In the Company of Vampires

Chapter 3

“Your bondage group really gets into their personas,” Geoff marveled as I wondered what I could do to escape the hell my life had suddenly become. “Wow. Those are some inventive outfits. Kind of like Ren Faire meets Mistress Sadista. Most of the bondage ensembles I’ve seen have just consisted of a hood and banana hammock, and maybe some chest restraints. But your group is really . . . interesting. I really like the weapons.”

“Bondage!” Eirik said in an outraged tone. “We are not slaves! We are the masters of slaves!”

Geoff sidled over to me and said in a whisper, “Seriously, three tops to one bottom? You don’t want to go there.”

“That’s not what she means,” I told Eirik before turning back to Geoff with a speculative glance. “How much money would it take for you to leave for two weeks? ”

“Leave? Here?” Rather than looking angry, she looked intrigued. “Why? Oh my god, you’re going to have some sort of bondage group orgy, aren’t you?”

“No orgy!” I said quickly, frowning as Finnvid’s expression turned hopeful. “And they’re not part of my bondage group.”

“We will be happy to have an orgy if you wish, goddess,” Eirik offered.

“If they’re not part of your bondage group, then who are they?” Geoff asked, and I had to admit that was a reasonable question.

“We are Vikings, sons of Valhalla, and we have come to help the goddess Fran banish the trickster Loki to the Akasha,” Eirik answered before I could think of an answer.

“Ah. Actors,” she said, enlightenment dawning in her eyes as she nodded. She peeled off the other T-shirt she wore and grabbed a bath towel. “I didn’t know you were doing the drama thing this semester, but knock yourselves out. I’m going to take a shower.”

I waited until the door closed before turning on the three Viking ghosts. “You guys cannot stay here.”

Finnvid and Eirik had been whispering together while Isleif raided the now mostly empty refrigerator.

“Ah, so that is the bondage,” Eirik said after Finnvid stopped talking. Both men looked at me with raised eyebrows. “I have heard of women who enjoy rough bed sport. I had no idea you did.”

“I don’t. I don’t like any bed sport, rough or otherwise.”

Their eyes grew round. “You are celibate?”

“No! That is, Ben and I never . . . Oh, it doesn’t matter. I like bed sport well enough, but don’t have anyone to do it with, okay?”

Isleif returned with a piece of celery, which he dipped into the remaining package of yogurt, crunching loudly as he asked, “The goddess seeks bed-sport advice now?”

“No! For the love of the goddess above, no more advice, please.” I took a deep breath. “Look, I know you guys mean well, and I appreciate that. I really do. But the whole subject of my nonexistent intimate relations with Ben is no longer open to discussion.”

“Nonexistent . . .” Surprise danced on Eirik’s face. “The Dark One has not bedded you?”

The two other Vikings stared at me as if I was the eighth wonder of the world.

“No, he hasn’t, not that it’s anyone’s business,” I said meaningfully.

“Perhaps he is unsure of how to proceed,” Isleif commented around a mouthful of celery. “It is the Dark One who needs our advice.”

I wanted to beat my head on the wall, but knew that would only leave me with a headache. “Okay, new rules: no more discussion of bedding, bed sport, or anything related to that.”

“You are a virgin,” Finnvid said in a soothing voice, taking me by the shoulders and leading me over to the bed, where he sat down next to me. “You do not know what you are saying.”

“Aye, virgins are often confused,” Eirik agreed.

“I’m not a virgin!” The second the words left my lips I swore silently to myself. All three Vikings pursed their respective lips. “Not that it’s anyone’s business. Just forget I blurted that out, all right?”

“You want us to forget you’re a virgin?” Eirik asked.

“Yes,” I answered. “Can we please move off the subject of sex, or lack thereof?”

“We wish to help you, virgin,” Finnvid argued.

I glared at him. “That is totally inappropriate. You are not to call me virgin!”

“My apologies. Virgin goddess. You will listen to our most excellent advice. We are older and wiser, and have pleasured many women. We know what is what, and if your Dark One is confused, we will guide him in his time of need.”

