Conform or Suffer: The Darkness of Beauty Full Novel

Chapter 1 The Memory of Cookies

Quig felt the sting of the woman's manicured nails as she slapped him across the face in front of the fourteen wedding guests left. His dove-sized pixie wings fluttered through slits in his muted-green suit.

"It's your fault my niece didn't show. Were you cheating on her?" Quig's runaway bride's aunt slugged him.

The planned celebration was about to be canceled, for the bride hadn't shown, and the young groom was left abandoned, to take the blame.

Paparazzi bolted from their seats and snapped dozens of photos, and the light stung his eyes.

The room circled Quig; the art on the walls blurred together in abstract nightmares, while the string quartet still played quietly in the background, like a soundtrack to his descent.

His ex's Aunt Lana struck him again, and he crashed into a mural of the forest, hand-painted to disguise the uneven patching.

Quig's wings fluttered and ached, and he floated a foot off the ground to avoid the woman's wrath. Paint and violet-colored feathers dropped onto the polished hardwood floor.

He lit the wedding incense to calm himself and the others still in attendance.

Spicy lemon-scented smoke lingered in the air, and the golden flames dimmed and vanished. Puffs of gray essence lifted to the hand-tiled mosaic ceiling and dissipated in an instant, an ominous sign for a home wedding. The ghosts and spirits of his ancestors cursed the wedding, instead of blessing it.

Garlands of blue carnations dripped down from a photography archway, and Quig flew down to avoid them as he entered the massive dining room. He leaned on a hand-carved table. Each of the four legs was artfully carved to resemble a dragon.

Words finally burst through Quig's lips. "Maybe Ann was in an accident." He bumped into one of the art chairs that surrounded the table. He gasped for air as the aroma of the peppery incense hit his lungs.

Lana lunged at him again. "I hope she is bleeding in a ditch. It's bad enough you two decided to hold your wedding at a mutual friend's junky art house. The brownstone is almost as tacky as a shack." Lana stomped after him and shoved a cucumber sandwich into her mouth. Food dribbled out of her overly inflated lips. Her mayonnaise-covered hands raised to strike.

Quig's friend, Grew-Ella, shut the sliding door in the dining room to hide rows of empty chairs in the den. She squeezed next to them, and her brass-colored wings fluttered. Her lightly freckled face appeared tired. "Lana, please, calm down. Your niece begged to have her wedding at my parent's brownstone."

"Hag, if my doctor can take thirty years off my face, he'll fix your schnoz and give you liposuction."

"My name is Grew-Ella."

Lana cleaned herself and twisted her blue hair behind her elf ears and tight face. She took another cucumber sandwich and tossed it at Grew-Ella. "I'll call you whatever I wish to."

The sandwich hit a humanoid wolf woman. Dot shifted into an elf; she resembled a more muscular version of Quig.

"You struck my sister," Quig said.

"Who cares?" Lana grabbed another sandwich and flung it. "I wish it hit your other half-sister instead, weirdo, freak. She keeps predicting terrible thing happening to me. She really can't speak to ghosts."

Dot cleaned herself off with a napkin and approached. "There is nothing wrong with Grew-Ella or her parents' home. Stop whining. Guests keep fleeing because of your tantrums. Though if anyone is to blame, it's Ann, the spoiled brat. Quig is at least twenty years younger than her, but he's a responsible adult."