Confessions of a Vampire's Girlfriend (29 page)

I made a face at the helmet Ben held in his hand.

“It's your mother's rule,” he said, giving it to me. I glared at it. I hated wearing a helmet, but my mother had put her foot down after she'd caught me riding around with Ben without one.

“You're not wearing one,” I pointed out, knowing it was stupid to pout, but feeling like it anyway.

“That's because I'm immortal.” He zipped up his leather jacket and held out his hand for me. “If we crash and I smash my head in, it won't do anything but make me pissed for a while. You're a bit more fragile.”

“Well, you keep telling me I'm your Beloved and all. I thought they were immortal like Imogen?”

“Beloveds are immortal like female Moravians, yes, but you're not my Beloved yet. At least, not officially. Unless you want to do the blood exchange?”

I thought for a moment he was seriously pressing me to do the whole “save his soul by binding myself to him forever” thing, but his dark eyes were twinkling from under the shadow thrown by the brim of his hat.

“Another time, vamp boy,” I said, giving him a little punch on the arm just to let him know I cared. He laughed and scooted forward a bit as I crawled onto the seat behind him, thankful I'd worn shorts instead of a skirt.

He glanced back at my bare knees, moving back until I was pressed up tight against his back. “I hope you won't be too cold.”

“I figured you'd keep me warm.” I leaned into his back, wrapping my arms around him as he gunned the bike and pushed off. It took me a few minutes to get my mind off the really delicious scent of leather jacket and Ben (he had to be wearing some sort of spicy aftershave or something), but eventually, I stopped snuffling his neck and ponytail, and started looking around as he drove us through the countryside.

We searched for Tesla until two in the morning. Because of the white night, we could zoom around and look for a horse being horsenapped pretty easily, but unfortunately, whoever took Tesla hid him well. By the time we got back to the fair, I was upset, mad, and frustrated.

“I'm sorry, Fran,” Ben said as I climbed off his bike. I felt like crying, but I knew that was stupid—Tesla hadn't been hurt (at least I didn't think he had); he was just stolen. “I'll keep looking for him.”

“Look where? We looked everywhere within a two-hour radius. If someone had driven off right away with him and kept driving, we'd never be able to find him anyway.”

Ben got off the bike and pulled me into a hug. “We'll find him, Fran. I promise you that we'll find him,” he said, his breath ruffling my hair.

I leaned against him, an odd sense of rightness creeping over me that distracted me for a minute from Tesla. I had told Ben the previous month that I was willing for us to try the girlfriend/boyfriend thing, but I had said that just because I liked him so much. I didn't honestly buy into that whole Beloved bit—although it gave me a warm feeling to think about it—but right after we'd left Hungary for France, Ben disappeared to do whatever the mysterious thing was that he couldn't tell me, so we really hadn't had much time to be together.

And now there I was standing in his arms, leaning against him, feeling warm and happy despite the fact that I was worried sick about Tesla. I couldn't help thinking things were pretty wonderful because we were together, and also, I'm ashamed to say, I was more than a little smug because out of the millions of girls wandering around the world, Ben had picked
me
.

Life is kinda weird that way.

“Fran, are you ready for your regression? Oh, hello, Ben. We haven't been properly introduced, have we? Imogen has told me so much about you, though, I feel like I know you. I'm Desdemona. I'm a personal time-travel consultant. Did you know that in a past life Fran was Cleopatra? It's so very exciting. I've promised to regress her again so we can get some more fascinating details of her life in ancient Egypt.”

Life just got a whole lot weirder.

Ben unwrapped his arms from around me as soon as Desdemona started to talk, but he didn't move away as I turned around to face her. Part of me was embarassed that anyone had caught us together, but the other part was annoyed because it was clear the way Desdemona was smiling at Ben that she had purposely interrupted us.

“Hi, Des. About the regression—could we do it another time? I'm a bit busy right now.”

“Yeeees,” she drawled, giving Ben another long look. Her tone made me grit my teeth. And it didn't help that she was wearing a leather waist cincher and short skirt that let everyone see just how different her five-foot-nothing, one hundred-pound self was from mammoth, six-foot-tall me. “I can see you were.”

“No, not us. Um. That is, Ben and I weren't . . . well, we were, but that's not what I'm talking about.”

“Fran is distraught over the theft of her horse,” Ben said, smoothly interrupting me.
Are you by any chance jealous?

Ben laughed in my head.

“Oh, your horse was stolen? I'm so sorry. Of course the regression can wait for another time.” Desdemona smiled at Ben. “How would you like a personal time-travel experience, Ben? It seems I have an opening, and since the fair is just now closing, I could get you in quickly.”

Calm down, Fran. She's harmless.
“Another time, perhaps. I've promised Fran to continue looking for her horse, and I doubt if I'll be done before daybreak.” Ben glanced toward where the sun was barely beneath the horizon. “Or as close to daybreak as it gets around here. Thank you anyway.”

“No problem. I'll be happy to do you anytime,” she said, giving us both a little wave as she strolled off toward the main tent. Ben watched her walk away from us for a second before looking back at me.

“Why are you making that face?” he asked. “Why are your eyes narrow little slits of ebony that look like they want to shoot lasers at me?”

“You watched her walk away,” I said, struggling to keep my voice jealous-free. I lost the fight. “You deliberately watched.”

