CHAPTER TEN
Crash!
“I was at a party!”
Bang!
“A very nice party!”
Kerwhang!
“In Venice! The city of love! And there were four lovely mortal men practically drooling on me with desire!”
Crack. Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle.
I peeked through the fingers I’d slapped over my eyes when Freya, goddess of love, warrior queen, and evidently Venetian partygoer started her hissy fit. The tinkling sound came from the crystal goblet Mikaela had set out as part of the summoning equipment. Freya crushed the goblet between her hands and sprinkled the glass shards on the grass at Mikaela’s feet. I had to give Mikaela credit—it took guts to stand up to a really pissed-off goddess (even if she did look like she belonged on the E! channel modeling the latest fashions), but Mikaela didn’t budge an inch when Freya got mad at her for being summoned.
“Goddess Freya, I am sorry for disturbing you—”
“And you, you mortal priestess of Ashtar, you think nothing of summoning me from the party of the year? Did I mention Elton John was there?”
Mikaela flinched slightly when Freya shredded her invocation cloth. “I’m very sorry, goddess, but this is an emergency.”
Freya threw down the cloth, spinning around to glare at Ramon, who stood a few feet away from Mikaela. “You! You are a priest?”
“Yes.” Ramon looked like his usual implacable (and silent) self. He didn’t even blink when Freya marched over to him.
I was having a hard time wrapping my brain around the idea that first of all, all those Norse gods like Odin and Thor and Freya really existed, and second, that they would look like fashion models. Then again, maybe it was just Freya—beautiful, raven-haired, elegant Freya—who looked like a model. Maybe the rest looked all wispy, and had big beards and wore horned helmets and things.
“Hrmph. Not worth my time.” Freya dismissed Ramon and turned to consider me. I thought about clamping my fingers together again so I wouldn’t have to see through them, but decided that was too cowardly. Instead I dropped my hands and tried to smile at the irate goddess.
“Hi. I’m Fran,” I said politely as she stalked over to me. “I’m not a priestess or anything.”
Her eyes narrowed as she examined me from head to foot. “You are something. You are mortal, but you have been touched by an immortal being.”
“Well . . . my boyfriend is a vampire,” I told her, praying she didn’t call down lightning to smite us, or any of the other godlike things that I’d read about a few years back in a mythology class.
“You are a Beloved? You do not look like a Beloved.”
“We’re not to that point yet,” I said with a kind of cheesey smile. “We haven’t even gone on a real date yet, although we’re going to do that tomorrow.”
She looked interested. “Ah, a first date! I am the goddess of love and romance—you seek my advice, naturally.”
“Well—”
“Let me see, a first date . . . “ She tapped a finger to her chin while she thought. “Ah, yes! You must seek many lovers.”
“Uh . . .” I snapped my mouth shut as soon as I realized it was hanging open. “I must?”
“Yes. As many as you can find. For how else will you know that this Dark One is truly meant to be your soul mate? I made the mistake of marrying young, and without sampling as many men as I could. Luckily, Od left and I was able to see what I was missing, but I would not have you make that same mistake. ‘Try before you buy’ is one of your mortal sayings, is it not? You must try as many men as you can before you settle for just one.”
She looked pleased with herself as I stood in stunned silence, not knowing what I was supposed to say to that. Evidently nothing was expected because she started toward Mikaela, but stopped, looking back at me. “Why do I feel power from you? Nordic power?”
I chewed my lip for a moment before figuring out what was probably bothering her. I pulled the chain around my neck up, displaying the valknut. “Maybe it’s from this?”
She hissed and took a couple of steps back. “Vikingahärta!”
“Yeah. Is it bad or something? I raised a group of Viking ghosts with it, which is kind of annoying, but it didn’t do anything evil or anything like that.”
“It is not bad in itself.” She tossed her head and her hair, long, wavy, and black, swung backward to lie in perfection along her silver cocktail dress. The dress itself was studded with crystals (or diamonds—I couldn’t tell, although I wouldn’t have been surprised to find out they were real diamonds), as were her ankle-strap silver stilettos. “It’s the source rather than the pendant itself I would prefer to avoid.”
“Fran inadvertently used the Vikingahärta to raise a dozen warriors,” Mikaela said carefully. “We desire them to be sent to Valhalla, but are unable to do so. We hoped you would help us.”
“Bah,” Freya said, using Mikaela’s mirrored scrying bowl to check her reflection.
“Er . . . if you don’t mind, what is the source of the necklace?” I had to ask the question, although I was a bit worried she’d start breaking things again.
Evidently she’d worked through the worst of her anger, though. She stopped primping in the bowl and tossed it at Mikaela. “That is Loki’s valknut. The power comes from him. And because you used it rather than a pendant made in my image, I cannot help you with your warriors.”
“But you’re the queen of the Valkyries, right?” I asked.
