I squirmed delightedly at the thoughts he was sharing. “Oooh! But that sounds like it might take a while. Especially that one. The
He smiled just before his teeth pierced the upper slopes of my breast.
“Do what . . . Holy Swiss on rye! Ben! You don’t mean you’re going to . . .” My entire body went up in a fireball of excitement as his fingers slid up underneath the midthigh-length skirt I wore (with the secret hope that he would admire my legs), and proceeded into restricted areas. I lolled back against him, my mind flooded with both the sensations of him feeding and the ecstasy that his fingers brought as they danced an illicit dance.
It took longer than he anticipated for us to leave the trailer, mostly because by the time I had recovered from the experience of his magic fingers I felt a little reciprocation was in order, and then we both wanted a shower, and that meant much soaping up of each other, with the inevitable conclusion.
“I am so glad you have strong back muscles,” I murmured an hour later as I walked down the stairs of the trailer. “I never knew a shower could be so very satisfying. Ready to tackle your girlfriend?”
Ben angled one of my old baseball caps so it shaded his face from the midday sun and turned up the collar of his leather jacket. “You’ll have to do better than that if you wish me to rise to your bait.”
Naomi didn’t answer when I knocked politely on her door. Nor did she when I pounded on it and yelled for her to open up. By the time Peter and Kurt appeared to see what all the noise was about, I was beginning to suspect that all was not right.
“Think she’s gone to town?” I asked Ben as Peter approached with a spare set of keys.
“She might have.” His gaze, as clear as honey, met mine. “Particularly if she wished to meet with someone in particular.”
The question was made moot once we saw the trailer. Drawers had been yanked open and were tossed willynilly around the living area. Papers were strewn around in utter disarray. Cupboards spilled food onto the counters and floor, as if someone had carelessly knocked stuff aside in an attempt to snatch up a few desired items.
“She’s gone,” I said, looking around as Peter exclaimed in German. “Without telling anyone, I bet.”
“Most likely. My things are in there,” Ben said, heading for the bedroom. “I’ll just get them and—”
“What a mess.” I stepped carefully over spilled sugar, distastefully eyeing the chaos. “Just like her to go leaving as much trouble for people as possible. Does she own this trailer, Peter?”
“No, it is mine. I rent it to people when they do not have their own.” He looked as dismayed by the prospect of losing a tattoo and piercing professional as he did at the task of cleaning up the debris.
I glanced toward the partly open bedroom door, slowly picking my way down the aisle to it. “Did she take your things, too, Ben?”
He stood just inside the door, not moving, looking across the bed at the wall.
“Ben?”
I stepped into the room and froze. Blood splattered the far wall in a fine spray at the top, with heavier smears lower down. Bloody handprints that dragged downward set up a chill in my gut.
Ben shifted, and I saw the body of a man lying half on the bed, the upper part of his torso having slid in the space between the bed and wall.
“Merciful goddess!” I gasped, starting forward. Ben caught me and pulled me back. “Who is it?”
“Luis.”
I stared at the lower legs of the man, his brown corduroy pants soaked with blood. “David’s Luis?”
“Yes.”
“How horrible.” It was horrible, too. Although I didn’t know Luis, and what I had seen of him at the tyro hadn’t been such to make me very sympathetic to him, he was a member of David’s pride, and I liked David. Beyond that, no one deserved to die in such a violent way.
Ben pulled out his cell phone and started entering a text message, no doubt to David. Behind me, Kurt entered the room, his shocked intake of breath and murmured oaths bringing Peter.
“Who is it?” the latter asked after swearing in German.
“It’s Ben’s acquaintance,” I told him before asking Ben, “Do you think Naomi killed him?”
“No.” He finished texting and put the phone away in his jacket pocket before herding us all out of the room. “He was killed by another therion.”
“Another therion?” Peter asked, looking extremely wary. “What is happening here? Are we in the middle of a therion territorial dispute?”
Ben briefly explained the circumstances regarding both Naomi and Luis, ending with, “I don’t think this has anything to do with territory. It’s my belief that this man de Marco has somehow enslaved some therions, and is using them to attack their own kind.” He held Peter’s gaze for several seconds before adding, “I don’t think the mortal police should be informed of what’s happened.”
Peter released a long breath, shaking his head. “I don’t like it, but no, I agree, that would mean much trouble for the Faire. It will mean calling in the watch, though, and they are almost as bad.”
“At least they will understand about therions,” Ben said. He thought for a moment, then went back into the bedroom, emerging with a small satchel. “There is no sense in having my clothing confiscated by the watch. You will call them?”
Peter nodded. Kurt asked, “Will we have to close the Faire for a few days?”
“Possibly.” Peter rubbed his hand over his face. “And just as we were doing our best business. Ah, well, there is no help for it. I will call the watch. They will wish to talk to you, Benedikt.”
“I’m sure they will. You can tell them we’ll be here.”
“Actually . . . no, we won’t.” Ben and the others looked at me in surprise. I gave a feeble little smile. “I was going to tell you about the epiphany I had this morning, but then you got up, and we . . . er . . . Never mind.”
“Epiphany about what?” he asked as we left the trailer. I was only too happy to do so, the image of all those clutching bloody handprints on the wall one that would remain with me for a very long time. Peter and Kurt hurried off to call in the watch, the paranormal equivalent of a local police force, or so Imogen had once told me.
“The Vikings came back with their sacrificial offerings for Loki this morning.” I stopped next to the side of the trailer, automatically shielding Ben with my body as he stepped into a narrow patch of shade.
“Where are your troublesome trio?” he asked, looking around.
“They’re out where we tried summoning Loki, ostensibly to ready the area, but I heard Isleif telling Eirik that the woman he was with last night didn’t like his thong tan lines, so I suspect they’re really out there working on their all-over tans.”
Ben’s gaze was steady on mine. “Do I need to point out just how odd it is that you have three Viking ghosts who enjoy nude sunbathing?”
“Not at all. Nor do you have to mention the fact that their choice of sacrificial offerings is on the eccentric side.”
He closed his eyes for a few seconds. “Do I want to know?”
“I have them right here.” I pulled up onto a nearby table a small foam cooler that Eirik had presented me with a few hours earlier. “Sacrificial item number one: a pink bunny vibrator.” I held up the adult toy, flicking it on. It buzzed loudly, the pink rabbit moving up and down against the shaft of the toy in a manner that could only be described as obscene.
Ben stared at it. “You’re joking.”
“Alas, no. Item number two: a magazine featuring breasts that could in no way have their origins in nature.” I waved a bright red magazine with the title
“Good god. No, they don’t look natural at all.”
