I laughed, and after a bit of polite wrangling over who would foot the bill (Ben won), we agreed to go into the nearest town and replenish our energy at an Italian bistro.
Three hours later the sun had set and Ben and I arrived back at the GothFaire to find it in full swing.
“You know, I could have rented a car and driven Eirik and his men back here, rather than making them take the train,” I told Ben as I took his hand to avoid being separated from him in the crowd of Faire-goers. “It seems kind of ungrateful to just shove train tickets in their hands when they were sent out to help me.”
“After what it cost me to feed them, the word ‘ungrateful’ can hardly apply,” he said drily. “I reiterate what I said before: They are not living with us. I couldn’t afford their upkeep.”
I laughed and squeezed his hand, feeling a rush of joy despite my worries. “Do you think the watch is going to be difficult?”
“I don’t know, but I think we’re about to find out.”
I looked in the direction he nodded. Three men in long dark coats and with grim looks about their eyes were bearing down on us. Oy. Anything I should avoid mentioning to them?
It’s never wise to lie to the watch, Francesca.
I didn’t mean lie so much as perhaps sticking strictly to the questions asked and not offering any other information.
That has frequently been my modus operandi.
So I’ve noticed. I greeted the watch members as they stopped before us, one of them speaking rapidly in French to Ben. At their request, we followed them to Naomi’s trailer, and spent the next forty minutes explaining how it was we had come across the body of Luis.
“I take it that it is your contention,” said the tallest and grimmest of the three men to Ben, “that the death was due to a therion attack?”
“It bears all the signs of being such,” Ben said, nodding to where Luis’s covered body lay. “If those weren’t claw marks on his chest, then I do not know much about therions.”
“Indeed,” said the watch man smoothly, giving Ben a curious look. “I find it surprising that a Dark One is so conversant with therion lifestyles.”
“As I explained, my blood brother is the leader of his pride. Naturally, I have learned some things from him.”
“Naturally,” the man said, his lips compressed as he turned to me. “And you have nothing else to add to your statement?”
“Nothing. I do, however, have a question for you.”
Not one single flicker of emotion crossed his face. “We are the watch, demoiselle. We do not answer questions; we ask them.”
“I’m going to go ahead and ask nonetheless. My mother has been missing for almost a week. She works here, at the GothFaire, and no one has seen her since she went to Heidelberg for a long weekend. How do I file an official missing persons report with you watch guys?”
“You do not. We ‘watch guys’ ”—he made a face as he spoke the two words—“do not investigate missing persons. There are other resources available to members of the L’au-dela for that.”
“But what if she’s mixed up in Luis’s murder?” I asked, waving a hand toward the door to Naomi’s bedroom.
One of his eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch. “Do you have reason to believe that? If so, you have withheld that information.”
“No,” I admitted. “I don’t have a reason other than it’s a pretty big coincidence that my mother should go off with some guy no one knows anything about right before a mysterious lich comes sniffing around the Faire, and a dead shape-shifter is found in the trailer of a woman who has ties to my mother’s ex-lover.”
The man turned a stony look on me. “You will explain this ex-lover and his ties to the woman named Naomi.”
Oh, dear. He looks pissed.
I cautioned you about involving them too much, Ben said, putting an arm around me as we sat on Naomi’s small couch and explained about de Marco and my mother. Now you will have them poking into everything.
Yes, but they might be able to help find Mom.
True.
After another fifty minutes, it became apparent that the watch wasn’t, however, going to do anything.
“We will keep our eyes open, as the mortals say, for signs of your mother, but there is insufficient evidence to convince us of her involvement with the death we are investigating,” was the watch’s final pronouncement.
“They are not very smart,” Imogen said shortly after we were released and had gone to her tent to tell her we were back. “Those watch! They asked me all sorts of impertinent questions about Benedikt’s involvement with the therions, as if he had something to do with the death. It was ridiculous, and I told that marble-faced creature that. Yes? Both of you? Excellent!”