She brushed a speck of something off her dress. “Yes. I am returning to my party now, and if even one of those delicious mortal men who were swooning over me has left, I shall make plain my anger.”
“But—but I really do need help with the Vikings,” I said, stepping forward to block her as she started to walk past Mikaela. Her eyes widened like she couldn’t believe I was obstructing her (she wasn’t the only one—my stomach was doing flip-flops at the thought of pissing her off any more). “I understand you can’t do anything about the raising of them since it was with this Loki guy’s necklace, but you are the queen of the Valkyries, so it seems to me you could help me get them into Valhalla.”
“I don’t do that sort of thing now,” she said, waving a hand at me. A big puff of air suddenly swept up and pushed me aside. “The mortal world offers so much more than the immortal one—television, movies, Hollywood, fashion houses—I spend little time in Valhalla anymore. No one there has been on CSI: Miami!”
“But—”
“Remember, seek as many lovers as you can find! You will be much happier for that. And you—do not summon me again, priestess,” she warned Mikaela, and without another word, she was gone in a sunburst of light.
“Oh great. Now what am I going to do?” I asked, plopping down onto a tree stump. “I don’t even know this Loki person. Now I have to hit him up for help, too?”
“Loki?” Eirik and a couple of the Vikings emerged from the woods. Eirik was wearing a sleeveless black mesh muscle shirt, and pair of tight leather pants. Gils had on a red T-shirt with the word SEX made up by lizards shaped like letters, and Ljot evidently wanted to go swimming, because he wore a pair of speedos, flip-flops, swimming goggles . . . and nothing else. “You are summoning Loki? It is Freya you want. She is the queen of the Valkyries.”
I gestured toward Mikaela and Ramon, who were on their knees collecting the debris from Freya’s hissy fit. “She was just here. She told us she doesn’t go to Valhalla anymore because there are no CSI guys there, and that we’d have to ask Loki for help.”
“CSI?” Ljot asked, adjusting his swim goggles.
“TV show.”
“Why did the goddess Freya tell you to summon Loki? ” Eirik asked, slapping at a mosquito. I don’t know why, but the thought of a ghost with a mosquito bite had me giggling to myself.
“Because this is evidently his. Or was his. Or has his power or something,” I answered, standing up to show him the valknut. “So I’ll have to try to get him to help, whoever he is.”
“You do not know Loki, god of mischief?” Gils asked, disbelief plastered all over his face.
“Nope. I’m not really hip to all the gods. Who is he? And why didn’t Freya like him?”
“That would be because of Asgard. Sit, and I will tell you the story of Loki and Freya,” Eirik said, making himself comfortable on a fallen log next to me. Ljot and Gils sat on the grass, putting on comfortable “about to hear a story” faces. Mikaela rolled her eyes as she dumped all the debris into a cloth bag, but she and Ramon sat cuddled on her casting blanket to listen.
“Who’s Asgard?” I asked, taking my seat again on the tree stump.
“Asgard is a place, not a person. It is where the gods live. Loki was at first a god of much mischief, always pulling jokes on the others, using his powers of transformation to get himself out of trouble. One day, when the gods were constructing Asgard, they found they needed more money to build the wall around it. Loki had the idea of hiring a giant to do the work, and thought up a plan to have the giant work without paying him. He offered the giant the goddess Freya if the wall was completed on time. At first the gods were skeptical, but Loki assured him that he would make sure that the giant did not complete the task on time, so that the gods would not have to pay him for his work.”
“What a creep,” I said before realizing I was talking about a god. “Er . . . nice creep, of course.”
“No, he was not nice,” Ljot said grimly, shaking his head.
“The giant had a stallion to help him build the wall. Three days before it was to be finished, the giant was almost done, and the goddess Freya was beside herself with anger at Loki. With the gods behind her, Loki had no choice but to transform himself into a mare, and entice the giant’s stallion away. The giant missed the deadline, and was furious. He tried to take Freya anyway, but Thor stopped him. Freya never forgave Loki for using her in such a way.”
“Ouch. It was nasty of him to set that up, knowing the giant was going to do all the work and not get paid. I don’t blame Freya for being ticked at him.” I was about to add that he’d get sued up the ying-yang if he tried something like that now, but remembered in time that we were talking about stuff that happened probably thousands of years ago. Now you see why my brain had such a hard time coping with the fact that all these Norse gods were real people. So much for mythology. “Well, I don’t look forward to having to ask him for help, but if there’s no other way to get you guys to Valhalla, I’ll just have to gird my loins and tighten my belt and grit my teeth, and all that stuff.”
I stood up and stretched. Even though it wasn’t yet midnight, I was tired.
“We will help you,” Eirik said, standing and carefully brushing off the seat of his pants. “Since you will need Loki’s goodwill, tonight we will offer a sacrifice in his name to make sure that he views your request for help with favor.”