“Yes, I did. I looked at her breasts, too, but despite that, you're still the only girl on the planet for me.”

“Nice try, Vlad,” I said, slipping out of his arms when he tried to pull me into another kiss. I stalked toward the trailer that Mom and I shared. “
My
boyfriend isn't going to be aware there's anyone else around but me. Since you have other ideas, so long. Hasta la vista. Don't let the door hit you on the butt going out.”

Ben stood where I left him, his arms crossed over his chest. I smiled to myself where he couldn't see it.

I smiled even more at the pause that followed that. He wasn't one hundred percent sure, something I was perfectly happy about. I entered the trailer, absently moving Davide from the couch that turned into my bed at night.

This time I let him feel my smile.

The brush of his mind against mine had a decidedly disgruntled tone to it.
And I think you're enjoying every minute of keeping me on tenterhooks about whether or not you're going to be my Beloved.

Good night, Ben
, I said, laughing into his head.
Thank you for looking for Tesla.

Sleep well, sweet Fran
, he answered, and I gave in and had a lovely sigh of happiness over him.

Even with the Tesla problem, life was looking pretty good at the moment. Ben was back, and as yummy as ever. I had settled into life with the GothFaire, and actually enjoyed doing the palm readings. Mom was happy with her new group of friends, the Faire was doing well, and even Soren was happy these days.

“Things are looking up for a change,” I told Davide as I flipped off all the lights but one so Mom could see her way past me when she finished for the night, and settled into my makeshift bed. The big cat sauntered over, jumping up on me so he could sleep on my hip. It was his favorite spot, despite the fact that we didn't really like each other. “Not even poor Tesla gone missing, and half-naked Viking ghosts running around are going to ruin my date with Ben day after tomorrow. That is going to be the most perfect event of my life. I just know it.”

Which just goes to show you I'm
not
clairvoyant in any way.

T
he first inkling I had that something was wrong the next morning was the war ax embedded in the wooden door of my closet.

“Hrung?” I asked in no known language as I squinted at the wood and steel weapon that still vibrated slightly. The blade of the ax, mostly buried in the door, was curved on the edges. “Wha'?”

“Goddess, have you seen—oh, there it is.” The Viking Imogen had been flirting with the night before stood at the open window right next to me. I glared at him, pulling the thin blanket covering my legs up over the jumbo T-shirt I wore to bed. “Would you mind giving me back my Hanwei ax?”

“You threw an ax at me?” I asked, my brain still sleepy and thus not much able to make sense of what he was saying.

“Me?” the Viking asked, pointing at himself in disbelief. “I would never do that! You are a goddess, and I am merely Finnvid, your devoted servant and the slayer of many hundred Huns.”

“Then what is that doing in here?” I pointed to the ax. He looked a bit abashed.

“It . . . er . . . slipped. I was aiming at a usurper, and it went through your window rather than cleaving his brain in two, as it was meant to do.”

It was at that point I realized the sounds that had vaguely registered on my brain weren't from someone's portable TV or radio. I distinctly recognized Absinthe's brusque German voice as she yelled orders.

“What the bullfrogs—” A woman's loud scream from nearby had me jumping out of bed and racing to the door. Davide and my mother were gone, which meant they had probably already left to do their morning rituals to the God and Goddess with their Wiccan friends. Since closing time wasn't until two in the morning, most of the GothFaire and Circus of the Darned people didn't get up until after noon, but there were a few hardy folk up earlier. I figured it was about nine in the morning as I flung open the door to the trailer. “Holy crap!”

The sight that met my eyes was not one I ever expected to see—only a handful of GothFairians were up, but they were active . . . very active. Running around screaming with various Vikings chasing after them.

“Is it?” The Viking ghost named Finnvid, who still stood by the open window, looked around, finally spotting a nearby pile of dog poop (probably made by Tallulah's pug, Wennie). “Ah. It looks like dog shite to me, but if it's holy, I will not rub someone's face in it.”

The Faire was usually set up in the shape of a large U, with the big tent at the bottom, and two arms of vendor tents and booths. To the far side of one of the arms was what Mom called Trailer Town—where Faire and Darned people set up their trailers and RVs. In the center of the vaguely circular arrangement of trailers were a couple of portable picnic tables and chairs, a small barbecue, and three folding chaise lounges that everyone used to work on their tans. The chaises weren't being used for suntanning now—one of them was acting as a trampoline for a red-haired Viking, while another was tipped up on its end, the elasticy plastic webbing being used by another Viking to catapult overly ripe peaches at Tallulah. She had taken refuge behind a plastic picnic table, but every time she popped her head up to see if the coast was clear, the Viking launched another peach at her. The trailer behind her was a slimy mess of gooey, dripping peach blobs that slumped their way to the ground. Peter would be furious. He had bought the peaches to feed his fruit addiction, and now they were smeared everywhere.

“What in the name of all that is good and glorious is going on here?” Mikaela emerged from the trailer next to ours, wearing a pair of jeans and a tank top. She held a bottle of water in one hand, and a candle and a couple pieces of lavendar in the other.

“Brutta!” Finnvid shouted, and leaped past me to scoop her up.

Mikaela screamed and yelled for Ramon, her husband, while simultaneously beating Finnvid on the head with her water bottle. Beyond her, Absinthe had somehow made it to the top of her trailer, where she stood yelling what were no doubt rude things in German down to the three Vikings trying to scale the trailer to get to her.