CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Good morning, Fran.” Imogen stopped on her way past where I was slumped at one of the tables. She looked around the area, then glanced at me, her eyes widenening. “You look horrible.”
“That’s always so flattering to hear,” I said, trying to shake my grumpy mood to give her a smile. It wasn’t Imogen’s fault my mother was so biased she couldn’t understand about Ben and me. “If you’re looking for Tibolt, he went off for his run about half an hour ago. Mikaela and Ramon went into town to have something with one of the chain saws fixed. Peter is off buying supplies for the horses . . . horse.”
“I’ve always felt flattery wasn’t needed between friends,” she said, setting down her latte and taking a seat opposite me. Imogen wore a pair of white linen shorts, white tank top, and gauzy white and silver blouse over it. “You must have been up early to see everyone about their business.”
I eyed the tan leg she swung next to me. “Why is it that female Moravians can get a tan, but the men can’t tolerate the sunlight?”
“It has something to do with the nature of the original curse, I believe,” Imogen said, shrugging slightly as she sipped her latte. “Now, are you going to tell my why you look so horrid this morning, or shall I have to guess?”
“Mom and I had a fight over Ben.”
“Ah,” she said, nodding.
I flicked a piece of orange peel from my breakfast into the nearby trash. “You’re not surprised?”
“That your mother is threatened by Benedikt? No. She would not be a loving parent if she wasn’t concerned for you.”
“Oh, not you too,” I said, rubbing my forehead. “I’m sixteen. I’m not a child! I don’t need someone watching out for me. I’m perfectly able to take care of myself. I’m a Beloved, for heaven’s sake!”
“No, Fran, you’re not,” she said, setting down her cup and taking my hand in hers. I’d only recently started allowing Imogen to touch my hands. She had a lot of emotions that I didn’t think were any of my business, but I knew she loved Ben, and liked me a lot, so I didn’t flinch when she took my hand, giving it a little squeeze. “You were born to be his Beloved, yes. But you have not yet completed the seven steps to Joining with him, and until you do that, you cannot comprehend what it is to bind yourself to one man for an eternity. You cannot imagine what you will be sacrificing in order to be his Beloved. Your mother understands some of that, and she’s just trying to protect you as best she can.”
I made a face. “I doubt it. She’s just being a control freak and trying to keep me under her thumb. She still thinks I’m a little kid, and I’m not!”
“Of course you’re not. You have great powers, but more important”—Imogen drew a ward over my chest—“you have a large caring heart. You put other people before yourself, and no child would do that. But you do have to give your mother a little credit for wanting to keep you from being hurt. She has seen more of the world than you have.”
“I know.” I sighed, my anger melting slightly. “Although she hasn’t raised a herd of Vikings, or killed a demon. And she’s not dating a vampire.”
Imogen smiled. “I have an uncle she might like—but that’s neither here nor there. Now, other than your fight with Miranda, what are you looking so very blue about?”
“Oh . . . everything.” I flicked the last bit of orange skin into the trash. “The date tonight. The Vikings I can’t seem to send home. Tesla missing, and me helpless to find him. Ben keeping secrets from me.”
“Very well. I was going to have a swim with Tibolt today, but you need my help far more than he needs to pay attention to me.” Imogen set her cup down.
I giggled at the way she phrased her plans for Tibolt.
“Let us take this step by step. Your date tonight with Benedikt—your mother has not forbidden you to go out with him?”
“No. And she’d better not,” I said, thinning my lips.
“Good. Your outfit you have taken care of. That just leaves the setting, and that’s up to Benedikt. I have given you valuable advice on how to act, so I don’t see that you have any worries where the date itself is concerned.”
“Well . . . I’m a bit worried about the Vikings.”
“Why?” Imogen asked. “I haven’t seen them attack anyone lately.”
Timing is everything. At that moment Isleif strolled by, wearing a pair of scarlet-and-orange-striped biking pants and purple tank top. In one hand he had his hunting bow, the other a book of dog breeds. “Good morning, goddess, Imogen. I’m going hunting for poodles. Would you like to join me? I hope to get enough to make a pair of poodle-fur leggings.”
I looked at Imogen.
She sighed.
“If we run across a herd of them, I should have enough pelts to make you a pair as well,” Isleif generously offered.