“That would be a nice change,” I said, stifling another yawn. “But what sort of sacrifice are you talking about? More mead like Tibolt used?”
“Traditionally we sacrifice a slave,” Ljot said, peering through the goggles as if he expected a slave to pop out of the woods and volunteer.
“But you have decreed we not kill anyone,” Eirik said quickly when I turned around to yell at him. “So we will, instead, offer a smaller sacrifice.”
“Like what?” I asked, suspicious. “You guys aren’t going to kill another rabbit like you did earlier?”
“The rabbit was on the stringy side,” Gils said, picking his teeth.
“No, no rabbit. The sacrifice has to be something worthwhile,” Eirik said, shooing me toward the trailers. Mikaela and Ramon had already gone off to get ready for their next show.
“What, exactly?” I asked. “You can stop trying to shove me, too. I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what you guys are going to sacrifice.”
Eirik sighed and looked up at the stars for a couple of seconds, like he was so put upon. “I hope the next goddess who binds us to her is much more reasonable. You need not worry, goddess Fran. We will sacrifice no mortals—only many Big Macs will be offered in the name of Loki.”
“And McNuggets,” Gils added. “With dipping sauces.”
“Yes, McNuggets as well,” Eirik said with an “are you happy now?” look on his face.
I smiled. “OK. That sounds fine. Knock yourselves out. I’m a bit tired so I think I’m going to find Ben to say good night, then go to bed early.”
“Good night, goddess,” they called to me as I headed for the Faire.
“Get the rest of the men together,” I heard Eirik say to his men as I left. “Tonight, we pillage McDonald’s!”
“I really do not want to know,” I said to myself, hurrying so I wouldn’t hear them making plans for taking the McNuggets hostage. “It’s just better if I don’t know.”
“What is?”
A man’s voice emerged from the dark time-travel booth. Most of the booths, including Desdemona’s, had closed during the magic shows.
At least I thought it had closed. “Ben?”
“Oh, Fran!” A light clicked on to show Ben and Desdemona standing much closer than I would have liked. Screw jealousy, Ben was mine! How dared she stand around in a dark booth with him. And how dared he allow her to do it! “I was just showing Benedikt my moonstone. If the moon is in the right quadrant, it casts a light in the darkness. Would you like to see it, too?”
What’s wrong? Ben asked, his eyes watching me carefully.
Oh, like you don’t know.
“No, thank you,” I said politely. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed. Enjoy your moonstone watching, or whatever it is you’re doing.”
I spun around on my heels, my hands fisted, my jaw tight. And worst of all, my eyes were watering. I was so mad, I didn’t know whether I wanted to hit Ben or cry.
Are you going to be jealous every time I’m next to another female?
This is not jealousy. I ran up the steps to my trailer. Thankfully, Mom was still out doing things. This is righteous indignation, Mister You’re-the-Only-Woman-for-Me-I’d-Die-Without-You. You know what I say to that? Bullfrogs!
Fran, Ben said, sighing into my head. You are the only one for me. I would die without you. And I wasn’t doing anything with Desdemona despite her manuevering.
Davide squatted on top of the counter and flattened his ears as I paced up and down the narrow aisle.
Oh, I am so not going to believe . . . wait. You knew she was deliberately luring you into her dark booth?
Ben laughed. Of course. I’m not an idiot, sweetheart. I know when a woman desires me. But that doesn’t mean I feel the same way toward her.
I thought about that for a minute. Davide’s ears straightened up as I stopped to think. You knew and yet you went anyway?
I didn’t know until I was there.
Oh. There’s such a thing as being too passive, though. Did you just stand there while she put her lips all over you? You could have left, you know. You could have said, “No thanks, not interested, and by the way, keep your hands off me or Fran will have a hissy.” You could have told her to leave you alone.
You really are silly when you’re in the throes of jealousy. I can’t decide if it is flattering or annoying.
Annoying? Annoying! Oh! I’ll give you annoying, buster!
Davide hunkered down as I stormed past him and yanked open the door to the trailer. I intended to run back out to find Ben so I could punch him in the belly, as he deserved. Instead I stopped as he came up the steps.
“If I were to raise hell every time you spent a few minutes alone with Soren, what would you do?” he asked, walking toward me. I took a couple of backward steps past Davide, who was watching us with interest. “If I screamed and yelled and forbade you to spend time with any man, anywhere—your ghosts, Peter, Karl, and Kurt, anyone—would you mind?”
“Soren is a child. He doesn’t have the hots for me.”
“Like hell he doesn’t. His crush on you is evident to everyone.” Ben kept walking toward me, his face unexpressive, but his eyes were glowing a rich browny-gold.
“Kurt and Karl are having a fling with Absinthe,” I said, backing up another couple of steps.
“Doesn’t matter. They could still be attracted to you, and you likewise.”
