In the Company of Vampires (30 page)

I touched his face, sliding my fingers through the slight stubble that was starting to darken his jaw. “Last year, I asked you if you loved me. You didn’t answer. You can’t lie to me, Ben, so I knew that meant you didn’t want to answer in case it hurt my feelings. Have you . . . have your emotions changed?”

“No,” he said, and my heart dropped into my gut.

His lips nibbled on mine, urging them to part. They did.

Tears burned behind my eyes.
That is . . . oh, Ben. That’s the most wonderful thing anyone has ever said to me. I love you, too. And I really messed up that first kiss, didn’t I?

He laughed, and slid out of me, rolling on his side, tucking me against him, his big hands warm and comforting on my hip and back.
Yes. But I greatly enjoyed your attempts.

“It’s going to be dawn soon,” Ben commented several hours later, as we approached the Faire.

“Then we’d better try summoning Loki now, before the sun comes up. I’d much rather do it when you’re able to be with me.”

My heart warmed at his admission, and by the fact that he was trying to accommodate himself to me just as I was to him.

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. There was the faintest shadow of a thought behind those words, something he was keeping from me. I ran over the seven steps that Imogen had told me were needed for a successful Joining: all of them from the marking, protection, various bodily exchanges, and emotional trust had been completed. So why didn’t Ben have his soul? I made a mental note to ask Imogen

“Goddess! Finnvid is sitting on my hot fried fish.”

I turned around and looked in alarm at where Isleif was trying to dig something out from underneath Finnvid. “What hot fried fish?”

“The hot fried fish we pillaged from the hot fried fish shop.” Isleif gave a mighty heave and held up a squashed blue and white box. “There, you see? It’s squashed. The hot fried fish panini is as flat as a gelding’s bollocks.”

Finnvid looked guilty. “I didn’t know that was there.”

“By the gods, you didn’t!” Isleif looked like he wanted to punch Finnvid, and since the three of them were crammed into the back of our borrowed car, I felt it best to quell any sort of squabble.

“I’m sure Finnvid didn’t mean to sit on your late-night snack, although I would like to point out that you three managed to clean out that fast-food place’s all-you-can-eat buffet, and shouldn’t need late-night snacks to begin with. I thought the owner was going to call the cops on us until Ben handed over his hard-earned money to pay for the vast amount of fish and shrimp and strudel you three ate.”

“You ate a lot, too,” Finnvid pointed out.

I glared at him before turning to face the front again. “I was recovering my strength. And it’s not polite to notice how much a woman eats. We get paranoid about that sort of thing.”

“Aye, it does take a lot to recover from a three-hour rutting,” Eirik allowed.

I sighed. “I told you guys to please move past that. We weren’t rutting the entire time. It just seems that way because you guys insisted on standing outside the door to our room.”

“How many times did you hear the goddess yell?” Eirik asked Isleif, who was busily trying to reshape his squashed fish sandwich into something resembling the original form.

“Three.”

“I heard four,” Finnvid said, idly eating a potato wedge from Isleif’s fish box.

“It wasn’t anything like that!” I said, appalled and amused at the same time. I’d long since given up hope of ever having anything even remotely approaching privacy around the Vikings.

“It was four,” Ben said.

I glared at him.

“Well, it was,” he answered the glare.

“Possibly, but you don’t have to encourage them.”

“Four times?” Eirik pursed his lips and looked with new consideration at Ben, who I was annoyed to note had a remarkably smug air about him. “Just the goddess, or both of you?”

“Eirik!”

He raised his eyebrows at my outraged look. “If it was you who found pleasure four times, then that is nothing. But if the Dark One is able to rut with you four separate times in three hours, we wish to know how he does it. Even Finnvid can’t empty his stones four times in three hours, and he’s happy to rut with anything.”

Finnvid adopted a modest expression.

I looked at Ben. “Do you think the Vikingahärta has enough power to zap them back to Valhalla?”

“I don’t know, but it’s definitely worth a try.” Ben pulled up at the now empty parking field, smiled, then said something in what sounded to my nonlinguistic ears as Swedish.

What did you say?
I asked as the Vikings piled out of the car, murmuring to themselves.

It took me a minute before I realized what he meant. I socked him on the arm, which just made him laugh and put the very same arm around me.
I’m sorry, Francesca. I assure you that I had no intention of kissing and telling. But there is a matter of my sexual prowess to be considered.

He laughed again, and pulled me closer.
Shall we go to your mother’s trailer and leave the summoning for tonight? I can’t guarantee you that I’m up to another three times, but I believe I can at least make you yell out my name a couple of times.

“Summons it is, then,” he said, but he pinched my behind as he said it.

The sky was starting to tint rose by the time we assembled in the isolated spot in the far pasture. I held the Vikingahärta in both hands, ignoring the now faded yellowish smudges on the palm of my left hand.

