In the Company of Vampires

I tipped my head to the side. “And I will protect you from him, right?”

He looked away.

“Right?”

“I am fully capable of taking care of myself, Francesca.”

As am I, but we’re a team now, remember? Partners. That means we watch out for each other’s backs, and you can just stop thinking that you’ll let me think I can protect you, but really will keep me out of any form of danger, because not only can I hear that, but it’s cow cookies. Either we work together, Ben, or this just isn’t going to be good for either of us.

He sighed. I will do what I must to protect you—I can do no other. But I do appreciate you watching my back.

That’s not quite what I said, but it’s a good enough start. I took a deep breath. “All right. Trying again. Everyone stand back.”

The Vikings moved back a few paces, the three of them forming a semicircle in front of us. Ben moved closer behind me, his hand warm and reassuring on my back. I have confidence in you, Beloved.

A little glow of pleasure grew in me at his words. I used it to fuel my intentions, set the image of Loki foremost in my mind, and spoke the invocation. “By the fire that burns within thee, by the earth that feeds thee, by the air that hides thee, by the Vikingahärta that holds thee.” As it did the other times, the valknut grew warm as I spoke the words. “Deceiver, slayer, trickster, betrayer. I invoke thee and call upon thee to descend here.”

A spate of very irate Italian emerged from the air as a familiar figure formed in front of Ben and me. “I will not tolerate this again!” De Marco drew a symbol in the air that glowed blue black, then said as he disappeared, “Renata! Kill them!”

Ben shoved me hard to the side as from the depths of the shimmering air a woman’s shape formed, then morphed into that of a russet-colored wolf. The wolf-woman leaped on Ben with a flurry of razor-sharp teeth and claws. I screamed as I flung myself onto her back, trying desperately to wrench her off him.

The Vikings’ war cry startled me, giving Eirik the break he needed to jerk me off of the wolf, his sword raised high in the air.

“Don’t hurt Ben!” I shrieked, dancing around the battling pair. Renata the wolf had her jaws clamped on Ben’s neck, clearly trying to rip out his jugular. Ben rolled them over, both hands on her massive wolf snout, trying desperately to pry off her slavering maw. Renata kicked out and they rolled over again, obviously hindering the Vikings’ attempts to get at her. Ben, stop! The Vikings will help you if you can hold her still!

Easier said than done, he grunted, pain seeping into my head.

I yelled and clutched the Vikingahärta, willing it to blast the wolf to smithereens, but all it did was gently hum in my hands.

Now, Ben yelled as he rolled onto his back, a spray of blood arcing into the air, warning that she had hit an artery. I knew full well that Ben wouldn’t die from just that, but if she managed to rip out his entire throat, he might not survive.

“Get her!” I shrieked to the Vikings.

They did, and with such efficiency that it was only a few seconds later that the bloodied corpse of a wolf lay crumpled next to Ben. I was on him in an instant, pulling back the remains of his tattered shirt to see how bad his injuries were.

The claw marks on his chest had a strangely familiar appearance, but it was the mangled and bloody flesh of his neck that kept my attention. I ripped off a piece of his shirt and held it to the arcing blood. By the love of the goddess, Ben! You’re hurt bad.

No. I’ve lost some blood, but I’m all right. You can stop thinking all those morbid thoughts of spending the rest of your life mourning me, because it would take more than a therion in wolf form to kill me.

Do you want me to call Imogen?

No, but if you don’t mind feeding me as soon as I’m done healing up the worst of these wounds, I would greatly appreciate it.

It took him almost a half hour to recover to the point where he could sit up. The wounds had long since closed, although he was weak from loss of blood.

“I’m sorry, Ben,” I apologized as I sat on the ground with him, allowing him to lean on me as he fed from my upper arm. “If I hadn’t tried summoning Loki, it wouldn’t have gone all wrong, and we wouldn’t have gotten de Marco again. It’s my fault you were attacked.”

“Mayhap you’re cursed,” Eirik said. The three Vikings had hauled off the corpse of Renata—who remained in wolf form, contrary to popular movie lore regarding shape-shifters—and returned to clean their weapons with handfuls of grass.

“Cursed? Me?”

“Aye. Why else would Loki refuse to come when you summoned him?”

I thought about that for a minute. “Could I be cursed?” I asked Ben.

He lifted his head from my arm, his tongue swirling across the bite mark. “I doubt it. I don’t see a curse on you, and it would take a first-level demon or a demon lord to curse you and not leave some sign. Loki may have a grudge against you, but I doubt if a demon lord is after your blood as well.”

“That’s a relief, at least,” I said, getting to my feet and holding on to him as he did the same. He had lost a lot of blood, but he didn’t wobble at all.

Of course not. I’m a Dark One. We don’t wobble.

I laughed at the outraged tone in the words.

“What the goddess needs to do is appease Loki,” Isleif said.

“Get on his good side, you mean?” I shook my head. “He doesn’t have a good side.”

“He likes sacrifices,” Eirik said as he replaced his sword in the baldric on his back. “He always has. A good sacrifice would bring him to you.”

“What sort of a sacrifice?” I asked, thinking about the vast amounts of fast food the Vikings had once used to lure Loki into being summoned.

You can’t seriously be considering that.

I wouldn’t, but Ben, it worked before, when we were in Sweden, remember? The Vikings pillaged a McDonald’s and brought all the stuff back and sacrificed it to Loki. Who knows, the man may have a fast-food addiction! It seemed to work before, so it can’t hurt us to try it again.

“Let us think of people we would like to see sacrificed,” Isleif suggested.

All three Vikings turned to look at Ben.

“Hey!” I glared at all of them. “Stop looking at him like that!”

Ben rolled his eyes.

“She’s right,” Isleif admitted. “Dark Ones are not easily sacrificed. It would take a decapitation at best, and the goddess would not be happy with us when we were done.”

“The goddess isn’t hideously happy right now, so if I were you, I’d think of something that isn’t a living being to sacrifice. Maybe some of Isleif’s squashed sandwiches would do the trick.”

They perked up at that thought, and after asking for, and being denied, the keys to David’s rental car, they trooped off, making plans to find several packhorses so they could bring back enough sacrifices for both Loki and their own needs.

Ben and I walked slowly back to the trailer. He paused at the stairs, glancing across the common area to where Naomi’s trailer sat. “I should get my things, but I believe I’ll leave them until later.”

“Good idea.” Wearily, I unlocked the door and plodded my way up the three steps. “I know you don’t want any, but I desperately need some coffee.”

“You desperately need some sleep,” he said, scooping me up effortlessly.

“Ben! I’m not a lightweight. Put me down before you hurt your owies.”

He chuckled. It was a warm, intimate sound that made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. “My owies are quite healed, thank you. And even if they weren’t, I’d be capable of carrying you to a bedroom. I can feel how tired you are, Francesca. You’ve given me a lot of blood, and you need rest.”