In the Company of Vampires

Chapter 18

“Good afternoon, sleepy head. Can I just say how much good it does my ego to know that although you might be Mr. Three Times, such devotion to your duty caused you to sleep like a rock for seven solid hours?”

Ben, looking wonderfully sleepy with mussed hair and manly stubble upon his cheeks, blinked bleary-eyed at me and sat down across from me at the tiny table where I was having lunch. “I woke up and you weren’t there.”

“I woke up about an hour ago. Unlike you, I have to use the bathroom. And I’ve been thinking.”

He ran a hand over his face, blinking at me. “Oh?”

“It’s about Naomi.”

He grimaced.

“Yeah, I feel the same way, but I think we need to talk about her.”

“If it’s about the tyro—”

“No, I told you that I thought you did everything you could to keep that situation under control. It’s about Sweden. Or rather, the attack on you there five years ago. Was Naomi’s group a part of that?”

Ben rubbed his stubbly chin thoughtfully. The sound of his fingers rasping against his whiskers sent little skitters of electricity down my back. “I assume they were. It is a chilling thought to imagine two such groups preying on the therion population of Europe.”

“Right. And since de Marco is . . . Well, I don’t know what he is, other than nasty and badass and he had sex with my mother thirty years ago. But since he’s all that, I say we tackle Naomi.”

Ben shot me a look that said I had orangutans in purple tutus dancing on my head. “Who had sex with your mother?”

“De Marco. Oh! I never told you about that, did I?” I got to my feet and hurried to the bedroom, filling him in on how Peter and I had found the birth certificate. “And you can see right there that his name is Alphonse de Marco.”

Ben examined the birth certificate. “It appears genuine. But your mother?”

“I know. It means I have a half sister, too. Look at the dates, Ben. Mom was sixteen at the time, and this Petra person is nine years older than me, and yet I’ve never heard of her. My grandparents never mentioned her, and there’re no family pictures or anything. Just this.”

“Odd.” Ben stared sightlessly at the paper, his fingers tapping absently on it as he thought. “I wonder if there’s a connection between it and your mother’s disappearance.”

“I thought of that this morning, too,” I said, leaning into him when he wrapped an arm around me. “But I don’t see why he’d want to seduce her. Why now? She’s been kicking around Europe for the last five years, so if he was just waiting for her to come around the area, that doesn’t make sense. And she’s been divorced from my dad for eight years, so if he was waiting for that, it doesn’t fly, either. Not to mention the fact that Mom doesn’t suffer fools gladly, and if she broke up with him once, she probably wants nothing more to do with him.”

“I think we should consider the possibility that perhaps your mother has simply found a man she loves,” Ben said gently, kissing my arm.

Instantly, a dull red throb woke up inside him.

“Hungry?” I asked in my best sex kitten voice.

“For you? Always.”

I slid sideways onto his lap. “I had my breakfast, so I guess it’s only fair you have yours.”

The look in his eyes could have melted cement. “You know what will happen if I feed off you now.”

“Lovemaking so incredibly hot, it’ll banish further references to my toys?”

“Lovemaking so incredibly hot, it’ll make you forget you ever had toys.”

I squirmed delightedly at the thoughts he was sharing. “Oooh! But that sounds like it might take a while. Especially that one. The entire Kama Sutra?”

He smiled just before his teeth pierced the upper slopes of my breast. I’ve always wanted to try all of them. But since you wish for us to locate your mother, I will content myself with simply doing this.

“Do what . . . Holy Swiss on rye! Ben! You don’t mean you’re going to . . .” My entire body went up in a fireball of excitement as his fingers slid up underneath the midthigh-length skirt I wore (with the secret hope that he would admire my legs), and proceeded into restricted areas. I lolled back against him, my mind flooded with both the sensations of him feeding and the ecstasy that his fingers brought as they danced an illicit dance.

It took longer than he anticipated for us to leave the trailer, mostly because by the time I had recovered from the experience of his magic fingers I felt a little reciprocation was in order, and then we both wanted a shower, and that meant much soaping up of each other, with the inevitable conclusion.

“I am so glad you have strong back muscles,” I murmured an hour later as I walked down the stairs of the trailer. “I never knew a shower could be so very satisfying. Ready to tackle your girlfriend?”

Ben angled one of my old baseball caps so it shaded his face from the midday sun and turned up the collar of his leather jacket. “You’ll have to do better than that if you wish me to rise to your bait.”

I know how to make you rise, I said with a little mind leer as we dashed across the common area to Naomi’s trailer.

