“I came to find you when I realized that you had disappeared and no one knew where you were.”
“Nonsense. I told Peter and Imogen and Absinthe that I was going into Heidelberg for a long weekend, and would be back on Tuesday.”
“Yes, but that was a week ago.”
“A week ago? It’s only Sunday,” she said, shaking her head and giving me a worried look. “Franny, where is your mind? Has Benedikt done something to you? Has he put some sort of a glamour on you?”
“No, but I’m beginning to think someone has placed one on you,” I said slowly. “You think we’re in Heidelberg?”
“We are in Heidelberg,” she corrected, nodding toward the window. “You can see that for yourself.”
“Er . . . yeah.” What has de Marco done to her?
Obviously put some sort of glamour on her to keep her unaware of both her surroundings and the time that’s passed.
Why would he do that?
I don’t know, but I’d prefer we figure it out away from this house. David will no doubt be here soon, he answered, glancing at his watch.
Gotcha. “Mom, we have to go.”
“Go? Go where?” she asked as I stood up and urged her to her feet. She was wearing some sort of silk amber-colored lounging pajamas, but I couldn’t wait to collect her things. “Fran, what do you think you’re doing? Stop pushing me!”
Can you do the mind thing on her?
Not on mortals, no.
That’s a shame. “We have to get out of here. There’s . . . uh . . . a terrorist attack going to happen,” I improvised.
“Terrorists!”
“Yeah. Really nasty ones with bombs. We have to scoot now.”
She argued with us all the way up the stairs, managing to stop us at the top. “Francesca Marie! I insist that you stop this! Before I go another single step, I want him to leave. I don’t trust him, and I know he’s behind all of your strange notions.” She pointed at Ben.
I sighed. “You’d better learn to trust him, because I’m really and truly his Beloved now.”
She gasped. “You didn’t—”
“Yes, I Joined with him. We’re bound together for eternity now, Mom. I love him with every ounce of my being, and none of the things I see you are about to say are going to change that. Now can we please leave? You can yell at both of us later, once we’re out of here.”
“Oh, Fran,” she said, disappointment dripping from her voice as she shook her head at me. “I’ve lost you. I’ve truly lost you.”
“Oh, for the love of the goddess . . . Vikingahärta! Do something!”
I had no idea what it was I expected it to do, but the second I lifted it, Mom gave a little sigh and slumped toward the floor. Ben caught her before she hit it.
“Bullfrogs! Is she okay?” I asked, reaching for her pulse.
“Yes. Just unconscious.” His lips quirked. “I’d say it’s for the best, but I doubt if you’d see it that way.”
“On the contrary, it’s exactly what we need. Can you carry her?”
He hefted her limp form in his arms, starting toward the front door. Ulfur stood at it, watching us with his eerily black eyes.
“Move, please, Ulfur,” I said, trying to open the door for Ben. Oh, goddess! How are we going to get her out of here on your bike?
I’ll hold her. You drive.
I didn’t like the idea much, but didn’t see any other answer to the situation. “Ulfur, move.”
“He’s not here,” Ulfur said in a loud voice, then looked over his shoulder at the door.
“Huh?”
“The master.” Ulfur held my gaze. “He’s not here.” He turned and looked at the door again.
What . . . ?
He’s telling us something, Beloved.
“Great. Just great. How are we going to get out of here if de Marco is lurking outside just waiting for us to leave?”
“We are going to have to face him.” He set Mom down onto a wooden bench next to the door, pausing for a second before adding, “You will need to guard her.”
“I will, but don’t for one minute think I have forgotten the fact that de Marco wants you for his experiments. I’m not going to let you take him on by yourself.”
Ben grinned as he opened the door. “I won’t be alone.”
A blast of noise hit us, my jaw dropping as I looked in astonishment at the sight of the battle that was going on in the courtyard. It was as if an all-out war had broken out at a zoo—wolves in every sort of color were pouring into the courtyard, attacking anything that moved.
“Are those real wolves or therion wolves?”
“Feral therions.”
“Holy jumping saints! It’s Eirik and the Vikings! And lions! And . . . is that the parade?”
“Goddess! Dark One!” Eirik, covered in blood and grinning madly, stopped hacking a gray blob on the ground. “We are here! Just in time for the battle, yes? You wish a sword, Dark One?”
“If you have one to spare,” Ben said, and to Inner Fran’s secret delight, Ben took up the bloody sword Eirik tossed him.
“If you get hurt using that—” I started to say, but at that moment, Ben leaped forward when a brown and gray wolf, spotting us in the doorway, lunged at me.
I love you too, Beloved.
“Goddess! It’s a good thing we bought you a beheading ax in town,” Isleif said, panting as he stopped before me, brandishing a small camping ax. “The Dark One said you would need it.”
I took the ax he shoved in my hands. “Ben said that? When did he say that?”
“This evening, while you were having your supper. He sent us on ahead to get our weapons and lay in wait for the evil one to show.”
“Oh, he did, did he?” I thought you didn’t want an all-out attack force?
I didn’t, but felt it would be wise to have one in reserve, should they become necessary. I believe this qualifies as necessary.
Yeah, well, you could have told me that. I’m going to have a few things to say to you once this is over, buster.
Stop talking to your Vikings and protect your mother.
I knew full well that what he really meant was to stay out of harm’s way, but since someone did have to keep an eye on Mom, I decided it wasn’t worth arguing about. Besides, I had to admit that the sight of Ben in black jeans and a plum-colored shirt battling what appeared to be ravaging wolves was a sight to make any woman melt with girlish admiration. Four members of David’s pride were also in full attack mode, their roars and snarls as they fought the wolves adding to the general sense of chaos. But it was when the first of the parade floats came level to the circular drive of de Marco’s house that things really got weird.
The float was supposed to depict some sort of scene on a river, with girls in scanty mermaid costumes bearing gold tridents, perched on papier-mâché rocks around a glittery river made up of sparkly blue sequins. A man with a huge sword and horned helm stood at the top of a waterfall that consisted of streamers of blue and white crepe paper. A sign made out of painted violet pebbles spelled out “San Francisco Queer Opera Co. Supports Brustwarze.” As they started past the drive, one of the mermaids pointed and yelled in a deep bass voice, “Look, girls! PR opportunity! Let’s join the fun!”
“Someone get the digital camcorder! We’ll be the hit of YouTube!” another mermaid yelled, and in a couple of seconds all eight of the hairy-chested mermaids clambered off the float and had joined the fray, yelling and shouting happily to one another, walloping both wolves and lions indiscriminately with their tridents, as all the while the helmed guy stood on his float stomping his feet and screaming for them to come back and not leave him alone.
Do you see de Marco anywhere? Ben asked me, distracting me from the dazzling sight of the attacking mermaids.