“You aren’t a couple of what?” Finnvid asked.
“Nothing. It doesn’t matter. Tell me about this thing with Freya. Why does she want Loki banned? And how on earth does she expect me to do anything about it?”
“You are the goddess Fran, bearer of the Vikingahärta,” Eirik said, releasing my hand when I tugged firmly. “Freya knows you have the power to defeat Loki, since you have done so in the past.”
“I didn’t defeat him, per se,” I said, mentally going over the events almost five years in the past. “We kind of hit a deadlock. And as for the Vikingahärta . . . I don’t have it.”
The three Vikings goggled at me. Eirik dropped his piece of chicken. “You don’t?” he asked, absently wiping his fingers on his wool tunic.
“No. It’s in Europe. I left it with Imogen.”
“Imogen,” Finnvid drawled, a wicked smile coming to his face. “How I have missed her.”
“Uh-huh.” I gave him a look that told him I wasn’t buying it. His smile grew broader. “She’s keeping it safe for me. I didn’t feel it was right to bring it with me when I went to college, and I haven’t seen Imogen since I left Europe.”
“Then you must retrieve it from her,” Eirik said, picking up the chicken and blowing on it. He must have seen my face because he added, “Five-second rule.”
I gawked at him. “You know about the five-second rule?”
He shrugged. “Odin has many televisions. Sometimes he lets us watch MythBusters. There was a show about the five-second rule.”
I held up my hands, having too many difficulties trying to picture a bunch of Viking ghosts sitting around watching TV. “Let’s get back to Loki, shall we? Freya sent you to me to help get rid of him?”
“Aye. She was impressed with how bravely we fought against him before,” Isleif said. He suddenly brightened as he turned to the other two men. “We can pillage a McDonald’s again!”
“McDonald’s!” Finnvid and Eirik exclaimed in unison, their faces filled with delight.
“Oh, for the love of the birds in the trees . . . you guys know the rules! No pillaging!”
Finnvid patted me on the shoulder. “You need not get yourself roused with anger, goddess Fran. Freya gave Eirik much gold to spend while we aid you.”
Eirik pulled out a credit card. “We have weasel gold.”
“That’s Visa Gold, not weasel . . . Oh, never mind. Just be sure you use that and don’t pillage anything.” I took a deep breath. “I don’t know why Freya thinks I can banish Loki, and frankly, the aborted kidnapping of Geoff notwithstanding, I’d rather be left in peace.”
“Goddess Freya wishes you to banish Loki as soon as you can,” Isleif told me, struggling to get out of the beanbag chair. Eirik and Finnvid were rummaging around in the fridge, murmuring softly to themselves over my yogurts and Geoff’s leftover take-out chicken. I gave Isleif my hand, planted my feet firmly, and did my best not to topple over when he managed to get to his feet. “He is scaring away the dolphins.”
I was getting a little tired of all the goggling and gawking, but there was nothing else I could do at such a bizarre statement. “Huh?”
“He scares away the dolphins. Is that chicken I smell? Excellent. I am very hungry. I will eat a whole one myself.”
“What dolphins?” I asked, tugging on the sleeve of the linen shirt he wore beneath his wool tunic.
“The ones at Asgard.” He frowned as Finnvid handed him a lemon crème yogurt. “There is no more chicken?”
“Eirik is eating it.”
“The goddess will get us more,” Eirik answered around a mouthful of fried chicken breast, little crumbs flying from his mouth.
“The goddess will do no such thing. You boys can feed yourselves.”
“She is right. We have the weasel gold,” Finnvid said, sucking on a wing.
“Low-fat? I do not want low-fat,” Isleif declared, examining the yogurt. “I need fat to maintain my strength.”
“You have dolphins in Valhalla?” I asked Eirik.
“No. We have fighting and blood and ale wenches in Valhalla,” he corrected. “The dolphins are in Asgard.”
“But I thought—” I stopped, confused.
“Valhalla is part of Asgard. Some years ago, Odin moved it to the Bahamas because Frigga wished to swim with the dolphins.”