You do, and you’re going to if you keep thinking about that shower. Francesca, I know you wish to help, but I really would prefer that you do not come with me to Naomi’s.

If you think I’m going to go sit at Imogen’s while you are locked up with that psychotic nympho, you’re bonkers. I’ll knock. You keep your hands in your pockets.

Naomi didn’t answer when I knocked politely on her door. Nor did she when I pounded on it and yelled for her to open up. By the time Peter and Kurt appeared to see what all the noise was about, I was beginning to suspect that all was not right.

“Think she’s gone to town?” I asked Ben as Peter approached with a spare set of keys.

“She might have.” His gaze, as clear as honey, met mine. “Particularly if she wished to meet with someone in particular.”

The question was made moot once we saw the trailer. Drawers had been yanked open and were tossed willynilly around the living area. Papers were strewn around in utter disarray. Cupboards spilled food onto the counters and floor, as if someone had carelessly knocked stuff aside in an attempt to snatch up a few desired items.

“She’s gone,” I said, looking around as Peter exclaimed in German. “Without telling anyone, I bet.”

“Most likely. My things are in there,” Ben said, heading for the bedroom. “I’ll just get them and—”

“What a mess.” I stepped carefully over spilled sugar, distastefully eyeing the chaos. “Just like her to go leaving as much trouble for people as possible. Does she own this trailer, Peter?”

“No, it is mine. I rent it to people when they do not have their own.” He looked as dismayed by the prospect of losing a tattoo and piercing professional as he did at the task of cleaning up the debris.

I glanced toward the partly open bedroom door, slowly picking my way down the aisle to it. “Did she take your things, too, Ben?”

He stood just inside the door, not moving, looking across the bed at the wall.

“Ben?”

I stepped into the room and froze. Blood splattered the far wall in a fine spray at the top, with heavier smears lower down. Bloody handprints that dragged downward set up a chill in my gut.

Ben shifted, and I saw the body of a man lying half on the bed, the upper part of his torso having slid in the space between the bed and wall.

“Merciful goddess!” I gasped, starting forward. Ben caught me and pulled me back. “Who is it?”

“Luis.”

I stared at the lower legs of the man, his brown corduroy pants soaked with blood. “David’s Luis?”

“Yes.”

“How horrible.” It was horrible, too. Although I didn’t know Luis, and what I had seen of him at the tyro hadn’t been such to make me very sympathetic to him, he was a member of David’s pride, and I liked David. Beyond that, no one deserved to die in such a violent way.

Ben pulled out his cell phone and started entering a text message, no doubt to David. Behind me, Kurt entered the room, his shocked intake of breath and murmured oaths bringing Peter.

“Who is it?” the latter asked after swearing in German.

“It’s Ben’s acquaintance,” I told him before asking Ben, “Do you think Naomi killed him?”

“No.” He finished texting and put the phone away in his jacket pocket before herding us all out of the room. “He was killed by another therion.”

“Another therion?” Peter asked, looking extremely wary. “What is happening here? Are we in the middle of a therion territorial dispute?”

Ben briefly explained the circumstances regarding both Naomi and Luis, ending with, “I don’t think this has anything to do with territory. It’s my belief that this man de Marco has somehow enslaved some therions, and is using them to attack their own kind.” He held Peter’s gaze for several seconds before adding, “I don’t think the mortal police should be informed of what’s happened.”

Peter released a long breath, shaking his head. “I don’t like it, but no, I agree, that would mean much trouble for the Faire. It will mean calling in the watch, though, and they are almost as bad.”

“At least they will understand about therions,” Ben said. He thought for a moment, then went back into the bedroom, emerging with a small satchel. “There is no sense in having my clothing confiscated by the watch. You will call them?”

Peter nodded. Kurt asked, “Will we have to close the Faire for a few days?”

“Possibly.” Peter rubbed his hand over his face. “And just as we were doing our best business. Ah, well, there is no help for it. I will call the watch. They will wish to talk to you, Benedikt.”

“I’m sure they will. You can tell them we’ll be here.”

“Actually . . . no, we won’t.” Ben and the others looked at me in surprise. I gave a feeble little smile. “I was going to tell you about the epiphany I had this morning, but then you got up, and we . . . er . . . Never mind.”

“Epiphany about what?” he asked as we left the trailer. I was only too happy to do so, the image of all those clutching bloody handprints on the wall one that would remain with me for a very long time. Peter and Kurt hurried off to call in the watch, the paranormal equivalent of a local police force, or so Imogen had once told me.