Ben and I moved aside as Imogen smiled at a couple who had come to have their rune stones read.
What did the watch guy mean when he said there were other resources open to members of the L’au-dela? I asked as we fought our way through the dense crowd of people, stopping briefly to check that Mom’s stand hadn’t been tampered with. Since I’d sold most of her stock, there wasn’t much of value left in it, but I didn’t want her coming back to a trashed stand.
A little pain squeezed my heart at the thought that she might not be coming back.
We will find her, Francesca, Ben said, pulling me into his arms as he stood at the side of the stand. He kissed my temple, then my eyes, and just like that the hunger was on him, pouring out of him to wrap itself around me.
Goddess! I clutched his shoulders as I planted my mouth on his, suddenly needing him more than anything. I don’t think I can make it all the way to Mom’s trailer.
Beloved, you must not. I won’t be able to resist you. Ben moaned as I moved my hand between our bodies, stroking him in a way intended to inflame his passion even higher.
You don’t need to. The booth is empty. . . .
Ben twisted to jerk aside the canvas strapped to one of the wood struts. I ignored the sound of rending canvas, my mouth still glued to his as he moved us into the dark confines of the booth. The noise and lights and dense pack of humanity flowed around our little hidden paradise, which was a good thing, because if anyone had bothered to lift that torn side of the booth, he would have been given an eyeful.
Feed from me! Love me! Now! I demanded, my fingers desperately trying to undo both his belt and his zipper, while at the same time trying to get out of my own jeans.
Ben, with a snarl, ripped my pants off, just ripped them right off my body. I stood for a moment, astonished by the fact that he could do so without hurting me, but as the warm, close air of the closed booth caressed my naked flesh, other, more primal thoughts claimed my mind.
I need you right now, I moaned, trying to help him get out of his pants. This second! You’re not fast enough!
You’re not making things any easier on me by thinking things like that. And that. Christ, Francesca! I’m not going to make it if you think about using your mouth on me like that! He swore into my mind, grabbed my behind with both hands, and hoisted me up onto the sales table. There was a tiny little tinkle of glass, no doubt from the couple of remaining bottles of understanding (the least popular item that Mom sold), spread my thighs, and surged into me with a strength that left me breathless.
For about three seconds. Then I pulled his head down to my shoulder, dug my fingers into the thick, tense muscles of his behind, and pulled my knees up to clutch his hips.
The sharp, hot pain of him biting me made me moan, but it was the sense of our spirits joining together, of our beings bonded as he both took life from me and returned it, that sent my soul spinning toward a climax I knew would rock my world.
Dimly, as if from a very long distance, I heard a familiar voice calling, “Goddess Fran! We have returned!”
“Bullfrogs! They’re back! Hurry, Ben, hurry!”
His mouth was hot on my flesh as he drank from me, his hips pistoning as I urged him on with thrusts of my own, wanting the physical com
pletion but also that shining moment when we were truly one entity.
“Goddess? Didn’t Imogen say she was headed this way?”
The voice was louder. I sobbed my wordless plea into Ben’s mind as our bodies raced.
Bite me, he ordered.
What?
Bite me!
I didn’t stop to question that command. I nuzzled aside his hair until the tense cord of his neck was exposed, then gently bit.
A surge of ecstasy shot through Ben that was instantly translated to me, sending both of us over the edge. He lunged into me, his back arched, his mind and mine filled with an exquisite sense of rightness.
It wasn’t until we had managed to separate that I realized something was wrong.
Chapter 21
“Ow. I think . . . Ow!” Ben stood with the shredded remains of my jeans in his hands, his eyebrows raised when I reached behind me. “My butt hurts. I must have sat on something.”
“Goddess Fran!” The voice that bellowed was sufficiently loud to stop the nearby hum of conversation for a good thirty seconds.