“No one listens to me,” I said, breaking down and gently banging my head on the wall. “I say no talk about sex, and still they go on. Why, why, why?”

“Bed sport is good,” Eirik said complacently. “We enjoy it.”

“A lot,” Finnvid added.

“It is not quite as good as spending a day fighting outside of Valhalla, knowing there is endless ale waiting for us upon our return, but it is almost as good as that,” Isleif said.

“Aye, the fighting is best of all,” Eirik said, nodding. “Although I would put the bed sport before the ale. Ale is satisfying, but good bed sport is vital.”

“Bed sport with an ale wench is the best of all,” Finnvid said with a wolfish grin.

“Oh, aye, that’s so,” Eirik agreed.

“Can we please change the subject?” I begged. “Like to what I’m going to do with you all?”

“Assuming bed sport is out—” Eirik said.

The scowl I shot him should have turned him into Viking dust.

“—then we will escort you to the Vikingahärta, and make our plans for the capture and banishment of Loki.”

“No, see, that’s not going to work because I’m not going to be able to leave for two weeks.”

“Why not now?” Finnvid asked. “Freya will not be happy if you wait when you did not have to.”

“No,” I said firmly. If there was one thing I’d learned from my past experience with the Vikings, it’s that they’d run all over your good intentions if you let them. “I said I would try to help you, and I will, but on my terms. Loki’s goons know now that Geoff isn’t me, so I don’t have to worry that they’ll grab her again, so really, there’s no pressing reason why I should leave before my vet hospital Web site project is done. I wouldn’t feel at all right leaving it, even if Joann at work is aching to have me gone so she can take over the project and put all sorts of Flash elements into it. We’ll just have to find a place for you guys to stay until I’m ready to go.”

“That would leave us time for much bartering with the weasel gold,” Isleif told the others. “We could get new clothing. Freya said we must blend in with the mortals if we are to walk amongst them.”

“Shopping is an excellent idea,” I said, pulling out a phone book. “Let me just find you guys a hotel you can stay at, and then I’ll show you where the mall is, okay?”

It took the rest of the day, and the last of my patience, but at last I herded my small band of Vikings out to a hotel that was six blocks away. The receptionist didn’t look like she wanted to let them stay there, but when I told her in a whisper that they were rehearsing for a movie, she got all excited and gave them a suite. I prayed Freya’s credit card held up to that and the shopping spree the Vikings were about to embark on when I left them.

A feeling of unease grew in my belly until I returned back to my apartment. Geoff was chatting with her girlfriend, so I puttered around online, searching the apartment listings in the town in which my father lived, hoping something reasonably priced would magically open up. By the time Geoff was done talking, the worried feeling had grown to consume my thoughts.

“Geoff, I hate to ask you, but would you mind if I used your phone to call my mother? I’ll pay you for it since it’s an international call.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ve got free everything on my phone,” she said, tossing me her cell phone. “Dad gets it through his business.”

“That’s nice of him. I won’t let my mother go on and on, though. I’d hate to use up all your minutes. I just want to tell her I’ll be going to see her in a couple of weeks.” I wouldn’t say anything about the Vikings, though. Mom still had not-very-nice things to say about the last time I ran into them. I sat back on my now rumpled bed and punched in my mother’s phone number. “I just hope you don’t mind hearing my mom scream when she hears I am going to work for my father . . . Hi, Mom? Oh. It’s her voice mail.” I waited until her little speech was over and left a message telling her I’d call back later.

The next two days passed with relative normalcy. Eirik left a note on my door saying he had a cell phone, and that if I needed him, to call. He and the other Vikings had decided to take advantage of my stubbornness and had gone out to the coast to do whatever Vikings did in the ocean. Sailed around, probably. So long as they weren’t pillaging anything, I figured it couldn’t hurt.

But when I couldn’t reach my mother for a third day in a row, the worry that had continued to gnaw at my gut turned into a raging torrent of concern.