“The Vikings came back with their sacrificial offerings for Loki this morning.” I stopped next to the side of the trailer, automatically shielding Ben with my body as he stepped into a narrow patch of shade.

“Where are your troublesome trio?” he asked, looking around.

“They’re out where we tried summoning Loki, ostensibly to ready the area, but I heard Isleif telling Eirik that the woman he was with last night didn’t like his thong tan lines, so I suspect they’re really out there working on their all-over tans.”

Ben’s gaze was steady on mine. “Do I need to point out just how odd it is that you have three Viking ghosts who enjoy nude sunbathing?”

“Not at all. Nor do you have to mention the fact that their choice of sacrificial offerings is on the eccentric side.”

He closed his eyes for a few seconds. “Do I want to know?”

“I have them right here.” I pulled up onto a nearby table a small foam cooler that Eirik had presented me with a few hours earlier. “Sacrificial item number one: a pink bunny vibrator.” I held up the adult toy, flicking it on. It buzzed loudly, the pink rabbit moving up and down against the shaft of the toy in a manner that could only be described as obscene.

Ben stared at it. “You’re joking.”

“Alas, no. Item number two: a magazine featuring breasts that could in no way have their origins in nature.” I waved a bright red magazine with the title Busen-Extra in front of him. His eyes widened.

“Good god. No, they don’t look natural at all.”

I quickly tossed the magazine back into the cooler, straightening my shoulders as I did so. Ben didn’t say anything about the fact that the move thrust my breasts out, but I did see a tiny little smile form. “The final sacrificial item is over there.” I pointed to the end of the trailer, where a huge four-foot-tall triangular tube leaned against the hitch. The upper part of the package was torn, exposing shiny foil.

“A giant Toblerone?” Ben asked, squinting at it. “It looks partially eaten.”

“It is. Evidently Finnvid got a bit peckish on the way back to the Faire.”

Ben looked from the cooler to the chocolate to me. “They’re insane.”

“I admit that they seem that way, but they are Vikings, and to them, these are desirable things. Eirik and Finnvid had to wrestle the magazine away from Isleif.”

Ben’s eyes narrowed on me. “Why aren’t you more upset about this?”

“Because of the epiphany I had.”

“Ah, yes, that. What was it about?”

“Well, it was obvious to me that there’s no way on this good green earth that Loki would want a vibrator and a porn magazine. The chocolate might sway him, but going on the assumption that he can get as much chocolate as he wants, I started thinking about what would actually tempt him to answer a summons. And then I hit on it, the one thing that would be sure to draw him out from wherever he’s hiding.”

Ben thought for a moment, enlightenment dawning in his eyes. “That might do it.”

“I thought it would. Do you mind taking me there? I looked it up and it’s about an hour’s drive.”

“I don’t mind, but I had wanted to talk to David about de Marco.” Ben pulled out his cell phone, frowning at it. “He hasn’t answered my text message.”

“I’m sure he will. I’d really like to talk to my mom, Ben. I need to know for sure if Loki is involved with her or not.”

He pulled me against his chest and gave me a quick kiss. “Then we will go to find Tesla immediately. Let me get a different hat from Imogen’s trailer, since mine is covered in blood, and then we will leave.”

“Great. I’ll go get the Vikings.”

He paused halfway across the common area. “Do you have to?”

“They were sent to help me with Loki. I assume that Freya knew what she was doing, and they will help me somehow. I admit I can’t quite see how yet, but I’m sure they’ll be helpful. Kind of.”

Ben rolled his eyes and proceeded on to Imogen’s trailer. I toddled out to the far pasture, yelling from a few hundred yards away for the Vikings to put on some clothes so we could tackle Loki.

“You will offer him the sacrifices after all?” Eirik asked as he trotted up, clad in a pair of biker shorts that molded to his body in a way that had me averting my eyes.

“No, I really do think that you guys can enjoy the sacrifices yourselves.” The vision of the obscene rabbit came immediately to mind. I banished it, along with any ideas of how the Vikings might care to use it. “We’re going to a small horse farm about an hour away. Which means we’re going to need to get you guys transport, since I noticed that David reclaimed his car sometime during the early hours of the morning. Perhaps Imogen would drive you. . . .”

“Not until Finnvid is done spurning her,” Eirik interrupted, and then added loftily, “We will have our friends take us to this horse farm.”

“Friends? What friends?” I asked, unable to keep from being a bit suspicious.