“Are there any poodles on the island?” I asked Imogen under my breath.
“Not that I’ve seen. No one lives here but the archaeology people, and they only have golden retrievers.”
“Knock yourself out,” I said to Isleif. He stared in surprise. “Um. I mean, go right ahead. Have fun. Happy . . . er . . . poodling.”
“Very well,” Imogen said as he walked away. “I concede that the Vikings are an issue, although I’d like to point out that Finnvid has not been any trouble, and has a most delicious way with . . . but that’s beside the point.”
“Not to mention way too much information.” I smiled.
“Next on your list is Tesla, and I believe you and Benedikt have done all you can there. I wish there was something I knew of to help, but short of hiring a detective to investigate—something that would be bound to cost a great deal of money—I’m at a loss.”
I rubbed my forehead again. The headache I thought I’d gotten rid of this morning was back. “Yeah, me too.”
“And as for Benedikt keeping secrets—you must realize, Fran, that he has commitments to people other than yourself.”
“I know that. He told me about his blood brother. Or rather, he told me that he couldn’t tell me about him. Something about an oath. Which I understand, I really do. But it’s still kind of annoying to have him disappear for a month and pop back up and not say where he’s been. Or go off for the night and come back almost dead!”
“I admit that last annoyed me, as well,” she agreed. “But you must learn to trust Benedikt. He would never do anything that would harm you.”
“I know that. I just hate that he’s off doing probably really neat things without me.”
She smiled. “I sense that your feelings for him are becoming deeper than perhaps you realize.”
“Not going there,” I said, sighing again. Sometimes life seemed so overwhelming.
“All right, we won’t. Out of your four issues, I believe only one is a legitimate concern, and I can help you with that.”
“With the Vikings?” I stopped rubbing my forehead to squint into the morning sun that shone over her shoulders.
“Yes. You wish to send them to Valhalla, correct?”
“Yeah.” I told her what had happened the night before. “I was going to summon this Loki god guy, but Mikaela went off to get a chain saw fixed, so I’m stuck waiting until they get back.”
“Nonsense,” Imogen said, drinking the last of her latte and throwing the paper cup into the trash. She stood, dusting herself off. “You have me.”
“I do?” I got up slowly, not sure what she was getting at.
“Yes, you do. I shall summon the god Loki, and you will lay your case before him.”
“But . . . you’re not a witch. Or a priestess, for that matter.”
“No, I’m Moravian. That is infinitely better,” she said without the slightest trace of arrogance. I followed her to her trailer, and waited while she dug out a book of invocations and grabbed a few odd items from one of the drawers under her couch. I glanced a couple of times at the door to her bedroom, knowing Ben must be in there since he usually slept through the early part of the day, when the sun was at its strongest.
“Shall we?”
I nodded and trotted obediently at her heels as we made our way through the just-waking-up fair to a small sandy area that jutted out of a rocky stretch of beach.
“This is a nice quiet place where we shouldn’t be disturbed,” she said, nodding at me to set my armload down. I helped her spread out a blanket, pour a little water into a metal chalice, and lay out some flowers, a big black feather, and a large curved animal claw.
“Have you done this much?” I asked, chewing my lip a little as she consulted her book.
“Not with Norse gods, no. But it can’t be that hard if Mikaela did it. Now, let’s see . . . for the earth we have purified water and—just grab a handful of dirt, would you? Set it in that little cup. Perfect. Nature is represented by the flowers, and the animal kingdom by the feather and bear claw. Hmm.” She looked up, her lips pursed. “It says to summon a god we must first be in a religion that honors the god, or possess a personal talisman of the god himself. Did Freya say that amulet belonged to Loki?”
I shook my head. “She just said it had his power in it.”
She looked thoughtful for a second or two before closing the book. “That sounds good enough to me. You’ll have to do the invocation since the amulet is yours.”
“Um . . . I don’t know what invocation to use for him.”
She flipped through the book for a few minutes before closing it again. “I believe we just make something up. So long as it’s about Loki, asking for his help, and using the amulet to reach him, it should be all right.”
“OK. I’m not very good at this, but anything is worth a shot to get the Vikings on their way.”
“I’ll help. How do invocations usually start?”
I thought for a minute, then knelt behind the arrangement of elements that we’d laid out. “By leaf and flower, by water and earth, by feather and claw, I do invoke thee, Loki.”
