In the Company of Vampires (39 page)

I couldn’t live without him. Not now. Not ever, really. I might have fooled myself into thinking I could, but I knew now that our lives were too tightly bound to ever be separated.

I don’t remember moving at all. One minute I was at the door with Eirik and Finnvid; the next I threw myself forward, knocking Ben aside, but leaving myself standing where he had been. Naomi shrieked and the silver light pulsed forward, slamming into me with a force that sent me flying backward six feet into the chapel wall.

Ben called out my name, but as the light enveloped me, I was content I’d saved him.

“How is she?”

Quietly, I closed the door to my mother’s bedroom and turned to face the people crowded into her trailer. Ben was nearest the door, his mere presence bringing me joy and comfort and love in a way that I had never imagined.

Beyond him, Imogen and Finnvid sat, Imogen’s face puckered with worry. Finnvid was eating sardines, occasionally offering a bit to Davide, whom Tallulah had brought back to comfort my mother. To my surprise, Davide seemed to have no issue with the Viking. Perhaps it was the sardines.

“She’s sleeping.”

“Is she still confused?” Tallulah asked, sitting at the table with Peter. Beyond them, Kurt, Karl, and Absinthe hovered around the tiny kitchen area, obviously handing out cups of coffee and tea. Eirik sat on the sink, while Isleif lounged in the chair opposite Tallulah.

“Yes. She doesn’t understand why I’ve made her come home early from Heidelberg, nor does she seem to be aware of de Marco. When I ask her about him, she keeps telling me that’s in the past, and best not mentioned. So who, exactly, is she in love with?”

“We won’t know until she can tell us,” Ben pointed out.

“She will be better in time,” Imogen said, squeezing my hand. “The glamour will fade now that the Ilargi does not have her in his thrall.”

“I hope so.” I slumped tiredly against the door, my hand automatically seeking out Ben’s, smiling at him when he pulled me down onto his lap, kissing the side of my neck. “I don’t know what else I can do.”

“Maybe there’s a way I can help.”

I looked up to see who spoke, not recognizing the voice, and for the umpteenth time in the last week, stared in complete surprise. Kurt, Karl, and Absinthe moved aside to let a woman pass. She was tall, like me, but not so sturdily built. Her hair was also dark and short like mine, but where I had gone for a carefree style, hers was pure urchin. She had big brown eyes, a heart-shaped face, and a hesitant smile, as if she wasn’t sure of a welcome.

“Fran, right? Or do you prefer Francesca? Your Dark One said the latter, but it’s kind of a mouthful, isn’t it?”

“Petra,” I said, goose bumps running up and down my arms.

We stared at each other for a minute; then Ben gave me a little push. And in the next second, we were hugging and laughing and even crying a little.

It took us a little time to calm down, but once Petra had gone in to sit with Mom for a few minutes, the others had left.

“All will be well now,” Imogen said as she hugged me at the door. Ben stood to the side since the sun was starting to come up, sending rosy tendrils of light snaking across the floor. “I’m so happy, Fran, I can’t begin to tell you. You and Benedikt are finally truly together, and he has his soul back, and now I can stop worrying about you both because I know you will be so happy together.”

I glanced at Ben, too tired to feel surprise anymore. “You have your soul back? When did that happen?”

“You sacrificed yourself for him,” Imogen answered before he could. “It is that act which redeems the soul. Didn’t Benedikt tell you?”

“No,” I said, just enjoying the sight of him. He was so handsome he took my breath away, but it was more than just the pretty package that made my soul sing—it was the Ben inside who completed me and made me more than I was when I’d started out. “No, he didn’t.”

“How are you doing?” I asked Imogen, concerned by Ben’s comment that she was vulnerable. “Have you heard from Günter?”

Her expression darkened. “No, and I must admit I’m concerned about his welfare, despite Benedikt’s assertion that he was only using me to get at the Vikingahärta.”

Ben snorted. “Why else would he disappear the moment Francesca appeared?”

“Regardless of that, I’m sorry you lost him,” I told her.

She smiled, blushing a little. “Don’t be too sorry on my behalf. Finnvid has been most attentive in consoling me.”

“About him—” Ben started to say.

“Another time,” I interrupted.

He hrrmphed in my head.

“I can’t wait for you to have daughters, so you can worry about them for a change,” Imogen told him, then turned back to me with an exclamation. “You were busy with your new sister, so Eirik wished for me to tell you that he and Isleif have gone into town to search for someone named Nori. Evidently they caught sight of him earlier today.”

“Again? I wish I knew what Loki’s son is doing in Brustwarze. I wonder if he was who Mom . . . hmmm.”

“Who knows? I will be by later to sit with Miranda,” Imogen said with a kiss to each of us.

I closed the door, thought about lecturing Ben, and decided to take a different tactic.