“Does it matter?” Eirik asked, pushing me toward the trailers. “Where is the town?”

I told him the name of it, and gave rough directions gleaned from a quick map search on my cell phone.

“We will be there, goddess. In an hour?”

“It’ll take you that long to get there. Let’s say two hours—I want to talk to Imogen before we leave.”

“Remind her that I am spurning her woman’s time,” Finnvid said as he marched off with the others. I thought for a moment of pointing out that the towel he’d wrapped around his lower half wasn’t exactly clothing, but given some of the bizarre costumes I’d seen in town, I figured no one would notice.

Ben was giving Imogen a rundown of all that had happened in the last twelve hours. She sat huddled over a cup of tea, a large bottle of painkillers next to her.

“Fran! Thank the goddess. Please tell Benedikt he may touch me.”

I blinked at her. “I beg your pardon?”

“My belly. The cramps are very bad this time, and he can ease them, only he said he wouldn’t without you saying it was all right, which is just silly because I am his sister! You can’t mind if he rubs my belly.”

“Of course I don’t mind.” I looked at Ben with a new appreciation. “You can make cramps go away?”

“I told you that I have some healing powers with people close to me.” Imogen hurried over to a white leather couch, lying back on it with her hands on her upper stomach.

“If you had told me five years ago that I never had to have cramps again . . . well, things would have been different, that’s all I’m saying.” I watched with interest as Ben knelt next to Imogen, placing both hands on her abdomen, kneading gently. She tensed up for a moment, then sighed and relaxed.

“Oh, that is so much better than the medicine,” she purred, a blissful look stealing over her face. “Thank you, Fran.”

I laughed. “Don’t thank me. Thank Mr. Magic Hands. You are totally on call for cramp duty with me, Ben. I always have a couple of hellish days.”

He smiled, lifted Imogen’s hand to kiss it, then rose and went to find his hat as Imogen chatted about the situation with Naomi.

“Do you wish for me to come with you?” she asked as she put away the pain meds and poured me a cup of tea.

“I would prefer you stay and talk to the watch for us,” Ben told her, putting on a black leather fedora that matched his distressed jacket. “They will no doubt be here in the next hour.”

“What do you want me to tell them?”

“Just that we’ll be back later. We have to find where Miranda is staying, and then David will no doubt wish to locate Naomi.”

“I think you should leave her to the watch,” Imogen said, her face tight with worry as she reached out, like she was going to touch Ben’s shoulder, but stopped, casting me a sidelong glance.

Why is she acting like I’m the queen of jealousy? She has to know I’m not going to get mad if she touches you.

You are my Beloved now, in deed as well as name. Moravian women do not, as a rule, touch Dark Ones who have a Beloved.

Why?

It is a sign of disrespect.

“Imogen,” I said, interrupting Ben as he started to explain that David would not tolerate allowing the watch to mete out the justice David felt was his. “I am not jealous of your relationship with Ben. I am not a typical Beloved. If you want to pat him on the arm, or shoulder, or kiss him on the head like you always used to do, then you go right ahead and do it. We might be a couple, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be his big sister.”

“Oh, Fran!” she cried, hugging me with a strength that belied her petite size. “Thank you for accepting Benedikt! You are the best thing that could ever have happened to him. To us. I’m so happy!”

“That’s why you’re crying?” I said, laughing as I hugged her back.

“I always get weepy at this time of the month,” she answered, sniffling, then reached out to hug Ben. “I will stay here and handle the watch for you. Go and find Miranda. And you will call me if you need my help, yes? ”

We promised to do just that. The drive to the farm where Tesla lived could be a bit hairy at times, since Ben didn’t have a helmet to protect his face from the sun, although he did have leather gloves to keep his hands from being burned. But his face . . . I worried about that until Imogen bestowed on him a black silk scarf and pair of wraparound sunglasses. He wrapped the former around his lower face, slid the latter into place, and with my arms firmly around him, we headed off on his motorcycle to a farm region north of Munich.

Tesla was an elderly white horse, a Lipizzan I had saved from being turned into whatever it is people turn horses into these days—dog food, I presumed. Just how Tesla came to be with me is an odd story, and even odder is the mystery that surrounds him, a mystery I never did have time to fully investigate. But strangest of all is his relationship to Loki, one that I would never have imagined in a million years if Loki himself hadn’t explained it to me.

“Mikaela!” I greeted the woman with short black hair as she emerged from a neat little house surrounded by pastureland. She was followed by two little girls, both of whom had inherited her husband Ramon’s copper hair and quiet, studied demeanor.