“Your Nordic heaven place is in the Bahamas?” I asked, incredulous.
“I just said so. Loki scares the dolphins away. Frigga is most angry with him, and tried to have him banished from Asgard, but Odin refused. He said that Loki lost much standing with the other members of the Aesir when you defeated him, and it would be cruel to take Asgard from him.”
“I didn’t defeat him. It was a deadlock.”
Eirik shrugged, cracking the chicken bones and sucking on the ends. “That is not what the gods think. Loki has been stomping around Asgard muttering about revenge for the last few years. Frigga demanded Freya’s help, and she turned to us, charging us with aiding you to do the job. That is why she gave us solid forms—to help you.”
I sank bonelessly onto my bed. Eirik sat next to me, still sucking on the chicken bone. “I wish I could help, but I don’t know what I can do. I don’t have the Vikingahärta, and even if I did, Loki probably wouldn’t let himself be banished with it.”
“We will come up with a plan,” Isleif said, frowning as Finnvid sucked down a container of yogurt in one slurp. “We will need equipment, however. The weasel gold will get us that.”
“I will need a laptop,” Finnvid said, wiping his mouth. “I left mine in Valhalla.”
“We will all need new spears and shields. And the goddess will need a ladies’ beheading ax, since she did not get one the last time we went shopping for her,” Eirik said, nodding toward me.
“Oh, no, not again,” I moaned, wanting to curl up into a little ball.
“I will need a new bow, since Birta, my wife, broke mine over my head when I tried to shoot her cats.”
I stared at him in abject horror.
“I thought they were sick and needed to be put out of their misery,” he said quickly, looking offended. “I was trying to help them, but Birta didn’t see it that way. And in the end, it turned out to be balls of hair that were distressing them.”
“I think I like your wife,” I said, giving him a long, hard look. “A lot.”
He grinned suddenly. “She would approve of you, too, goddess.”
“That’s nice, but in truth, neither here nor there.” I got off the bed and folded my hands as I faced the three Vikings. “There’s no way I’m going to get out of this, is there?”
“No,” Eirik said. “Why would you want to?”
I sighed. “Right. Since Loki brought this fight to me by nabbing Geoff, then I guess I don’t have any choice but to take care of him. I will do what I can to help you guys—or rather, let you help me—but I need a couple of weeks first to wrap up a big work project. Once that is done, then I can get the Vikingahärta from Imogen and we’ll go from there, okay? In the meantime, it was wonderful to see you again, and if you check back with me two weeks from now, I’ll be able to tell you when we leave.”
They looked confused. “Check back with you?” Finnvid asked.
“We must stay with you,” Eirik said, shaking his head. “We have given our oath to Freya to aid you.”
Panic hit me hard and hot. “You can’t stay with me! I only have this little apartment, and I share it with another woman! There’s no room for you here, not to mention the distraction you’d be!”
“We are not leaving you until we have banished Loki,” Eirik said with a firmness that made my stomach clench up. The other two Vikings nodded.
“But what am I going to tell Geoff—”
As if her name was an invocation, the door opened and Geoff walked in, freezing when she took in the sight of three large men in Viking wear. “Uh . . .”
“Oh, bullfrogs!” I swore, plopping down onto my bed as I dropped my head onto my h
ands.
Chapter 3
“Your bondage group really gets into their personas,” Geoff marveled as I wondered what I could do to escape the hell my life had suddenly become. “Wow. Those are some inventive outfits. Kind of like Ren Faire meets Mistress Sadista. Most of the bondage ensembles I’ve seen have just consisted of a hood and banana hammock, and maybe some chest restraints. But your group is really . . . interesting. I really like the weapons.”
“Bondage!” Eirik said in an outraged tone. “We are not slaves! We are the masters of slaves!”
Geoff sidled over to me and said in a whisper, “Seriously, three tops to one bottom? You don’t want to go there.”
“That’s not what she means,” I told Eirik before turning back to Geoff with a speculative glance. “How much money would it take for you to leave for two weeks? ”
“Leave? Here?” Rather than looking angry, she looked intrigued. “Why? Oh my god, you’re going to have some sort of bondage group orgy, aren’t you?”
