Tesla was an elderly white horse, a Lipizzan I had saved from being turned into whatever it is people turn horses into these days—dog food, I presumed. Just how Tesla came to be with me is an odd story, and even odder is the mystery that surrounds him, a mystery I never did have time to fully investigate. But strangest of all is his relationship to Loki, one that I would never have imagined in a million years if Loki himself hadn’t explained it to me.
“Mikaela!” I greeted the woman with short black hair as she emerged from a neat little house surrounded by pastureland. She was followed by two little girls, both of whom had inherited her husband Ramon’s copper hair and quiet, studied demeanor.
“Fran! And Benedikt! What a surprise. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? What am I thinking—you must come out of the sun, Benedikt.”
“It’s been a long time since that summer when Circus of the Darned joined up with the Faire,” I said, following her back into the house, picking up the littler of the girls and giving her a kiss on the head. “So this is my namesake? ”
“Yes, that is our Fran. And this is Abigail, our older. You remember me telling you about Fran, don’t you, girls?”
It took a bit to conduct all the greetings, admiration of Mikaela’s girls, and exchanging of news, but at last Mikaela put little Fran down for a nap and ushered us out to a gently sloped pasture.
“Do you and Ramon still do the sword swallowing?” I couldn’t help but ask, noting she was apparently early on in another pregnancy.
“Ramon does sometimes, for special events, but me . . .” She patted her tummy. “My sword-swallowing and chain-saw-juggling days are over. I don’t regret the decision, though, so you needn’t look so sympathetic. We are very happy here with the horses, and we are finally starting to make some money, so all is good.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I certainly have been grateful you decided to run a horse farm, because I know Tesla is in good hands with you.”
“He’s been no trouble. He’s quite the gentleman, and has even allowed Abigail to ride him a few times. Walking only, because he is so very old, but she loves him, as you can see.”
Ahead of us was a pasture with a clutch of horses dozing in the sun. Abigail, who my mental arithmetic worked out to be almost five years in age, had clambered through the fence and was stroking the face of a dirty gray horse.
“I’m sure Tesla will be happy to see you, although Ramon will be annoyed he has missed you. He went into town to pick up feed. And oh, we have not had time to bathe Tesla so he would be clean for you!”
“That’s okay,” I said and laughed. “I don’t demand cleanliness in horses.”
Tesla seemed to remember me, although it had been many years since I had left him in Ramon and Mikaela’s capable hands. He snuffled my chest, then my hips, evidently looking for treats, blowing out a sad breath when he found nothing.
“I’m sorry, old guy. I’ll bring you something later,” I murmured in his ear, stroking the still thick-muscled curve of his neck. He looks the same, doesn’t he? He looks like he hasn’t aged at all. Just a little creakier, maybe.
He is Loki’s descendant. I suspect that gives him a bit more staying power than other horses.
True, although you know, I really do prefer not thinking about Loki going all wild and wacky and turning himself into a mare. It’s bad enough that his descendant is a horse, but to know he was once a mare who got knocked up? Just a bit too freaky for comfort.
Ben laughed. There are many things about Loki that are too freaky for comfort.
Amen to that.
I’m surprised that you’re not more ecstatic about seeing Tesla. In fact, I assumed that would be the first thing you did when you got here.
I peered at Ben over Tesla’s gently bobbing head as I scratched the base of his ears. I would have, if I wasn’t in weekly contact with Mikaela via e-mail . And she sends me lots of pictures. And sometimes videos of Tesla wandering around, or of the girls and Ramon with him. Last year, she put a Christmas wreath over his head and sent me an MP3 of the girls singing Christmas carols to him.
There is something wrong with the fact that you are more concerned about your horse than me, he said in a disgruntled tone as he walked around to stand at my side.
I licked his lower lip.
“If you can wait, Ramon should be back in another hour,” Mikaela said. “I do not like the idea of you trying to deal with Loki with just the two of you. He is the trickster.”
“We have backup coming. In fact . . .” I squinted toward the house, where a large, colorfully painted bus pulled up. “I believe they just arrived. Monkeys flinging poo, does that say what I think it says?”
“Flying Maraschino Brothers,” Ben read the psychedelic letters painted on the side of the bus, which was covered in neon-bright peace symbols, flowers, and strange, half-animal, half-people creatures.
“It’s like a bad acid trip on wheels,” I said, watching with amazement when the door to the bus opened and people poured out of it whooping and squealing and turning somersaults and backflips all the way out to us.
“It’s like a bad acid trip, period,” Ben said, his eyes wide as he took in the bright red and black costumes the people wore, some sort of odd Gypsy-belly-dancer-Cossack hybrid with voluminous trousers that were tucked into boots that ended at the knee, gold sashes around their waists, and little red bolero jackets edged in black fringe that spun and whirled as the acrobats—they couldn’t be anything but acrobats—whooped their way out to us.
I eyed three of the booted, trousered, boleroed people as the entire group stopped in front of us with a yell and dramatic pose.
“Goddess! We have come. And these are our friends, mummers who are here to help us.”
Chapter 19
“Eduardo Maraschino,” one of the acrobats said, with a deep bow. “These are my brothers, Herve, Manuel, and Itzik.”
As he spoke each name, the men bowed. I raised an eyebrow at the last one. He was black, and wore a yarmulke. He grinned, and said in a heavy Bronx accent, “The others were adopted.”
“Gotcha. You guys are performing in Brustwarze for the big celebrations?”
“Yes, we have three shows a day,” Eduardo said, twirling the big mustache that curled up in dramatic fashion from either side of his upper lip. “We are the acrobats most popular, and many womens crave our bodies.”
“Not as many as want our rods,” Finnvid said with an insouciant little smile.
“Aye, we won the wager,” Eirik said. “We had eight lusty wenches, and you only had five.”
Eduardo’s smile slipped a notch. “That is because Itzik was sick. If we had had him with us, he would have brought in many more womens.”
“Ahh, so that’s how you guys met Eirik and his men,” I said, nodding when Mikaela, with a long look at the acrobats, took her daughter and returned to the house. “Well, I really appreciate you bringing them up here, but I wouldn’t want you to miss any of your performances. Or attentions of the many women who apparently lust after you.”
“No, no, we have made the wager most profound with the Eirik Redblood, and we always pay our wagers—do we not, my brothers?”
Herve and Manuel mumbled something in Spanish. Itzik grinned again. “Taking out this Loki sounds like fun. Let’s have at him.”
I looked from Itzik to the other three men. “You guys know about Loki? You’re not wigged out by the idea of an ancient Norse god?”