Book One of the Shulim Cycle
Marilyn stood in the light of the windows around her. The sunlight danced lightly along the white dress with its long train laid out carefully along the floor behind her. Her hair was pulled back into a white lace veil that she had pulled back off of her face. Underneath the veil the jeweled tiara sparkled in the sunlight.
Devon stepped into the room and looked down at the baby’s breath and rice that was strewn around the floor. He looked up again and found his breath taken away. As he moved closer her hair seemed to pick up more of the light, glowing like gold thread.
“You look beautiful,” Devon said. Marilyn lifted her hand to her cheek and turned to face him.
“Thank you,” she said. Outside, music began playing. It was Pacabel’s Canon. The guests were being seated in the chairs that had been set up.
He walked over to Marilyn and kissed her softly on the lips. There was the barest hint of a perfume on her that was intoxicating, though he could not place it. The kiss became more passionate and lingered for a moment. Devon broke pulled away and stood back to look at her fully in the golden light of the windows.
“Pete’s a very lucky man,” Devon said.
As he stood there and looked at her, Marilyn began crying silently, the tears running down her cheeks. She wiped them away.
“I can’t keep doing this,” she said. She brought her hands down, gesturing to her torso. The white dress with its sparkling trim began to turn red, starting from a short thin line and expanding out in a circle. Marilyn turned pale and she looked up at him, her face twisted in pain.