I cleared my mind, focused on the image of Loki, and repeated the invocation.

At first, I thought nothing was going to happen. The air in front of us wavered a little, as if something might be resisting the summons, but after a half minute of anticipation, it finally shimmered into a swirly oval and parted to reveal the form of a man.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Alphonse de Marco snarled as his form solidified. “Why have you summoned me again, foolish mortal?”

“Bullfrogs!”
What is going on? Why do I keep getting him when I’m trying to summon Loki?

I don’t know, but I don’t like it
. “My Beloved is not mortal, nor did she summon you intentionally,” Ben said, stepping in front of me. “What ties do you have to the god Loki?”

De Marco spat out a word that would shock a sailor, and dissolved into nothing.

“Houston, I think we have a problem,” I said as I sat on a large rock and looked down at my hands. The Vikingahärta looked perfectly fine. I squinted at it in the light of Ben’s lantern. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. So why wasn’t it working?

“Try it again,” Ben suggested.

“What if we get Mr. Pissy again? I don’t like him, Ben. He wanted to use you in all sorts of experiments, and I don’t think they would be fun ones.”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t be, but you need have no fear. I will protect you from him.”

I tipped my head to the side. “And I will protect you from him, right?”

He looked away.

“Right?”

“I am fully capable of taking care of myself, Francesca.”

He sighed
. I will do what I must to protect you—I can do no other. But I do appreciate you watching my back.

That’s not quite what I said, but it’s a good enough start.
I took a deep breath. “All right. Trying again. Everyone stand back.”

The Vikings moved back a few paces, the three of them forming a semicircle in front of us. Ben moved closer behind me, his hand warm and reassuring on my back.
I have confidence in you, Beloved.

A little glow of pleasure grew in me at his words. I used it to fuel my intentions, set the image of Loki foremost in my mind, and spoke the invocation. “By the fire that burns within thee, by the earth that feeds thee, by the air that hides thee, by the Vikingahärta that holds thee.” As it did the other times, the valknut grew warm as I spoke the words. “Deceiver, slayer, trickster, betrayer. I invoke thee and call upon thee to descend here.”

A spate of very irate Italian emerged from the air as a familiar figure formed in front of Ben and me. “I will not tolerate this again!” De Marco drew a symbol in the air that glowed blue black, then said as he disappeared, “Renata! Kill them!”

Ben shoved me hard to the side as from the depths of the shimmering air a woman’s shape formed, then morphed into that of a russet-colored wolf. The wolf-woman leaped on Ben with a flurry of razor-sharp teeth and claws. I screamed as I flung myself onto her back, trying desperately to wrench her off him.

The Vikings’ war cry startled me, giving Eirik the break he needed to jerk me off of the wolf, his sword raised high in the air.

“Don’t hurt Ben!” I shrieked, dancing around the battling pair. Renata the wolf had her jaws clamped on Ben’s neck, clearly trying to rip out his jugular. Ben rolled them over, both hands on her massive wolf snout, trying desperately to pry off her slavering maw. Renata kicked out and they rolled over again, obviously hindering the Vikings’ attempts to get at her.
Ben, stop! The Vikings will help you if you can hold her still!

Easier said than done,
he grunted, pain seeping into my head.

I yelled and clutched the Vikingahärta, willing it to blast the wolf to smithereens, but all it did was gently hum in my hands.

Now,
Ben yelled as he rolled onto his back, a spray of blood arcing into the air, warning that she had hit an artery. I knew full well that Ben wouldn’t die from just that, but if she managed to rip out his entire throat, he might not survive.

“Get her!” I shrieked to the Vikings.

They did, and with such efficiency that it was only a few seconds later that the bloodied corpse of a wolf lay crumpled next to Ben. I was on him in an instant, pulling back the remains of his tattered shirt to see how bad his injuries were.

The claw marks on his chest had a strangely familiar appearance, but it was the mangled and bloody flesh of his neck that kept my attention. I ripped off a piece of his shirt and held it to the arcing blood.
By the love of the goddess, Ben! You’re hurt bad.

It took him almost a half hour to recover to the point where he could sit up. The wounds had long since closed, although he was weak from loss of blood.

“I’m sorry, Ben,” I apologized as I sat on the ground with him, allowing him to lean on me as he fed from my upper arm. “If I hadn’t tried summoning Loki, it wouldn’t have gone all wrong, and we wouldn’t have gotten de Marco again. It’s my fault you were attacked.”

“Mayhap you’re cursed,” Eirik said. The three Vikings had hauled off the corpse of Renata—who remained in wolf form, contrary to popular movie lore regarding shape-shifters—and returned to clean their weapons with handfuls of grass.

“Cursed? Me?”