“I think something’s wrong,” I told my dad over the phone that night. “She’s never gone incommunicado like this. You’re sure she didn’t e-mail you?”

“I haven’t spoken to your mother in over a year, not since she sold her house and sent some old boxes of mementos to me,” he answered. “I think you’re worrying about nothing, Fran. Your mother is perfectly capable of taking care of herself. I speak from experience, if you recall.”

I smiled at the dry note in his voice. When my parents were in the act of splitting up, Mom had been very inventive in her spells. Most of it, he tolerated, like being forced to walk backward, an unnatural growth of hair out of his ears, and even the appearance of a black rain cloud that followed him for two entire weeks. But when she smote him with a spell that left him incapable of pronouncing the letter s, he moved out for good.

“I know, but this is different.”

“Why not call that friend of yours who’s with the Faire?” he asked, his voice distracted.

“Imogen? I think I’m going to have to. I hate to because . . . well, just because. But it’s call her or Peter, the head of the Faire, and I don’t have his number. If you hear from Mom, let me know, okay?”

“Will do. I’ll see you in a few weeks, yes?”

“Yes.” I grimaced into the phone and hung up. Taking a job at my father’s Internet-based company hadn’t been a priority for my life, but I desperately needed to do something to turn my life around. “That’s all well and fine, but where on earth is my mother?”

“Maybe she’s got a girlfriend, and went off for a wild weekend with her,” Geoff suggested, looking up from her book.

“Mom doesn’t swing that way.”

“That you know of. Maybe she does but she’s afraid to tell you, and that’s why she’s not answering her voice mail.”

I thought about that for a few minutes, finally shaking my head. “She’s pretty white bread, Geoff. She didn’t even like me dating a vam—” My lips closed around the word.

“A what?”

“Nothing. I guess there’s nothing for it but to try Imogen, if you’re sure you don’t mind me using your phone again.”

“Knock yourself out. I’ve got to write a letter to my nana. She doesn’t do e-mails, and her ninety-ninth birthday is next week.”

“Thanks.” I stared at her cell phone in my hand, my stomach tight with the thought of talking to Imogen.

“Something wrong?” Geoff asked.

I made a face. “Not really. It’s just that Imogen and I were really close friends. Ben is her brother, and when I decided to leave the Faire and go to college . . . Well, it was kind of ugly.”

“Ugly how?”

I was silent for a moment, the memories all but swamping me with grief.

“How can you be so selfish?” Imogen had asked me nearly five years before, tears trembling in her blue eyes, her face mirroring the pain I felt in my heart. “You know what you have to do. Stop fighting your destiny and just do it!”

“Is it so wrong to want some time to just be myself before I have to become an extension of Ben?” I stormed back at her.

“You should be happy to be his Beloved! How can you say you love him, and yet refuse to do what’s right?”

I had turned on my heel and walked out of her trailer at that. Three days later I left GothFaire and Europe.

The memory of that time was fresh even now. “Ugly in that Imogen felt I was betraying Ben by refusing to tie myself to him.”

“You were only seventeen, right?”

I nodded.

“Man. Talk about pressure,” Geoff said, her face filled with sympathy. “Just because you didn’t want to date her brother?”

“It goes a bit deeper than that,” I admitted. “There was . . . Ben and I had a . . . for lack of a better word, a sort of chemistry thing going on. Everyone said we were meant for each other, and I was expected to fall in with him whether or not I wanted to. Only my mother was on my side.” I choked to a stop.

“It was the right thing to do,” Geoff said softly.

“I know. I had to have some time to think about things, and at first, Ben was okay with that. But later . . . well. No sense beating that particular dead horse. It’s Imogen I’m worried about now. If she’s still angry with me, she might hang up before I can explain what’s going on.” I picked up the phone to dial a well-remembered number.

A man’s voice answered Imogen’s phone. For one brief mind-constricting moment I thought it was Ben, but the accent was wrong. Ben spoke with a slight accent that I found out was Czech; this man sounded German. “Hallo?”

