of the families, had not been garrulous thus far, and she prayed he would not be inspired to give a speech now. Surely he wanted to get inside just as much as the rest of them.
“I now pronounce you man and wife!”
Savannah stood a few steps behind Brooke, dutifully arranging the bride’s train on the little dais and then holding her bouquet. She snuck a quick glance at the girls in the front and grinned. No one had tripped on the way down the aisle, and everything looked perfect. The minister talked a bit about love and the beauty of marriage, but it wasn’t really a religious ceremony. There was nothing about God. Savannah zoned out a bit, letting his voice turn to a buzzing in the background, and focused on the bride and groom.
The sun was lower in the sky now, and it was glinting red in Alfred’s eyes. Strange shadows began to play on the ground. She stared at them a moment, the shadows from the wedding arch, covered in roses that matched the bouquets, and the minister. She could see her own. In the back of her mind she had the itching sense that something wasn’t right. And as the maid of honor, surely it was her job to fix it. She looked up at Brooke and Alfred again. Then Timothy. She assumed he had the rings. Was that it? She had never asked. The buzzing of the minister grew louder. Timothy produced a ring box, and the happy couple exchanged them. So that wasn’t the problem. The pit in Savannah’s stomach grew larger as she glanced back at the ground. Where was Brooke’s shadow? She shuffled awkwardly from side to side, thinking it must be mingled with her own. But, then, where was Alfred’s?
The minister’s voice broke through the cold of her fear. “You may now kiss the bride!”
“At last!” Rhonda mumbled as the ceremony concluded. Ostensibly it was a comment to herself, but she said it loudly enough that others could catch her disapprobation. It hadn’t truly been a long wedding, but it had felt long in this weather. She frowned up at the dais. The maid of honor, Savannah the program had said, had been doing an odd little dance before. “She’s fidgety,” she had observed to Penny, shaking her head.
“Maybe she’s trying to get warm,” Penny had whispered back. “They should have given her a shawl.”
But now the girl wasn’t dancing. She was backing slowly toward the far end of the dais, apparently oblivious that she would have to be handing Brooke her bouquet back soon. She was going to fall straight off the far end if she weren’t careful.
“Whoo!” Brooke’s friends cheered and clapped as the couple kissed. They already had plans to clink their spoons against their glasses as much as possible at the reception, to be just slightly annoying and over-the-top.
The recessional music began softly from the pianist in the back, and it seemed to be a cue for Brooke and Alfred to break apart. One of the girls glanced at the others. “So we get food soon, right? I’m starving.”
The groom’s gaze cut to her immediately, and she blanched as she realized she must have been louder than she intended. Of course she hadn’t come just for the food! Such a rude thing for her to imply. She licked her lips nervously, but didn’t know what to make of the fact Alfred seemed to be doing the same.
“Yes!” he shouted suddenly, clapping his hands together and moving swiftly off the dais. Brooke was left behind as he advanced toward the guests. A bit odd, thought Ashley, still watching the scene through her phone’s camera. Weren’t the bride and groom and the whole wedding party supposed to walk back down the aisle? And where was Savannah anyway?
“Yes, I am ravenous! All of us. My beautiful wife. My family. It is why we have prepared such an excellent meal, in such an excellent location.”
The whole group of girls shifted, huddled together as they noticed the groom’s family, small as it was, walking toward them, too.
“Are you, um, doing pictures first?” Ashley asked, phone screen now filled with Alfred’s mouth.
“No. First, we feed.”
Savannah ran as the first girl screamed. She caught a brief glimpse of Timothy grabbing a girl’s neck as she flung Brooke’s bouquet off into the distance and bolted. There was no time to look more closely. She didn’t want to look, to see whatever horrible thing was happening, the thing that would be coming for her next.
The lights of the building winked at her in the distance, and it rushed back to her how remote this place was, how far away from anyone who could hear her screams, who could help. She cursed as she stumbled over her dress in the grass and hiked it higher. No, not the building. The first place anyone would look was the building. She would run around to the parking lot and her car. Her mind raced for an alternate plan. But her keys were still in her bag in the ready room. And if she couldn’t start the car . . .
“Savannah!”
Savannah did scream then. Brooke sounded so close. She had never been an athlete, and Savannah would not have expected her to be fast in that gown and those heels, but she was catching up. “Leave me alone!” She was afraid to turn around. It would waste time. But she was also scared not to know where Brooke was. “Go away!”
“No one is leaving!”
Her blood ran cold then, hearing Brooke say it like that. But the parking lot was coming into view. If she could push herself a little more . . .
“You can’t go!” And then Brooke was on her, tackling her into the ground.
Savannah fought. In college she had taken a self-defense class, and she never really thought she would have to use it. And everything she had learned rushed right out of her head now that she was in danger. She scratched at Brooke’s arms and head butted her face. She flailed and flopped and kicked. “Get off me!” she snarled.
“Savannah, you can’t leave! But you can join us! You’re my best friend. Stay with us. Forever.” Brooke grabbed for her wrists, and Savannah elbowed her in the face. She wasn’t going to go down like this. She could still hear the other wedding guests screaming in the distance. Were some of them running, as well? Or were Alfred’s family finishing them off? She had the horrible thought one of them might come to help Brooke subdue her, and she struggled harder. Brooke clawed at her neck. “Stay. Still. ARRGH!”
Savannah blinked in shock at the sudden yelp of pain Brooke had released. Had she actually hurt her? The other woman was clutching her leg where Savannah had kicked her, their legs entangling where Brooke’s skirt had bunched up in their brawl. Then she remembered her anklet. The one piece of silver jewelry she had worn when Brooke wanted gold. Frantically, she kicked at her own dress and then dragged the silver chain up Brooke’s leg as she screamed.
Savannah pulled up in front of her apartment and slumped over the wheel of her car. She felt relatively safe in the glow of a streetlight, a few drunk twenty-somethings still awake and drifting down the sidewalks. She doubted she would ever feel truly safe again though. Like a mad woman she scrabbled for her phone to call 911 – she hadn’t thought of it when she’d managed to push Brooke off and leave her keening on the ground, her leg blistering with burns— but then she deflated all over again.
What was she going to say when the police realized that half the guests at a wedding were dead, and the other half, just the groom’s side, missing? When they realized she was the only survivor. And told them the bride and groom had been vampires.
Briana Wagner has an MA in English literature from the University of California, Davis. She currently works in the insurance industry and as a freelance proofreader. While she has lived in several states across the US, she currently resides in Michigan.