“Oh, for the love of the moon and stars . . .” I stuck my head out of the torn side of the booth. “I’m right here, Eirik. And no, you can’t come in. Go to my mother’s trailer. We’ll be there in a couple of minutes.” I pulled my head back in, and glared at Ben, who stood laughing. “What is so funny?”
“Turn around, Francesca,” he said, making a twirling motion with his finger.
“Why? What did I sit on?” I turned my back to him, trying to peer over my shoulder at my own butt. “Whatever it is, it stings like the dickens.”
I felt the soft brush of Ben’s fingers, then a painful pinch.
“Hey!”
“It says ‘rstandi,’ whatever that is.” He held out a small piece of curved glass with a hand-printed paper label.
“Oh, goddess! I sat on one of the bottles of understanding. Ow! Ben!”
He chuckled again as he picked out the remaining bits of glass. “You aren’t injured badly, Beloved. Besides, there are benefits to having wounded yourself in such a manner.”
“Benefits? Are you nuts? You try sitting on glass and then we’ll talk about the bene—jumping Jeremiah!” His mouth was hot on my poor, abused flesh. “Ben! That’s my butt! You’re licking my butt cheeks!”
“I’m healing you,” he murmured against the swell of one cheek. “I would take my time over the job, but duty is pressing, so I will make this quick.”
I was torn between the pleasure of his mouth on flesh that was surprised to receive such attentions and shock that he wouldn’t mind at all healing me in such a fashion, but didn’t have time to dwell on such considerations. It took him only a minute to fetch a pair of pants for me, and by the time I returned with him to my mother’s trailer, the Vikings were lounging around telling stories about how many women they had on the train ride down.
“You are the lustiest ghosts I’ve ever met,” I said as I eyed the couch. A little smile hovered around Ben’s lips when I gingerly eased myself onto the cushions.
“We have had nothing but ale wenches since you sent us to Valhalla,” Finnvid pointed out. “Having mortal women who do not smell of hops is a pleasant change.”
“Change-of-subject time,” I said, relaxing when I realized my butt didn’t hurt at all.
As if I would let you go out with a sore ass.
“I’m at a loss as to what we should do to find my mother. You didn’t answer me before, Ben, because we were . . . er . . . distracted, but the watch said something about there being other resources—do you know what those are?”
“Yes. A professional diviner like Absinthe’s mentor would probably help, but diviners are dangerous, and I would not wish for you to consult one.”
“I consulted Absinthe,” I pointed out.
“Yes, but she is just an apprentice.”
“Still, I’m having a hard time seeing diviners as people to fear.”
He made a little half shrug. “Nonetheless, you should be wary. They demand too much in payment. There is another resource closer to you, however, and one that will think kindly about helping you.”
“Who’s that?”
“Tallulah. Or rather, her mate, Sir Edward.”
“Hmm.” I thought about that. Tallulah was a renowned medium, although mostly people consulted her in order to talk to their deceased relatives. Despite the constant, nagging worry that seemed to grow daily, I refused to consider the idea that my mother might be in that class. “My mother isn’t dead, though.”
Ben noted my stubbornly raised chin, but simply said, “Sir Edward’s abilities, and those of Tallulah, are not limited to conversation with the dead. We will consult them as soon as possible.”
“You go with the Dark One, goddess,” Eirik said, waving a hand containing the remote to my mother’s tiny portable TV. “We do not care for mediums.”
“You don’t? Why?”
“Archaeologists are always using them to contact us in Valhalla. They wish to know the location of our villages, and where we buried our dead. It is most annoying.”
There wasn’t much I could say to that, so after warning them to stay out of trouble, we went to see Tallulah and her ghostly boyfriend. She had only one person with her, so it only took ten minutes before we were shown into the small booth containing a table, her scrying bowl, a crystal ball, and three chairs.
“Fran!” She looked up in surprise as we took the chairs opposite hers. Ben placed some euros in the small stand to the side, where payment was made. “What are you doing here?”
“We wish to talk to you and Sir Edward.”
“You can do that any time,” she said, frowning toward the stand. “I do not require payment for that.”