“Oh, that’s very nice,” Imogen said, looking impressed.
“Thanks. I do sometimes listen to my mother.”
She smiled at my grin, then looked serious. “How about this next—‘shape changer, sky traveler, god of fire riding in the sky, descend upon your daughters, we beseech thee.’”
“Wow. You’re good,” I said, then repeated the words to make sure I remembered them. The valknut started glowing hot under my shirt. I pulled it out, showing it to Imogen.
“Oooh, it’s glowing! That must mean it’s working.”
“I hope. Let’s see . . . ‘aid me in my time of need, oh Loki whose power moves the universe.’”
“Appealing to his vanity—excellent choice,” Imogen said, nodding.
“Um . . . what next? I’m drawing a blank.”
“Oh, let me. I know a little something about Norse mythology. I must know something about Loki that we can use . . . hmm. Let’s try this: ‘Loki Laufeyiarson, full of fire, strong in spirit, searing all with your splendor, grant me your presence!’ Then repeat the first part again.”
“Eh . . . did you say Laufeyiarson?” I asked, wondering if that was a common name.
“Yes. Loki is the son of Farbauti and Laufrey, if I remember my mythology correct. Why?”
“It’s just that I know someone with that name . . . naw. It’s got to be a coincidence. OK, here I go. Let’s hope this works.”
I spent a few moments clearing my mind of extraneous thoughts, took a couple of deep breaths as I got a firm grip on the valknut, mentally spelled out the word Loki in my head to use as a focusing image, and then spoke the full invocation.
“. . . by leaf and flower, water and earth, feather and claw, I invoke thee now!” I finished, staring at my hand where the valknut suddenly burst forth with blinding light.
“Imogen?” I asked, trying to shade my eyes against the bright light. It was like staring into one of those huge arc lights they use for movie premieres—or so I imagined, never having been idiot enough to do that. “Are you OK?”
“Yes. Did it work? I can’t see anything.”
“I think it’s fading,” I said, squinting. The light in the center of the starburst changed, turning black as a man’s shape formed and turned into a person.
“Who summons me?” the furious voice of a man asked. I still had sunspots in my eyes, but as I blinked them away, I got a good look at the god we’d summoned.
‘”You!” I yelled, gritting my teeth. “I want my horse back!”
The red-haired man who’d offered me a thousand bucks for Tesla looked startled for a moment, his eyes quickly narrowing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do,” I snarled, marching up to him, shaking my fist at him. “I want Tesla back! Don’t you dare deny you took him, because you’re the only one who has been interested in him. Now, where is he? What did you do to him? Is he all right? Is he getting enough to eat? I swear by all that’s holy, if you’ve hurt him, I’m going to kick you in the happy sacks so hard, you won’t be able to walk for a week!”
“Fran!” Imogen shrieked, running to stand next to me, pulling down the fist I was waving under Mr. Laufeyiarson’s nose. “One does not threaten to kick a god, let alone to emasculate him. I take it you know Loki?”
“I have never met this deranged, violent young woman before,” Loki Laufeyiarson lied. He didn’t seem to be overly concerned about my threats, either, but I didn’t let that stop me.
“Oh, I know him. He offered me a thousand bucks for Tesla, and when I wouldn’t sell him, he stole poor Tesla! You may be a god, but you just can’t go around stealing other people’s horses!”
Loki pulled himself up until he was several inches taller than me. I wondered for a moment how he did that, then remembered—Norse god. Probably growing a couple of inches was no big deal to him. “I am one of the Elders, mortal. I can do whatever I desire.”
“Yeah? Well, maybe I should just call Freya back. I bet she’d have something to say about that. And maybe that Odin guy, too. Isn’t he supposed to be the head god?”
A little something flashed in his brown eyes, something like worry. I smiled to myself, happy I’d found a pressure point.
“All right,” he said, kind of grinding his teeth as he spoke. “Since you summoned me for this purpose, I will put your mind at rest and admit I took the horse you call Tesla. But I had a very good reason for doing so.”
“Yeah? What would that be?” I asked, worried he was going to say he used to own Tesla. One of the problems of getting a horse without its history is that you never quite know just who owned him over the years.
“He is an offspring of mine.”