“What was that for?” he asked when I was finished mapping the inside of his mouth.

“You have your soul back. I’m happy for you, Ben.”

Petra came out of my mother’s room at that moment, her eyes red. “I never knew. I just never knew she was alive.” She sat down at the table as if her legs were about to give out. “Of course, now I’m going to have to see this man you say is my father. He’s in town here, isn’t he? Can you give me his address?”

I sat in a slump at the table, Ben making a more graceful appearance. I was too tired to care. I leaned against him, my fingers twined through his as they rested on his thigh.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Ben said, pain lancing him. “The house is destroyed.”

“Destroyed? How? Why? When?”

Ben briefly told her about our evening’s activities at de Marco’s house.

“The light, or whatever it is that Naomi blasted me with, set the chapel on fire. Although the exterior of it and the house itself were made of stone, the interiors were wood, and the whole thing went up in a blaze. I only vaguely remember it because I was a little rummy from the blast, but luckily the Vikingahärta took the brunt of most of it, saving both Ben and me from annihilation.”

“What’s a Vikingahärta?” she asked, her eyes huge.

I pulled from my pocket three twisted metal bits. “This is all that remains of it. I just hope to the skies that Loki never finds out about it. As it is, I’m going to have to explain to Freya that I’m now helpless against him, and won’t be able to banish him like she and Frigga expected.”

“That’s sad,” she said, prodding one of the broken triangles with the tip of a finger. “And de Marco? What happened to him and the woman who attacked you?”

Ben’s fingers tightened.

“Both disappeared in the confusion of the fire,” Ben answered in a flat voice that said so much about his emotions. “As did David.”

“Your therion brother?” She frowned. “Was he burned in the fire?”

“No.” Ben’s jaw tightened. “De Marco took him.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “If there’s anything I can do . . . I know we just met, and things are a bit weird and all, but . . . well, I guess we’re family now.”

“Yes, we are.”

Ben’s grief and guilt swamped me. Petra must have sensed it, because after a few more minutes of questions about recent events, she excused herself, saying she had a room in town, and would be back later that day to see if Mom had woken up.

“Assuming I’m able to sleep, that is,” she added as she collected her purse. “There was some sort of celebration going on when I checked in, with fireworks and people in the most amazing costumes dancing in the street. I gather the town won some sort of a civic award?”

“Something like that, yes.” I saw her to the door, then returned to sit with Ben, wrapping my arms around him.

“Wasn’t it just yesterday you were telling me that my mother would be okay because she was strong and a fighter? Well, David is strong and a fighter, too. And he knows we’re not going to rest until we free him. So stop feeling guilty because you were resuscitating me and couldn’t stop de Marco from taking him.”

“That’s not why I feel guilty,” Ben said, pulling me onto his lap again, this time so he could nibble at my neck. “You must come first in all things. You are my Beloved, my life, my sunshine.”

I laughed, nipping on his ear until he looked up. Despite his pain, he smiled, love shining in his dark oak eyes, the gold bits glittering with a heat that shimmered along my skin. “You get bonus points for including the sun in that statement. I love you, too, my bossy vampire, and we’re going to get your buddy away from that maniac and his whacked-out chick. Okay?”

“Okay,” he said, and kissed me with enough steam to make my toes curl.
There is a problem, though.

He laughed, and slid his hands under my T-shirt.
I shall make sure she finds out. The problem I was referencing is one of practicality. We have nowhere to sleep, and if you wish for me to do all the things you’re thinking about—ice cubes, Francesca? Are you sure?—then we will need some privacy, and I don’t fancy this couch with your mother in the next room.

I laughed, kissed him again, then helped him put on his coat and hat so we could hit Peter up for the keys to Naomi’s trailer.

“Narng.”

Darkness swirled through my head, but it wasn’t the familiar darkness of the inside of my eyelids, or even the twice-experienced darkness of anesthesia, but a really black darkness that was filled with sorrow . . . and concern.

“Gark,” I said. At least I think it was me, I felt my lips move and all, but I don’t think I’ve ever said the word “gark” before in my life, so really, why would I be saying it now, to this sad blackness that talked directly into my head?

“Mmrfm.” Yep, that was me speaking, I recognized the “mmrfm.” I said that every morning when the clock radio went off. I’m a heavy sleeper. I hate being woken up.

The motorcycle! I had been run over. I was probably dead. Or dying. Or delirious.

You shouldn’t have been driving so freakin’ fast,
I thought back to the voice that rubbed like the softest velvet against my brain, not in the least bit surprised or shocked or even weirded out that someone could talk to me without using words. I’d been with the GothFaire for a whole month. I’ve seen stranger things.

The voice smiled. I know that sounds stupid, because how can a voice smile, but it did. I felt the smile in my head just as clearly as I felt the hands running down my arms, obviously checking me over for injury.