“Hi. Is Imogen there?” I ordered my heart to start beating again.

“Ya. Who is?”

“My name is Fran. She . . . uh . . . knows me from a few years ago.”

A brief muffled conversation was held before the phone was handed over, and a familiar lilting voice greeted me. “Fran? Can this really be you?”

“Yes, it’s me. Hi, Imogen. It sounds incredibly lame to say long time no talk, but . . . well, it’s been a long time.”

Geoff gave me a thumbs-up, and gathered up a duffel bag filled with laundry, mouthing she’d be back shortly.

“It has been forever,” Imogen said, her voice rich with sorrow and regret that made my eyes burn painfully. “Oh, Fran, I have missed you so much. Can you ever forgive me for trying to force you and Benedikt together? I was so angry, but then I realized that you were right—you needed to have time to grow up and be who you were meant to be. I just wanted so much for you and Benedikt to be happy together—”

“I know you did. And I really wish it could have worked out. But before we get all maudlin, I’m trying to locate my mom. Is she there?”

“Here with me? No, she went to Heidelberg for the weekend to do some shopping.”

I frowned at my feet. “But it’s Tuesday. Shouldn’t she have been back by now?”

“Yes, she should be back . . . one moment. Günter, my love, would you mind terribly going out and seeing if Miranda is about? You remember her, don’t you? She’s the Wiccan who has those lovely good luck charms I bought for you. Günter is checking, Fran. Now, you must tell me how you are, and what you have been doing, and oh, everything. I wanted to talk to you so many years ago, but Benedikt said we must give you space, which just sounded silly to me, because we are best friends, are we not? But he insisted, and so I abided by his desire, and let you grow up. You have grown up, haven’t you?”

I laughed at the wistful note in her voice. “Yes, I’m a big girl now. Well, bigger, which is pretty awkward, considering I’m six feet tall and built like a—”

“Brick oven,” she finished, snorting a little. “Are you still worried about your appearance? I’ve told you many times that you are a lovely girl—woman—and just because you’re not petite like Miranda doesn’t mean that men don’t find you attractive. Not that it matters what any of them think except Benedikt, but still, it’s nice to know one is admired, is it not?”

“Er . . . yeah.” A sense of horror filled me. Had Ben not told her that I’d broken off with him?

“And so you will be returning to us soon? Benedikt says that you have completed your education and that you are working making Web sites.”

The horror grew. “He knows what I’m doing? I hadn’t realized he was keeping track.”

“He has abided by the rules you set down for him,” she answered softly. “He has not contacted you outside of the designated periods you allowed, has he?”

“No.” I didn’t want to tell her, but honesty compelled me to make sure she understood the truth of what had happened between us. “I just wasn’t aware that he knew what was going on in my life. Imogen—”

“You are his Beloved,” she interrupted. I ground my teeth. Why could no one ever look past that fact? “You are life to him. It has not been easy for him to do as you asked, but he is a man of much honor.”

My shoulders slumped. “Has he . . . I haven’t talked to him in a while. Has he been okay this past year?”

“He misses you, naturally. But yes, other than that, he has been very busy.”

A smidgen of relief filled me. Although I knew it was the melodramatic imaginings of my deranged mind, I had wondered if Ben had suffered because of my decision. That he hadn’t was proof I had made the right choice.

So why didn’t I feel better?

Before I could think of anything to say, I heard a male voice in the background.

“How very odd,” Imogen said after a moment. “Miranda doesn’t appear to have returned from Heidelberg.”

“Son of a pus bucket,” I swore, the fear that gripped me driving away the misery about Ben. Had Loki gone after my mother once he had failed to grab me? “Where are you, exactly? I mean, what town?”

“Brustwarze.”

“I beg your pardon?” Did she just say breast warts at me?

“Brustwarze. It means nipple.”

“You’re in a town named for nipples?”

“Yes. It’s near Heidelberg.”

