Confessions of a Vampire's Girlfriend (28 page)

“Wow. That's a lot of killing.”

“We are Viking. It's what we do best,” he said modestly. “There is a priestess in your group, is there not? I have seen her. She has hair the color of a crow, which stands up in unruly clumps. If I cannot rut with a goddess, a priestess would do.”

“That would be Mikaela, but she has a husband,” I said, sliding a quick glance toward Ben. “There's a girl working for the Faire who doesn't have a boyfriend, though. Her name is Desdemona. She's a personal time-travel counselor.”

“Hmm.” Eirik looked thoughtful.

“Fran? Where did you—oh. Hi, Benedikt. Who's that?” We'd reached the edge of the fairgrounds, keeping to the shadows as much as possible because of Ben. Soren popped out of the main tent and stood with his hands on his hips, squinting first at Ben, then at Eirik. “Why is he dressed so funny?”

“He's a ghost, and a Viking, and I'm sure it's not funny to him,” I said, making warning eyebrows at Soren. “Eirik, this is Soren. He's the son of one of the owners of the Faire, and is a magician in training. He's also teaching me to ride. Soren, this is Eirik Redblood, leader of the Vikings who were killed over at the dig site. He's . . . uh . . . been called back accidentally.”

Soren blinked twice, then nodded. “A Viking ghost. OK. How long will he be here?”

“Er . . . we're not quite sure on that. There are eleven others, as well, although some went off with Imogen to the local disco.” I wrinkled my nose as something occurred to me. “What are people in town going to think of a bunch of guys dressed in leather and leggings?” I asked Ben.

He shrugged one shoulder. “It could start a new fashion trend.”

“Where is this Desdemona you speak of?” Eirik asked me, scanning the crowds wandering around the fairgrounds. Even though he stood a good head higher than everyone else, and was dressed like ye olde Viking, no one seemed to be paying him any attention. Everyone milled around the various booths and stalls that formed an alley, slowly drifting past us into the main tent, where the second round of magic acts was about to start.

I pointed down to the far end of the right side of the booths. “See the big hourglass above the green-striped awning? That's Desdemona's booth. The second show is about to start, so most people will go watch that if you wanted to talk to her. Although I should warn you—she's a bit wacky when it comes to the subject of time travel.”

Soren snickered. “You just say that because she insists you're the reincarnation of Cleopatra.”

Ben laughed, taking my hand and rubbing his thumb over the ring I wore, a ring that had once belonged to his mother, but which he'd given me last month. “Fran?”

“Hey, you don't have to say that in such a disbelieving tone,” I said. “I could be Cleopatra!”

“I don't believe in reincarnation,” he said, smiling at me.

“I don't know what this time travel is, but I like to sail. I will try it,” Eirik said, and without another word he went marching off down the row toward Desdemona's booth.

“He's in for a surprise,” I said, smiling.

“
Ja
. Big surprise.” Soren looked up as his father and my mother walked over to us.

I flinched. Mom had a really unhappy look on her face, but all she said was, “I will speak to you later about your behavior in the circle.”

“Soren, is Bruno ready?” Peter asked, cocking an eyebrow at his son. “No? Then go—the show is about to begin. Ah. Ben, you are back with us?”

“I am,” Ben said, shaking Peter's hand. “I will probably be around for a while. I'm staying with Imogen, so if there is something I can do to help out, let me know.”

“I will, thank you.” Peter yelled something at one of the guys hauling in a crate containing his illusion equipment. “I must go now. I have told them a hundred times how valuable that equipment is, but they do not listen—”

Peter hurried off to set up the second show. Mom gave me a warning look and drifted off. Ben rubbed his chin as he looked after her. “I wonder what was going on with her invocations.”

“Probably that huldra. Or the ghosts. Her invocations can go wonky if there are unsettled elements in the area.” I shrugged and smiled. “So, you're going to be here for a while this time? No running off without a word to anyone?”

His thumb rubbed over my knuckles. My knees went a bit weak at the touch, but I told them to knock off the girly stuff. “I'm sorry about that. It was unavoidable, but I regret not being able to tell you I had to leave before I was called away.”

“Called away by who?” I asked, throwing grammar rules to the wind.

He just rubbed my fingers and didn't answer. I sighed. Just because he couldn't lie to me didn't mean he had to keep silent whenever I asked a question he didn't want to answer. I mean really.

“I'm not going to tell anyone if you've been off doing something, you know”—I made bitey claw fingers—“vampy. You can trust me, Ben. I'm not going to give you away.”

“I trust you with my life,” he said, pulling my hand up to give my fingers a kiss. My stomach did a happy backflip. “But this situation concerns someone other than me, and I am not at liberty yet to tell you about it.”

I sighed again. “OK. Mom says I have to respect your privacy, although she did say a couple of snarky things about guys who run off without a word. But I trust you, too, so I'm not going to say anything more about it. For now.”

He smiled and kissed my fingers again, his breath warm on my suddenly sensitive knuckles. Who knew a hand could be so sexy?

“But . . . um . . . that brings up another subject.” I bit my lip, a little embarassed. I reminded myself that there was nothing wrong with it, and blurted it out quickly, before I changed my mind. “I know that a guy normally asks this, but I'm into equal rights and stuff, so I was wondering if you'd like to go on a date with me? A real date, not a ride on your bike like we did in Hungary, but a real date date, the kind where I dress up and stuff. Maybe we could get some dinner and see a movie or something, if they have English movies here. Or whatever. If you don't want to, that's fine, too. I just thought maybe—”

He laughed and gave me a quick kiss, almost a non-kiss, just a brush of his lips. It was enough to stop me from blathering on and on, but not enough to make anyone notice us. “I would love to go on a date. Dinner and a movie sounds great. When would you like to go?”

