by Linda Grimes
having a little conference.
I whirled to face Bily. “Quick, go back!”
“Too late. They’ve seen us.”
“Okay, then…” Think. “Uh…” I grabbed him by both arms and leaned back against one of the houses standing directly next to
the street, puling him against me. Al at once I was flanked by fragrant red blossoms, with only my pack to protect my tender
back from the thorns.
“What are you—”
“Play along,” I whispered urgently, hiding my face behind his shoulder, trying to pretend we were just another madly in lust
young couple roaming the streets.
“Ooooh,” he said, barely audible, delight spreading across his face. “Wel, aren’t you the quick thinker.” He gathered me close
and leaned down, only too wiling.
My eyes narrowed and I glared at him. Pay attention, I telegraphed with a jerk of my head toward the trio. He gave a barely
perceptible shrug and said, softly, “Your idea.”
His lips hovered near mine. Even annoyed, I couldn’t help noticing how sweet his breath was. And I had dragged him into it.
Oh, hel, I thought philosophicaly. Duty cals. My eyelids drifted shut. Surely there was nothing wrong with kissing your cousin if it
was for a good cause.
“No, don’t close your eyes.” He puled his head back a fraction. “Look over my shoulder.”
“Your head’s in the way.”
He shifted obligingly, bringing his mouth down to the side of my neck. I stood on tiptoe and tried to focus on the Vikings, but it
was a little hard to concentrate, what with the tickle of warm breath sending goose bumps down my arms.
“Can you see them?” Bily asked.
“Huh? Wha—um, yeah. They’re stil talking. I can’t make out what they’re saying—oh, cripes!—they’re looking this way.
What should we do?”
“Relax,” Bily said under his breath, intently focused on what he couldn’t see behind him. “Tel me which way they go when they
move out. In the meantime just pretend you can stand me, okay?” His lips connected with my neck, and I melted into him with a
smal moan and an involuntary wiggle.
“That’s the spirit,” he whispered.
I forced my eyes back open and saw the smirk on Per’s face. Nils had already turned away, obviously more polite than the
jerk. Nonto’s face was as impassive as ever. No surprise there. Nils started pointing toward the other end of the street, and
Nonto tapped Per’s arm to get his attention back where it should be.
“I think they’re getting ready to move,” I said, moving my lips as little as possible.
Bily twisted me a quarter-turn, to better his view. “Hold on. Two of them are headed back this way.”
He brought his mouth to mine, this time connecting quite thoroughly. I heard footsteps approaching behind me, and the closer
they got, the more thorough Bily got. When his tongue touched mine I felt it in places his mouth was nowhere near. Ack! How
could that happen? This was my bratty cousin, the bane of my existence, and I was tingling at his kiss?
Oh, my God—I’m a perv, too!
The footsteps passed by and faded, and Bily disconnected. I just stood there, eyes shut and mouth open, wondering what the
hel had hit me.
“Ciel? Are you al right?”
I opened my eyes to find Bily staring at me quizzicaly. Honorary cousin, I told myself. And step. Don’t forget step. Not
pervy. “Uh, yeah. Fine, fine. Let’s go.”
“Wait a second. If we folow too closely they’l catch on. Besides, I have to figure out who to go after.”
I disentangled myself from his arms and looked both ways. Nils continued down the street we were on, and the other two had
gone back to the one we’d been on before we turned.
“Why don’t we split up?” I suggested.
“Nope,” Bily said, grabbing my arm and holding tight.
“But how else can we keep track of them al? You folow those two—the blond is Per, and he’s a mean son of a bitch, so
watch out for him. I’m not sure about the Indian. I’l folow Nils.”
“Uh-uh. Not gonna happen.”
“Look,” I said in a reasonable tone, “Don’t worry about me. Nils isn’t al bad, for a kidnapper. He was nice to Mina.” Kind of.
Right up until he tried to stop the Mini with his bare hands. “I don’t think he’d hurt a woman—” No matter how crazy-mad he
looked the last time I saw him. “—even if he caught on to me folowing him—”
Bily gripped me harder.
I continued, speeding through the words ahead of his objections. “—which he won’t, because I’m going to be very, very
careful. Besides, what can he do to me in this crowd, anyway?”
He looked torn, but the seconds were ticking away, and he couldn’t come up with a better plan.
“Okay,” he said finaly. “There’s a cel phone in your pack. Any number in the contacts wil connect you with me, no matter
who it says it is. Speed dial is your friend. Cal when you find out where he’s going and do not, under any circumstances,
approach him. Understand?”
I nodded, and he loped off after Per and Nonto. I turned to catch up with my quarry, walking as nonchalantly as my quivering
knees would alow while stil keeping him in sight. I might’ve overstated my case to Bily a tad. But even if I couldn’t be certain
about Nils, I knew one thing for sure. He was better than Per.
Chapter 19
I didn’t know where Nils was headed, but he was in a hurry to get there. He wasn’t running, but with legs as long as his, he was
hard to keep up with—if the crowd hadn’t hampered his movement, I would’ve lost him.