“This is a professional consultation. We want you and Sir Edward to find my mom.”
Her eyebrows rose, her dark eyes speculative, first on me, then on Ben. “I am not a diviner. I do not have the power to locate your mother, Fran. If I had, I would have offered to do so when you told me she was missing.”
“Sir Edward—”
“He is limited in what he can see from the Akasha,” she said, shaking her head.
“But the two of you together . . .” Ben let the sentence trail off, his gaze just as speculative as hers had been. “You helped Fran once before, when her horse was stolen.”
“We did,” she admitted slowly, her gaze now on the table before her. Her fingers twitched as if she wished to touch the scrying bowl or the baseball-sized glass orb that sat in a mound of midnight blue velvet. “This is more difficult, however. Someone has gone to much trouble to hide Miranda’s whereabouts. If that person should discover that we sought to uncover his actions, it could be dangerous not just to me but to Sir Edward and Fran and you, as well. Are you willing to risk your Beloved’s safety for that?”
“Yes,” Ben said without hesitation, and I was comforted by the fact that despite his past differences with my mother, he would do everything possible to locate her. It didn’t escape me that he was also determined to move heaven and hell to keep me safe, but that was fine by me. I had the same plan with regards to his safety.
“Very well,” Tallulah said, rising from her chair. “Remain here. What you ask will take both Sir Edward and myself a little time to prepare.”
I didn’t have time to do more than envision three different types of grim deaths for Ben, my mother, and myself before she returned. I smiled my thanks when Tallulah returned, carrying, much to my surprise, Davide, my mother’s fat black-and-white cat. She plopped him in my lap before retaking her chair, hesitating between the glass ball and the scrying bowl, but eventually settling on the highly polished black metal bowl.
Davide looked at me with profound disdain.
“You smell like tuna fish, cat,” I told him. His whiskers twitched, and he dug his claws into my arm when I asked Tallulah, “Is he giving you trouble? If he is, I’ll put him in Mom’s trailer. Stop it, cat, or I’ll see to it you don�
�t have any claws.”
“I told you before that he is no trouble to me.”
“Er . . .” I looked back at the cat. He flattened his ears and hissed silently at me, but at least he stopped digging his claws into the flesh of my arm. “Then why did you bring him out here?”
She smoothed the cloth over the table and poured a little water into the scrying bowl. “He is your mother’s familiar. He will provide a bridge to her.”
“That’s just an old wives’ tale. Or more accurately, I guess, an old witches’ tale, because my mother never used a familiar, and if she did, she would have hardly chosen a fat, grumpy cat to be one.” Davide’s lips thinned, his whiskers held flush with his face, his eyes shooting lasers at me. Or they would have if he could have managed it.
“You are mistaken,” was all she said.
I looked back at Davide. He squinted back at me, and farted on my leg. “For the love of—”
“Silence.”
At Tallulah’s softly spoken command, I stopped glaring at Davide, shooting a quick glance at Ben out of the corner of my eye. He had adopted a mildly interested expression as Tallulah invoked a trance, but as I watched, one corner of his mouth tipped up.
You are entirely too sexy for your own good. How am I going to spend the rest of my life with you if all you have to do is quirk one side of your mouth to have me imagining the most lewd things?
You will enjoy yourself greatly, both in chastising me for my appearance, about which I can do little, and in being pleasured as only a Beloved can be pleasured. Yes, including more tongue swirls in that particular spot, although I object to you including in your fantasies that object, and I would like to know, since you’ve had no other men, how you learned about devices intended to prolong erections?
The Internet, baby, the Internet.
“Sir Edward is with us,” Tallulah said, interrupting my mental review of all the toys I thought might be fun to use on Ben. She sounded brisk and businesslike as usual, not at all adopting the dreamy tone my mother did whenever she communed with the goddess. “I have told him of your request, Fran, and he has agreed to help you, although he warns that he is limited in what he can see.”
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