“No orgy!” I said quickly, frowning as Finnvid’s expression turned hopeful. “And they’re not part of my bondage group.”
“We will be happy to have an orgy if you wish, goddess,” Eirik offered.
“If they’re not part of your bondage group, then who are they?” Geoff asked, and I had to admit that was a reasonable question.
“We are Vikings, sons of Valhalla, and we have come to help the goddess Fran banish the trickster Loki to the Akasha,” Eirik answered before I could think of an answer.
“Ah. Actors,” she said, enlightenment dawning in her eyes as she nodded. She peeled off the other T-shirt she wore and grabbed a bath towel. “I didn’t know you were doing the drama thing this semester, but knock yourselves out. I’m going to take a shower.”
I waited until the door closed before turning on the three Viking ghosts. “You guys cannot stay here.”
Finnvid and Eirik had been whispering together while Isleif raided the now mostly empty refrigerator.
“Ah, so that is the bondage,” Eirik said after Finnvid stopped talking. Both men looked at me with raised eyebrows. “I have heard of women who enjoy rough bed sport. I had no idea you did.”
“I don’t. I don’t like any bed sport, rough or otherwise.”
Their eyes grew round. “You are celibate?”
“No! That is, Ben and I never . . . Oh, it doesn’t matter. I like bed sport well enough, but don’t have anyone to do it with, okay?”
Isleif returned with a piece of celery, which he dipped into the remaining package of yogurt, crunching loudly as he asked, “The goddess seeks bed-sport advice now?”
“No! For the love of the goddess above, no more advice, please.” I took a deep breath. “Look, I know you guys mean well, and I appreciate that. I really do. But the whole subject of my nonexistent intimate relations with Ben is no longer open to discussion.”
“Nonexistent . . .” Surprise danced on Eirik’s face. “The Dark One has not bedded you?”
The two other Vikings stared at me as if I was the eighth wonder of the world.
“No, he hasn’t, not that it’s anyone’s business,” I said meaningfully.
“Perhaps he is unsure of how to proceed,” Isleif commented around a mouthful of celery. “It is the Dark One who needs our advice.”
I wanted to beat my head on the wall, but knew that would only leave me with a headache. “Okay, new rules: no more discussion of bedding, bed sport, or anything related to that.”
“You are a virgin,” Finnvid said in a soothing voice, taking me by the shoulders and leading me over to the bed, where he sat down next to me. “You do not know what you are saying.”
“Aye, virgins are often confused,” Eirik agreed.
“I’m not a virgin!” The second the words left my lips I swore silently to myself. All three Vikings pursed their respective lips. “Not that it’s anyone’s business. Just forget I blurted that out, all right?”
“You want us to forget you’re a virgin?” Eirik asked.
“Yes,” I answered. “Can we please move off the subject of sex, or lack thereof?”
“We wish to help you, virgin,” Finnvid argued.
I glared at him. “That is totally inappropriate. You are not to call me virgin!”
“My apologies. Virgin goddess. You will listen to our most excellent advice. We are older and wiser, and have pleasured many women. We know what is what, and if your Dark One is confused, we will guide him in his time of need.”
“No one listens to me,” I said, breaking down and gently banging my head on the wall. “I say no talk about sex, and still they go on. Why, why, why?”
“Bed sport is good,” Eirik said complacently. “We enjoy it.”
“A lot,” Finnvid added.
“It is not quite as good as spending a day fighting outside of Valhalla, knowing there is endless ale waiting for us upon our return, but it is almost as good as that,” Isleif said.
“Aye, the fighting is best of all,” Eirik said, nodding. “Although I would put the bed sport before the ale. Ale is satisfying, but good bed sport is vital.”
“Bed sport with an ale wench is the best of all,” Finnvid said with a wolfish grin.
“Oh, aye, that’s so,” Eirik agreed.
“Can we please change the subject?” I begged. “Like to what I’m going to do with you all?”
