Confessions of a Vampire's Girlfriend (15 page)

Soren sucked in his breath, looking at me as if I were dancing naked. Upside down. I threw my arms out, annoyed that he of all people should make a big deal about a little difference. “I'm still the same person I was a few minutes ago, Soren! You didn't think I was weird then!”

“I didn't say I think you are weird,” he said slowly.

“You don't have to say it; that look says it all. I've seen it before, you know. Everyone who finds out about this has that same look, the ‘Fran is a freak' look. I thought you would understand what it was like to be born with something you can't do anything about. It's nothing different from you being born with one leg shorter than the other.”

His face turned red as he looked down at his leg.

“My leg can't tell me what you're thinking.”

“And my hands can—yeah, so? I can't turn it off, Soren. I just have to live with it. I thought you'd understand. Now I'm sorry I told you.”

I turned away from him, leaning on Tesla's side, tracing my fingers over the scar on his shoulder, blinking furiously so Soren wouldn't see me cry.

“Fran?”

I twisted the ends of Tesla's mane into a braid, sick that I'd ruined my friendship with Soren. “What?”

“I don't think you're weird. I think . . . I think it's cool.”

“It's not cool; it's a curse,” I mumbled down at my hands. Tesla's white mane was tangled between my fingers. That was what my life had turned into, a tangle. I was tangled up with Mom and the Faire, tangled up with Ben, tangled with Soren and Imogen, tangled with Tesla. . . .

“I don't think so.” Soren came around to the other side of Tesla. “I really do think it's neat. I'm sorry if I made you feel bad.”

I twitched a shoulder. “I'm used to it.”

He looked down at my hands. “Can you do it with animals?”

“Tell what they're feeling? No. I think it's because they think differently. The only things I pick up on are human emotions and stuff like that.”

“Oh.” He looked thoughtful for a few minutes. “Still, I bet that could be useful.”

“Useful!” I snorted. “Yeah, if you want everyone to jump back every time you come near them because they're afraid to let you touch them, then it's useful. Otherwise it's a curse, like I said.”

“That's why Miranda wanted you to find out who's stealing our money, isn't it? She wants you to touch everyone and see who is the thief?”

I combed through Tesla's mane with my fingers. “Something like that, yeah.”

His eyes widened again. “You touched me the other day, I remember! You touched me with your bare hand. Were you reading me then?”

I chewed on my lip and tried to think of a polite way to tell him that there was a short time when I thought he might be a suspect. “Well . . . I had to eliminate everyone who touched the safe—”

“Was I a suspect? You thought I was a suspect? Cool!”

I rolled my eyes, bending to check that Tesla's hobble was on correctly. The leather cuffs around his front feet weren't tight, and the chain that connected them was long enough to let him graze without giving him the full range of his normal stride. “You are the only person I know who thinks it's cool to be a suspect.”

“I've never been a suspect before,” he explained, limping after me as I walked back toward the Faire. “I wish you had told me. I would have liked to write it in my journal.”

“You can write it in there now.”

“Am I still a suspect?”

I stopped and waited for him to catch up to me. “No, of course not. You checked out.”

“I checked out,” he said in an awe-filled voice. “That's cool, too.”

“Whatever.”

We walked down the long length of the Faire, swallows wheeling and diving ahead of us as they did their aerobatic act between the tents. “What happened after Ben carried you home?”

“I don't know.”

He pursed his lips. “You don't know?”

“Nope. I was out. I don't remember anything except waking up this morning.”

“What did Miranda say?”

“Zzzzzz.”

“What?” Soren stopped to gawk at me.

I smiled. “She was asleep when I got up this morning. I assume that Ben hauled me back to the trailer, and Mom tucked me in. That's all.”

“Oh.” He looked a bit disappointed by that and evidently decided to go after something more promising. “Who is a suspect? Who do you think stole the money?”

I stopped at the fringe between the Faire and the trailers. It was still too early for most of the people to be up, but a few bleary-eyed people staggered out of their cars with cups of coffee and bags of baked goods clutched in their hands, heading for their trailers. “I don't know. Seven people touched the safe, and of those seven, almost all of them check out.”

“Almost all?”

“I haven't talked to the last couple of people.”

“Oh. He sucked the inside of his cheek for a moment as we watched Absinthe, a lurid-pink scarf that clashed with her hair tied around her head, and a pair of black glasses hiding her eyes, slip out the door of Kurt and Karl's trailer. She went straight for her trailer.

“That was interesting,” I said.

He made a face. “Not really. So, last night, when you had your attack—”

“It wasn't an attack,” I interrupted. I mean, sheesh, I felt weird enough; I didn't need people thinking I had attacks, too!

“Okay, when whatever happened to you happened, that was because . . .” His nose scrunched up. “Why
did
it happen?”

I kicked at a rock, prying it out of the sod so I could toss it into the garbage can nearby. “I think it was overload. I've never touched more than a couple of people a day, and in there, I was touching hundreds. I felt like I was being crushed by them, like I was just an empty shell. It was awful.”

“Ben touched you.”

“Yeah.”

Soren turned blue eyes full of accusation on me. “He knows, doesn't he? You told him, but you didn't tell me.”

I tried for a supportive smile. I don't think I succeeded. “I told you now; that's gotta count for something.”

“You didn't trust me, and you trusted him. You only just met him!”

“Come on,” I said, tugging him toward the trailer Absinthe had just left.

“You like him more than me, don't you?”