“Peter is old enough to be my dad.”
I bumped up against the door that led to the tiny bedroom at the end of the trailer.
Ben put his hands on each side of my head and leaned in, his breath brushing my face in a soft caress. Despite being angry at him, my stomach was twisting and turning happily because he had that look in his eye that he got whenever he kissed me. “How could any mortal man resist such a beautiful, alluring girl as you?”
“I don’t care about the mortal ones,” I said, my breath coming short and fast as he leaned in even closer. I put my hand on his chest and let his feelings flow into me.
Tell me I’m interested in anyone but you, he commanded, and as an answer, I brushed my lips against his, sliding my arms under his until we were pressed so tightly together, I couldn’t tell where I ended and he began.
I might have overreacted a little, I admitted as his tongue flicked over the corner of my mouth. I’d never been one for French kissing before Ben because, I mean—tongues! But it was different with him. It was exciting and wonderful and he tasted like the spicy mulled wine Mom had let me have a sip of last Christmas. My whole body went up in a rush of tingles as I kissed him back, intent on showing him that I appreciated his honesty.
And?
All right, I take your point. I wouldn’t like you to be jealous of me being around other guys. So I will try very hard not to care if Desdemona corners you again.
His lips curved against mine in a smile.
But you could tell her hands off, you know! It wouldn’t hurt.
He pulled away enough to laugh. “Ah, Fran, you never fail to delight me.”
“That’s me, good ole entertaining Fran . . . oh. Hi, Mom.”
Over Ben’s shoulder, my mother’s face loomed angry and scowling. He pulled away and half turned to see her.
She tossed down her bag of Wiccan stuff and stood glaring at Ben. “I thought we had an agreement?”
Ben inclined his head slightly. “My apologies. Fran was upset with me, and I was simply trying to straighten things out.”
“Agreement?” I asked, licking my lower lip. I could still taste Ben on it, which made my legs feel like they were made of Jell-O. “What agreement?”
“If it happens again, you will leave me no choice,” Mom said in a cold voice. She moved aside so the open door could be seen, her arms crossed over her chest.
Ben turned back to me for a moment, caressing my cheek. Good night, sweet Fran. Sleep well.
“Hey, wait a sec—Ben! You don’t have to leave.”
He nodded at my mother, said good night to her, and without another look at me, left the trailer, closing the door behind him.
“What agreement?” I all but yelled, so frustrated I wanted to scream.
“I have told you before that he is not allowed in our trailer,” she answered, snatching her bag and brushing past me to get to her room. “I won’t have you putting yourself in a dangerous position.”
“Dangerous position?” I said, following her to the door to her room. “With Ben? How dangerous can he be? I’m his frickin’ Beloved!”
“He’s a man,” she snapped, whirling around and marching back over to me. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you, and I will not allow him to use you that way.”
My mother has gone insane, I told Ben.
She’s concerned for you.
Did she tell you that you couldn’t come to our trailer?
We have an agreement, yes. I am allowed to continue seeing you so long as I abide by the boundaries she has set for you.
“You set boundaries for me?” I yelled, so angry I felt like I was going to burst. “I am not a child! You can’t treat me like one!”
“You are a minor and my daughter, and I will continue to look out for your interests so long as I need to,” she said, slamming her things into a drawer. “Yes, I set boundaries. Someone had to. It was clear to me that you are naive enough, and smitten enough, to allow Ben any liberty.”
My mouth hung open for a few seconds. “This is about sex, isn’t it? You think I’m going to have sex with Ben? I just barely learned how to kiss him!”
“From what I saw a few minutes ago, you’re very well along in your lessons. I will not have you throwing away your life on a . . . a . . .”
“Dark One?” I said, my arms wrapped tight around myself. I was so angry, so hurt that my mother didn’t trust me one little bit, my body was shaking, my eyes puddled with tears of frustration.
“Vampire.” Mom spat the word out. “He may try to wrap it up in clean linen, but he’s a vampire, Fran. Born of the dark powers, he is a parasite on the living, an abomination in the eyes of the Goddess.”
I grabbed the doorknob. “You can take your Goddess and stick her up your—”
“Fran!” Mom shrieked, her face black with anger.
“Ben is not evil. He is not a parasite or an abomination. He’s a guy who just happens to be made a little different from most people. And he’s my friend. No, he’s my boyfriend. And you can make all the agreements you want with him, but I am not going to honor them. You may not have any trust in me, but I believe in Ben. He’d never hurt me. Never!”
“You foolish, stupid girl,” Mom said.
I slammed the door closed, tears running down my face. I thought for a few seconds about running to Imogen’s trailer and demanding to stay with them, but I knew my mother would drag me back, and I’d die if anyone saw that. Instead I grabbed my iPod, blanket, and pillow, and curled up on the couch, ignoring my mother when she came out a few minutes later.