“Assuming bed sport is out—” Eirik said.
The scowl I shot him should have turned him into Viking dust.
“—then we will escort you to the Vikingahärta, and make our plans for the capture and banishment of Loki.”
“No, see, that’s not going to work because I’m not going to be able to leave for two weeks.”
“Why not now?” Finnvid asked. “Freya will not be happy if you wait when you did not have to.”
“No,” I said firmly. If there was one thing I’d learned from my past experience with the Vikings, it’s that they’d run all over your good intentions if you let them. “I said I would try to help you, and I will, but on my terms. Loki’s goons know now that Geoff isn’t me, so I don’t have to worry that they’ll grab her again, so really, there’s no pressing reason why I should leave before my vet hospital Web site project is done. I wouldn’t feel at all right leaving it, even if Joann at work is aching to have me gone so she can take over the project and put all sorts of Flash elements into it. We’ll just have to find a place for you guys to stay until I’m ready to go.”
“That would leave us time for much bartering with the weasel gold,” Isleif told the others. “We could get new clothing. Freya said we must blend in with the mortals if we are to walk amongst them.”
“Shopping is an excellent idea,” I said, pulling out a phone book. “Let me just find you guys a hotel you can stay at, and then I’ll show you where the mall is, okay?”
It took the rest of the day, and the last of my patience, but at last I herded my small band of Vikings out to a hotel that was six blocks away. The receptionist didn’t look like she wanted to let them stay there, but when I told her in a whisper that they were rehearsing for a movie, she got all excited and gave them a suite. I prayed Freya’s credit card held up to that and the shopping spree the Vikings were about to embark on when I left them.
A feeling of unease grew in my belly until I returned back to my apartment. Geoff was chatting with her girlfriend, so I puttered around online, searching the apartment listings in the town in which my father lived, hoping something reasonably priced would magically open up. By the time Geoff was done talking, the worried feeling had grown to consume my thoughts.
“Geoff, I hate to ask you, but would you mind if I used your phone to call my mother? I’ll pay you for it since it’s an international call.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’ve got free everything on my phone,” she said, tossing me her cell phone. “Dad gets it through his business.”
“That’s nice of him. I won’t let my mother go on and on, though. I’
d hate to use up all your minutes. I just want to tell her I’ll be going to see her in a couple of weeks.” I wouldn’t say anything about the Vikings, though. Mom still had not-very-nice things to say about the last time I ran into them. I sat back on my now rumpled bed and punched in my mother’s phone number. “I just hope you don’t mind hearing my mom scream when she hears I am going to work for my father . . . Hi, Mom? Oh. It’s her voice mail.” I waited until her little speech was over and left a message telling her I’d call back later.
The next two days passed with relative normalcy. Eirik left a note on my door saying he had a cell phone, and that if I needed him, to call. He and the other Vikings had decided to take advantage of my stubbornness and had gone out to the coast to do whatever Vikings did in the ocean. Sailed around, probably. So long as they weren’t pillaging anything, I figured it couldn’t hurt.
But when I couldn’t reach my mother for a third day in a row, the worry that had continued to gnaw at my gut turned into a raging torrent of concern.
“I think something’s wrong,” I told my dad over the phone that night. “She’s never gone incommunicado like this. You’re sure she didn’t e-mail you?”
“I haven’t spoken to your mother in over a year, not since she sold her house and sent some old boxes of mementos to me,” he answered. “I think you’re worrying about nothing, Fran. Your mother is perfectly capable of taking care of herself. I speak from experience, if you recall.”
I smiled at the dry note in his voice. When my parents were in the act of splitting up, Mom had been very inventive in her spells. Most of it, he tolerated, like being forced to walk backward, an unnatural growth of hair out of his ears, and even the appearance of a black rain cloud that followed him for two entire weeks. But when she smote him with a spell that left him incapable of pronouncing the letter s, he moved out for good.
“I know, but this is different.”
“Why not call that friend of yours who’s with the Faire?” he asked, his voice distracted.
In the Company of Vampires do-9 Page 3