It took me a few seconds to get over the kiss. “How about on Sunday? There's just one show on Sunday nights, and we can go after the last magic act.”

“Three days from now?” he asked, smiling.

“Yeah, well, I'm kind of booked until then,” I said, trying to sound sophisticated. What I didn't tell him was that my stomach was turning somersaults at the idea of a real, honest-to-Goddess date with him. I'd need those three days just to get myself to the point where I could go out with him without spending the entire time kissing him. Which was what I wanted to do now. Just standing near him made me feel tingly, kind of the same way the pendant felt.

“Very well, Sunday it is.” He stepped back behind the demonology booth, pulling me into the shadow with him. “Perhaps we should seal the deal with a kiss?”

“Sounds good to me,” I said, leaning up against him, drinking in the wonderful leather/spicey smell that was pure Ben.

“Let's hear the name of that Welsh place again,” he said, his eyes going almost golden.

I was just about to say it when Soren ran out into the main aisle, yelling my name. Soren doesn't run well because of his leg, so for him to be moving that fast had to mean something was up. “I'm right here—what's going on?” I asked as Ben and I stepped into the aisle.

“It's Tesla,” Soren said, limping toward me, a lead rope in his hand.

“Oh, no, is something wrong with him? Is he sick?” I asked, starting toward the area where the horses were kept.

“I don't know,” Soren yelled after me as Ben and I ran toward the pasture. “He's not there. He's gone. I think he's been stolen.”

S
oren was right. I had my doubts when he said he thought Tesla had been stolen—who'd want an old dirty white horse? But the area where Tesla and Bruno had been hobbled was empty. Tesla's hobble was sitting neatly on a rock, right next to the water bucket.

“Someone took this off,” Ben said, fingering the open buckles. “It didn't come off on its own.”

“Do you see?” Soren asked as he puffed his way up to us. “He was taken,
ja?
”

“Looks that way.” I hesitated a minute, then stripped off the layers of latex and lace gloves I wore to keep from reading everything I touched, and held out my hand for the hobble. Ben placed it across my palm, careful to keep from touching my hand. Although he was one of the few people I didn't mind touching, I didn't want to confuse my psychometry abilities by picking up on something he was feeling rather than the person who unbuckled the hobble.

“Well?” Soren asked as I sorted through the images that came to mind as soon as my fingers closed over the leather cuff. “Who took him? Is Bruno in danger? I should tell my dad if there is a horse kidnapper around.”

“I don't think this is a horsenapper,” I said, focusing on the hobble.

“Who touched it, Fran?” Ben asked, his voice quiet but full of concern. He knew how much Tesla meant to me.

“Ben, Soren, Peter, Karl . . .” Those last three made sense. They all helped take care of the horses, loading and unloading them in the horse trailer when we move to another town, so it was no surprise that at one time or another they'd picked up the hobble. But it was a fifth person who'd touched it that worried me. “. . . and someone else. Someone I don't know. Someone . . .
different
.”

“Different how?” Ben asked. I handed him back the hobble and turned to scan the open field. I didn't think Tesla would be hidden away in the shadows, but I had to look anyway.

“Different as in not human.”

“What?” Soren asked, his mouth hanging open. “Not human? You mean like a ghost?”

“I don't know what he is, other than he doesn't have any feeling whatsoever.”

“No feelings?” Soren frowned.

“Yeah. None whatsoever. Everyone leaves some sort of residual emotion behind when they touch something—even Ben does when he tries to close off his emotions—I can feel that it's him that touched it. But the guy who touched the hobble wasn't normal. Not human.”

“Or heavily shielded,” Ben said, looking thoughtful. “There are people who are able to block themselves completely. Mages and the like.”

“Mages?” I looked down at the hobble. “Mikaela said Tibolt was a mage.”

“You'd know if it was him who took Tesla, though,” Soren pointed out, slapping at a mosquito on his arm.

I shook my head. “I haven't touched him with my bare hands.” Something occurred to me then. “Oh great. I haven't touched a bunch of people working here—that means I'm going to have to go around doing the touchy-feely thing with everyone. I hate that!”

“That may not be necessary,” Ben said, an odd, abstracted look on his face. “There's a Diviner here, isn't there?”

“Diviner? Not that I know of.”

“Hmm. Perhaps there's one nearby we can ask for help.”

“Whatever,” I said, anxious to find Tesla. “All this standing around talking isn't finding him. He could be out there all alone, or being abused or something. Ben? Can we go find him, please?”

“Absolutely. I'll get my bike and pick you up.” He tossed the hobble next to the bucket and ran off to get his motorcycle.

“I'd help look, too, but the show is about to start,” Soren said, casting a worried look over his shoulder toward the main tent. “In fact—”

“Go,” I said, making shooing motions with both hands. “Don't be late with Bruno or your dad will kill you.”

He hurried off, leaving me standing alone in the empty field. I tried to open myself up to it. Mom said it was the proper way to get in touch with other beings and weird things like that, but I guess I lack the “opening up” gene or something, because all I felt was the night breeze and a couple of residual itchy spots.

“Ready?” Ben asked. I gave up and ran over to the field where people parked. He was on his bike, fiddling with one of the levers (it had to be a guy thing—I didn't hear anything wrong with the bike at all), his long black hair pulled back into a ponytail.

“I'm ready, although I don't know where to start looking. I guess we're going to have to check out everywhere we can—Ugh. Not that!”