Oh goddess, it was true—it had to be true. Who else would want to kidnap my mother but Loki, who had sworn vengeance on me the last time we’d met?

Well, that was pretty much all she wrote. I couldn’t sit here and let Loki do who-knew-what to my mother. I had to save her. I had to go to Germany, go back to the GothFaire.

Ben. Was he there? He frequently visited his sister. Would I be able to cope having to see him again?

Did I have any choice?

“I hate it when life does this to me,” I snarled, shocking Imogen.

“I beg your pardon?”

“It’s nothing important. I’m catching the first plane I can to Germany.”

“What?” she almost shrieked. “You’re coming out here? Now?”

“My mother’s missing, and I have a nasty feeling I know who’s behind it,” I said, logging into a travel Web site. I punched up flights to Germany, bile rolling around in my stomach. I didn’t want to go, but there was no one else who could tackle Loki. Besides, it was my responsibility. Loki had threatened vengeance against me because of actions I took, no one else. It was only right I should be the one to face his wrath.

St. Fran the martyr. What a depressing thought.

“But, Fran, I’m sure your mother is fine, just fine. Maybe she told Peter she was going to be away for longer and he didn’t mention it to anyone.”

“You can check on that, but I doubt it. It’s not like my mother to ignore her cell phone. Looks like I can be out there in about twelve hours, if I get cracking. It’ll eat up a big chunk of my new apartment money, but that can’t be helped.”

“Twelve hours . . . oh, but Fran! What about Benedikt?”

“He’s there?” Excitement shimmied down my arms before I told my Inner Fran to get with the plan. I was not excited about the thought of seeing Ben again.

“Yes, but, Fran, I think you should—”

“I know, I should have a long talk with him. And maybe I will. But right now, I have to find my mother.” My gaze fell on the clock. “Crap. Gotta get moving or I won’t make the airport in time. See you when I get there.”

“But, Fran!” Imogen sputtered something, but I didn’t have time to argue with her. I said good-bye, hung up, then quickly punched in Eirik’s cell phone number, trying to calm my wildly excited nerves. Part of me was panicking at the thought of Loki having my mother, the other was focused on the idea that I would see Ben in just a few hours. I hadn’t seen him in almost five years. Would he make a scene when I showed up at the Faire? Would he try to persuade me that I was meant to spend the rest of my life with him?

“This is Eirik Redblood, Viking warlord, left hand of the goddess Freya, and right hand of the virgin goddess Fran.”

“Oh, for the love of . . .” I took a deep breath, deciding to hold off the argument about the Vikings’ latest name for me. “Hi, Eirik. It’s Fran. How fast can you guys get to the airport?”

Silence answered that question for the count of five. “We are going after Loki?”

“You’re darned tooting we are. He’s taken my mother, and no one—no one—messes with my family!”

The sound of murmuring answered that, followed immediately by ear-piercing Viking battle cries. “Command us, virgin goddess!” Eirik declared happily.

“I don’t have enough money to get you guys tickets, so you’ll have to use your weasel money to buy them.” I gave him information on the flight I had booked myself. “Oh, man, passports—”

“We have them. The goddess Freya had them made up, and gave them to us with the weasel gold.”

“Excellent. I hope you boys are all geared up and ready to kick some serious booty!”

“Our enemies will fall!” I heard Finnvid yelling in the background. “We will not fail you, virgin goddess Fran!”

“We will cleave his head from his shoulders!” Isleif growled.

“Normally I’d say I’m not up to cleaving anything, but at this moment . . .” My eyes narrowed as I thought of all the things I wanted to do to Loki. “At this moment, I might just take a swing at him myself.”

The Vikings cheered, and promised to meet me at the airport in time for the flight to Germany.

Geoff came back just as I was stuffing clothing into my suitcase. “What’s going on? I thought you said you were staying for a couple more weeks?”

“That was before my mom was kidnapped.” I smiled grimly at her look of stupefaction. “If he’s so much as touched her, I’m going to open the biggest can of Vikingahärta whoop-ass Loki’s ever seen!”