“Oh, for Pete's sake . . .” I stopped and shook him. “This isn't a contest, okay? Ben knows because . . . because . . . because he just knows! I didn't tell him; he figured it out himself.”

“You didn't tell him?” Soren's eyes were narrowed; he was suspicious despite obviously wanting to believe me.

“I didn't tell him; he guessed. Feel better? Good. Now come on; I need some help.”

“Help with what?”

“I need to touch Karl.”

Soren's eyes bugged out again. I smacked him on the arm.

“Not that kind of touch, stupid! I need to
touch
him. He's one of the people who used the safe. I need to see if he feels cold and desperate inside.”

Cold. Desperate. Just like the person who wanted Ben dead. I sucked in my breath and thought about that for a moment. Could it be? Could the thief be the same person who wanted Ben staked? Why?

“Fran? You okay? You're not going to have another attack, are you?”

I made mean eyes at him. “I do not have attacks!”

“Okay, but you're scaring me. Your eyes went all funny. What's the matter?”

“Nothing. I just need to think for a minute.” I looked around, then grabbed Soren's hand, dragging him over to a couple of plastic crates that were stacked behind Elvis's trailer, out of sight of the rest of the trailers. “Sit.”

He sat. He also watched me as I paced back and forth, trying to figure it all out. “I'm going to do this the way the detectives do it in books.”

Soren dug a small, grubby notebook out of his pocket. “I'll be your trusted sidekick.”

I stopped pacing to give him a look.

“What? That's not right?”

“We're not in a Western, Soren. This is serious.”

“You're the boss.” He looked thrilled. I felt peeved.

“Point one,” I said, resuming pacing and ticking each item off on my finger. “Someone stole the Faire money, not once but three times in the last ten days.”

“Yes.” Soren bent over his notebook, his tongue peeking out as he wrote with a broken pencil.

“Point two: Seven people touched the safe—your father and aunt, you, Imogen, my mother, Elvis, and Karl.”

“Hey!” Soren looked up. “Elvis! I bet it's him.”

“You're jumping ahead. Trusty sidekicks never jump ahead.”

His lips made an O. “Sorry.”

“Point three: It doesn't make sense for either Absinthe or Peter to steal from themselves and make a big stink about it.”

“Big stink,” Soren repeated as he wrote.

“Point four: Elvis is a demonologist. Demons can get into anything if they are so ordered.”

“Yeah,” Soren said, his eyes lighting up.

“Except something made of steel,” I added. His face fell.

“Oh. The safe is made of steel.”

“Exactly. So unfortunately, although I'd like the suspect to be Elvis, I just don't see how he could use a demon to switch the money with the bits of newspaper that your aunt found.”

He sighed noisily. “I can't either.”

“Point five: Your dad left the combination to the safe lying around where anyone could see it, but only seven people touched the safe, so that eliminates everyone else.”

Soren looked thoughtful, sucking on the end of the broken pencil. “That leaves Imogen, Miranda, and Karl.”

“Exactly. And since Ben says Imogen doesn't need money, and I know my mom wouldn't steal anything. That leaves—”

“Karl!”

“Someone my name in vain is taking?”

Soren jumped up and I whirled around to see Karl dressed in a tank top, jogging shorts, and tennis shoes. Karl didn't speak English as well as the rest of the Faire people, but to give him credit, he spoke it better than I spoke German.

“Oh, hi, Karl. Uh . . .” I slipped my gloves off of my hand as I held it behind my back. Soren, who stood behind me, suddenly rushed forward.

“Karl, I was trying to show Fran the trick you do with the coin—you know, the one where you make it come out of someone's nose? I can't do it as well as you. Would you show it to her?”

I blinked for a second, then nodded my head. “Yes, would you, please? I'd love to learn some magic.”

Karl didn't look like he believed either of us, but he obligingly pulled a coin out of Soren's ear, my eyebrow, and his own elbow.

“Wow, that's really cool; can I try it?” I asked, holding out my bare hand.

Karl gave me the coin, his fingers brushing my hand as he dropped it onto my palm. “It's not a difficult trick, but much practice it takes.”

I made a couple of fumbled passes with the coin, then gave up with a laugh, handing it back to him. “Guess I'm not cut out to be a magician. Thanks anyway. Happy jogging.” I let my fingers touch his hand for a second longer than was necessary, then waved as he trotted off toward the road.

“Well?” Soren asked as soon as Karl was out of hearing.

I sat down on the crate. “We can cross him off. He didn't feel at all guilty.”

Soren looked up as his father called for him. “I have to go.”

I waved him off. “That's okay, I've got some stuff to do for my mom. I'll see you later.”

“Yes, later. I am to show you how to ride, don't forget.” He stuffed the notebook in his pocket. “And we'll work on this, too. We will come up with other points; don't worry.”

I let him run off without telling him that I wasn't worried in the least. I already knew of one more.

Point six: Someone who was on the dance floor last night would have given his or her soul to see Ben dead, and my gut instinct told me that that person and the thief were one and the same . . . and there were only two names left on my list of suspects.

Imogen and my mother.

T
his was our last day outside of Kapuvár. The next morning we'd pack everything up, and head off for Budapest, where we'd stay for ten days. Although my mom and I had only been with the Faire for a month, I'd decided I liked playing the smaller towns better than the bigger ones. The smaller ones gave me more freedom to wander around, exploring the town and countryside. In the big towns, like Stuttgart and Cologne, Mom got a little weird about me wandering around alone, which meant I couldn't go see any castles or the other cool stuff (torture museums—'nuff said) without waiting for her to have the time to take me.