He had passed his fur bundle to Per before they separated, so whatever was going on with that would be Bily’s problem. The
explosive possibilities worried me to an almost paralyzing extent, but I’d known Bily my whole life. There had never been a
scrape he couldn’t get himself out of, and there’d been some doozies. I’d just have to pray his luck continued.
Nils’s flaxen hair glinted in the sunlight as I folowed his bobbing and weaving head through the crowd, until he stopped abruptly
and looked down. There were too many people between us for me to see what drew his attention, and I couldn’t get closer
without shoving aside a couple of buxom peasant girls who were obviously enjoying a ringside view of his masculine charms.
When he squatted, I forgot my inbred courtesy and squeezed myself as far as I could between the Valkyries.
It was a smal boy, three or four years old, hanging on to a wooden sword half again as long as he was. A circle had formed
around him, creating a mini-arena for the Hägar the Horrible wannabe. Nils showed him where and how to grip the handle, then
whispered something into his ear. The boy nodded and giggled, his whole face lighting up. Nils stood, patted the boy’s head, and
took off at a good clip.
Keeping low and employing my elbows, I made it past the Viking gals. The boy, however, was another matter. He stepped in
front of me, raised his sword and growled menacingly. Wel, as menacingly as a preschooler could. Normaly, I would’ve found
him adorable, but I didn’t have time for adorable.
I moved to the right, intending to step around him. He moved to his left, blocking me. More growling. I searched for some sign
of parental supervision. A couple dressed in simple linen garb looked on indulgently. No help there.
I feinted to the left, and jumped back to the right when kid tried to block me again. I was feeling pretty good about outwitting
him when I felt a hard thwack across th
e seat of my pants.
“Ow!” I holered and whirled back to face him, glaring, which seemed to delight the little heathen, so I shifted my visual daggers
to the responsible couple. They laughed and shrugged. What’s a parent to do?
I had a pretty good idea what a parent could do, and it involved the kid’s backside instead of mine. Not having time to get into
a philosophical discussion on child rearing, however, I turned my attention back to Nils.
Who was no longer in sight. Shit.
A quick three-sixty revealed plenty of blond heads, not one of them Nils. I took off in the direction he’d been going, receiving a
final sword-poke on the behind as a parting gift. I chalked it up to birth control inspiration, and ran through a break in the throng,
trying to catch sight of Nils again before he turned down one of the side streets. I realy, realy didn’t want to have to cal Bily and
tel him I lost somebody as big as Nils. He’d never let me live it down. Especialy if he found out I was outfoxed by a three-year-old.
I was passing a narrow side street when a brawny arm reached out and grabbed me, puling me out of the busy river of
humanity and down the quiet cobbled lane, moving fast. Nils was taler from my own perspective than from Mina’s, but otherwise
unmistakable. I scrambled to keep up with his long stride, taking at least two steps for each of his, and would’ve falen several
times had he not been half-lifting me as we went.
I might have screamed, if I’d had the breath, and if I had a reasonable way to explain my situation to the cops. As it was, it
would be easier to go with the flow and see what Nils wanted. As long as we stayed out in public, I figured not much harm could
come to me. Besides, it was the only way I could find out what he was up to—it’s not like I could folow him anymore, now that
he was on to having a tail. Even if I could discreetly change auras, he’d stil be wary.
He pushed me into the narrow space between two buildings and blocked the view from the street with his body. Guarded
speculation swept over his face when he took a closer look at me.
“Why are you folowing me?” he asked, his voice calm, not at al threatening.
“Uh…” I said, displaying my typical quickness.
He waited patiently, saying nothing, stil holding my arm.
“Wel,” I began again, shrugging. “I, um, like your costume.”
His eyes narrowed and he quirked his mouth in disbelief.
“No, realy. It looks so much more authentic than the other Vikings I’ve seen around here. Is that hand-woven cloth? I was
going to ask you where you found it, so I could get one for a friend. He’d look realy cool in something like that.”
“I don’t think so. Try again, Miss Haligan.”
He knew who I was? Shit. Not good.
“Wh-who?” I stammered. “I think you must’ve mistaken me for somebody else.”
“You are Ciel Haligan, the ‘facilitator’—whatever that is—Mina Worthington visited in Washington, D.C., three weeks ago.”
I didn’t bother with denials. “You seem to know a lot about me.”
“A bit. You look quite nice in jogging shorts when you walk in the park near your home, for instance. Though you realy should
try actualy jogging. You might like it.”
Crap. He’d been watching me? For how long?
“I also know you’re working for Miss Worthington. In what capacity are you employed, may I ask?”
I lifted my chin. “You may ask anything you like. Doesn’t mean I’l answer.”
His grip tightened. “You would be wise to tel me what you know of Miss Worthington’s whereabouts, at the very least. Then
perhaps you may continue your holiday unencumbered.”
“Unencumbered by what?” I said, sounding cockier than I felt.
“By me.”
Gulp. Okaaaay. Thinking fast, I smiled in what I hoped was a flirtatious manner. “I don’t find you cumbersome at al,” I purred.
Or meant to purr. Maybe I squeaked. The whole femme fatale thing was a lot easier when I was covered by Mina’s aura.