“Fran! And Benedikt! What a surprise. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? What am I thinking—you must come out of the sun, Benedikt.”

“It’s been a long time since that summer when Circus of the Darned joined up with the Faire,” I said, following her back into the house, picking up the littler of the girls and giving her a kiss on the head. “So this is my namesake? ”

“Yes, that is our Fran. And this is Abigail, our older. You remember me telling you about Fran, don’t you, girls?”

It took a bit to conduct all the greetings, admiration of Mikaela’s girls, and exchanging of news, but at last Mikaela put little Fran down for a nap and ushered us out to a gently sloped pasture.

“Do you and Ramon still do the sword swallowing?” I couldn’t help but ask, noting she was apparently early on in another pregnancy.

“Ramon does sometimes, for special events, but me . . .” She patted her tummy. “My sword-swallowing and chain-saw-juggling days are over. I don’t regret the decision, though, so you needn’t look so sympathetic. We are very happy here with the horses, and we are finally starting to make some money, so all is good.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I certainly have been grateful you decided to run a horse farm, because I know Tesla is in good hands with you.”

“He’s been no trouble. He’s quite the gentleman, and has even allowed Abigail to ride him a few times. Walking only, because he is so very old, but she loves him, as you can see.”

Ahead of us was a pasture with a clutch of horses dozing in the sun. Abigail, who my mental arithmetic worked out to be almost five years in age, had clambered through the fence and was stroking the face of a dirty gray horse.

“I’m sure Tesla will be happy to see you, although Ramon will be annoyed he has missed you. He went into town to pick up feed. And oh, we have not had time to bathe Tesla so he would be clean for you!”

“That’s okay,” I said and laughed. “I don’t demand cleanliness in horses.”

Tesla seemed to remember me, although it had been many years since I had left him in Ramon and Mikaela’s capable hands. He snuffled my chest, then my hips, evidently looking for treats, blowing out a sad breath when he found nothing.

“I’m sorry, old guy. I’ll bring you something later,” I murmured in his ear, stroking the still thick-muscled curve of his neck. He looks the same, doesn’t he? He looks like he hasn’t aged at all. Just a little creakier, maybe.

He is Loki’s descendant. I suspect that gives him a bit more staying power than other horses.

True, although you know, I really do prefer not thinking about Loki going all wild and wacky and turning himself into a mare. It’s bad enough that his descendant is a horse, but to know he was once a mare who got knocked up? Just a bit too freaky for comfort.

Ben laughed. There are many things about Loki that are too freaky for comfort.

Amen to that.

I’m surprised that you’re not more ecstatic about seeing Tesla. In fact, I assumed that would be the first thing you did when you got here.

I peered at Ben over Tesla’s gently bobbing head as I scratched the base of his ears. I would have, if I wasn’t in weekly contact with Mikaela via e-mail . And she sends me lots of pictures. And sometimes videos of Tesla wandering around, or of the girls and Ramon with him. Last year, she put a Christmas wreath over his head and sent me an MP3 of the girls singing Christmas carols to him.

There is something wrong with the fact that you are more concerned about your horse than me, he said in a disgruntled tone as he walked around to stand at my side.

I licked his lower lip.

“If you can wait, Ramon should be back in another hour,” Mikaela said. “I do not like the idea of you trying to deal with Loki with just the two of you. He is the trickster.”

“We have backup coming. In fact . . .” I squinted toward the house, where a large, colorfully painted bus pulled up. “I believe they just arrived. Monkeys flinging poo, does that say what I think it says?”

“Flying Maraschino Brothers,” Ben read the psychedelic letters painted on the side of the bus, which was covered in neon-bright peace symbols, flowers, and strange, half-animal, half-people creatures.

“It’s like a bad acid trip on wheels,” I said, watching with amazement when the door to the bus opened and people poured out of it whooping and squealing and turning somersaults and backflips all the way out to us.

“It’s like a bad acid trip, period,” Ben said, his eyes wide as he took in the bright red and black costumes the people wore, some sort of odd Gypsy-belly-dancer-Cossack hybrid with voluminous trousers that were tucked into boots that ended at the knee, gold sashes around their waists, and little red bolero jackets edged in black fringe that spun and whirled as the acrobats—they couldn’t be anything but acrobats—whooped their way out to us.

I eyed three of the booted, trousered, boleroed people as the entire group stopped in front of us with a yell and dramatic pose.

“Goddess! We have come. And these are our friends, mummers who are here to help us.”