He laughed at me. I didn’t know if I should be relieved or offended.
“If you say so. But your boyfriend might not feel the same. Shal we find out?”
I cleared my throat. “Oh, you mean that guy I was with? He’s not my boyfriend. He’s just someone I met at the hotel. You
know how it is—pay a little attention to someone and they think they own you. Thank goodness I finaly shook him. Whew!” I
wiped imaginary sweat from my brow.
“It did not look as if you were anxious to rid yourself of him a few minutes ago.”
“What can I say? I was trying to let him down gently. A kiss for the road. Pucker up and sayonara.” I shrugged, but suspected
my blush was leaking despite my effort to adapt it away.
“I see,” he said, his amusement plain. “Wel then, since you do not find my company cumbersome, you may come along with
me.”
“Gosh, that’s kind of you, but I have some friends I have to meet. Maybe another time.”
I tried to disengage my arm from his grip. He wasn’t cooperating.
“I think they wil have to wait for you. Unless, of course, you wish to take me to Miss Worthington now?”
“Not possible, I’m afraid.”
“Then you wil have to endure my company for a little longer.” He lifted one corner of his mouth in a fetching half-smile.
“What if I scream?” I inquired matter-of-factly, wiling to reconsider the option now that I had the breath to back it up.
He tilted his head to one side, considering. “A smal scream would likely go unnoticed. Go ahead, if it wil make you feel better.
But if you become too loud I shal have to take measures to mitigate the noise.”
“My, don’t you have just the best command of the English language,” I said drily.
“Thank you. Now, shal I block my ears or not?” His eyes crinkled at the corners, and try as I would, I couldn’t dislike him
entirely. Of course, I hear a lot of women just loved Ted Bundy, too.
I released a long-suffering sigh. “Oh, don’t bother. I’l come along with you quietly. Heck, who knows when I’l get another
chance to see Visby on the arm of such a realistic barbarian.”
He loosened his grip, sliding his hand down far enough to grasp mine. “Good, then. Come along.”
Like I had a choice.
We stopped at the far end of a particularly narrow road. The house on the corner was smal, sided with dark, wooden planks,
and separated from the bricked lane by a narrow stone stoop. The door—a lighter wood—was surrounded by the ubiquitous
roses, these a buttery yelow. They set off the heather green doorjamb beautifuly. Very picturesque, if you had time to appreciate
that sort of thing, which I realy didn’t, but wished desperately I did.
Nils knocked on the door with a heavy hand. After a moment it was opened a few inches, and half a face appeared. The milky-blue, rabbit-lashed eye squinted suspiciously at me, and a muffled voice asked something in Swedish. Nils responded, and the
door swung open far enough to alow us to enter.
The room was clogged with large men. They weren’t al blond—there was plenty of brown hair, lots of red, and even some
black. Relatives of Nonto, maybe? What they al had in common was their period clothing—to a man, they wore Viking regalia,
and wore it wel.
Being eye to sternum with so many hulking examples of masculinity left me a little breathless, and I don’t mean in the good way.
More like the impending panic attack way. Feeling suddenly too tiny, I eased myself backward until my pack bumped up against
Nils’s chest. He pushed me toward the c
enter of the room. The men stepped aside and formed a circle around us. There was a
short silence, folowed by a burst of Swedish, each Viking making an attempt to shoehorn in his own question or comment.
Nils gave them a minute to get it out of their systems, said something loud and terse, and they al shut up. He continued
speaking, explaining how and why he happened to have me, I supposed. They must have bought it because they dispersed,
heading off to various parts of the house. Those who stayed kept wary eyes on me while they went back to what they’d been
doing before we got there: stuffing lightweight plastic bags with colorful pieces of paper, and sealing them.
I stared for a minute, waiting for the lightbulb over my head to switch on. A feeble flicker was the best it would do. “Flyers?
You’re advertising?”
“It is one aspect to our campaign, yes,” he said.
I picked up one of the leaflets and studied it. A half-naked, excessively wel-built blond barbarian was flanked by shapely,
adoring young women, each holding a rugged-looking bottle up against his chest. I don’t read Swedish, but it didn’t require a lot
of translation.
“You’re seling men’s shampoo?” I didn’t even try to mask the incredulity in my voice.
Nils flushed. “That’s not shampoo. It’s body wash.”
“Oh. Wel, that makes al the difference. Seling shampoo might not necessitate kidnapping, but body wash, now that’s
something else entirely.”
I guess sarcasm sounds the same in any language, because Nils snatched the paper away from me and threw it back onto the
pile I’d plucked it from, to the snickering delight of his comrades in arms. He quieted them with a grim look, took me by the
elbow and hustled me toward the stairs, which were narrow enough that he had to walk behind me on the way up. The top floor
was even more cramped than the bottom. There were only two doorways off the dimly lit hal; Nils directed me toward the one on
the right. The room was cozy, its scant space filed with rustic antiques. The centerpiece was an old iron bed. Great. Déjà vu.
“Huh. Got your handcuffs handy?”
He looked at me sharply. “So, you have spoken with Mina. Quite recently.”