“You are mistaken,” was all she said.

I looked back at Davide. He squinted back at me, and farted on my leg. “For the love of—”

“Silence.”

At Tallulah’s softly spoken command, I stopped glaring at Davide, shooting a quick glance at Ben out of the corner of my eye. He had adopted a mildly interested expression as Tallulah invoked a trance, but as I watched, one corner of his mouth tipped up.

You are entirely too sexy for your own good. How am I going to spend the rest of my life with you if all you have to do is quirk one side of your mouth to have me imagining the most lewd things?

You will enjoy yourself greatly, both in chastising me for my appearance, about which I can do little, and in being pleasured as only a Beloved can be pleasured. Yes, including more tongue swirls in that particular spot, although I object to you including in your fantasies that object, and I would like to know, since you’ve had no other men, how you learned about devices intended to prolong erections?

The Internet, baby, the Internet.

“Sir Edward is with us,” Tallulah said, interrupting my mental review of all the toys I thought might be fun to use on Ben. She sounded brisk and businesslike as usual, not at all adopting the dreamy tone my mother did whenever she communed with the goddess. “I have told him of your request, Fran, and he has agreed to help you, although he warns that he is limited in what he can see.”

I was expecting the session with Tallulah to take a long time, what with all the looking around Sir Edward had to do from the Akashic Plain, referred to by people in the Otherworld as Akasha, and by normal people as limbo. But to my surprise, it took Tallulah and Sir Edward only three minutes to tell us what we wanted to know.

“There is a man, swarthy and bull-chested,” Tallulah said, gazing intently into her scrying bowl. “I see him clearly. Sir Edward says he has much dark power, although he disguises it well. He was a servant, but has been freed. It is he who holds your mother, bound by love.”

“A swarthy man?” I glanced at Ben.

“De Marco,” he said.

“That’s what I was thinking. But why? Because he knew Mom in the past?”

“Perhaps the issues of their relationship were not resolved in the past.”

“Possibly. But that doesn’t sound like her.”

Ben admitted it didn’t.

“And is she really in love with de Marco, or did he magic her somehow?”

Ben asked Tallulah, “Is he nearby? Is Miranda with him?”

“Yes. And yes,” she said, her gaze still locked on the smooth surface of the water in the bowl. She was silent for a moment, then added, shaking her head, “He has too much power for Sir Edward to see more details. He says that this man is gathering forces to him, dark forces.”

The therions? His experiments, do you think?

It’s possible, but therions are not beings of dark power.

Tallulah suddenly took a big gasp of air, then sat back, her eyes once again on us. “That is all we could see. The man sensed Sir Edward’s interest, and would have attacked him had Sir Edward not retreated back to the Akasha.”

“De Marco can attack ghosts?” I asked, incredulous at the idea. I knew ghosts in corporeal form, such as the Vikings and those that had been grounded, could be interacted with physically, but Sir Edward had never, in the time I had known Tallulah, had a solid form.

“Yes. He is an Ilargi, a reaper of souls.” Her eyes held sympathy as she reached across the table and tapped Ben on his wrist. “You must guard well, Benedikt. He desires to add you to his forces.”

“Well, he can just desire all he wants, Ben is mine,” I snorted, immediately regretting the show of possession.

Why? I enjoyed it, Ben said with a smile.

Yes, and you’re going to be absolutely unbearable after a few years of that, and I have to spend . . . what, a thousand years with you?

Possibly. Possibly more.

All of which means I need to start deflating your ego now, before it’s too late.

Ben laughed in my head, and took my hand. We thanked Tallulah and Sir Edward for their time, after which I took Davide back to Tallulah’s trailer, making sure to pat the cat on his head since I knew he disliked it. Kindlier instincts prompted me to pull out a little bowl of chopped chicken that Tallulah said she was saving for him. He looked like he wanted to bite me as I gave it to him, but decided instead to adopt a righteously indignant expression meant to put me in my place.

“I don’t see the Vikings,” I said some twenty minutes later, as I arrived at where Ben sat on the corner of a portable picnic table in the common area. I waved the sausage roll I’d bought just before the food stall closed down, adding, “Normally I wouldn’t worry, but with the Faire closing down early for the big finale of the opera shindig in town, I suspect they’ve gone in to pick up women, and with them, that could be trouble. Did you get hold of David?”

“Yes.” Ben put his phone away in an inner pocket of his leather jacket and slipped on the latter. “He says he’ll meet us at de Marco’s house as soon as he can. Do you have your valknut?”

I touched my T-shirt. “I do, but the Vikingahärta is Loki’s valknut. Why do you think it will help us with de Marco?”

“It had its origins with Loki, but it’s yours now, and it’s you who is powering it. It protected you against Naomi’s attack earlier, so it’s my belief that it will do the same should de Marco try to harm you.”

“Aren’t we going to add Imogen to our posse? And shouldn’t we have the Vikings? I can call Eirik and find out where they are. I’m sure they’d be happy to help us make de Marco hand over my mother. They love a good fight.”

“I would like to avoid bringing a full-fledged attack force, since we simply intend to locate your mother. And I’d prefer Imogen to remain here. She’s vulnerable right now.”

“Vulnerable how?” I almost had to run to keep up with Ben as he hurried toward the parking lot, where he’d left his bike. There were a few stragglers left at the Faire, but most had left in the last hour, and the Faire employees were happily shutting up shop in order to watch the festivities. “Is Imogen okay? Is something wrong with her? And why are you running? I’m going to get a stitch in my side if you keep up this pace.”

“Nothing is wrong with Imogen, no. I’m hurrying because I just saw the time. It’s going to be a nightmare trying to get through the town to de Marco’s house.”

“Why? Oh, the parade.” The grand finale of the weeklong opera competition was a parade filled with floats, artists, and other performers.

“The sooner we get through the town, the better.”

I waited until he got on the bike, then slid on behind him, happily burying my face in the nape of his neck and wrapping my arms around him.

Not going to fondle my belly tonight? he asked as we bumped over the lumpy pasture ground and up onto the smooth asphalt of the road.

My hand moved downward in a bold gesture that surprised even me. How about I fondle you somewhere else, instead?

We almost crashed. By the time Ben righted us, brushed the gravel off his boots, and delivered to me a lecture about the follies of groping the driver of a motorcycle going fifty miles an hour on an unlit road, I was alternating between remorse and amusement.

You can’t tell me that you never had a woman grope you while you were riding a horse, I said.

What? He sounded confused.

If you remember, you told me it’s possible to have sex on horseback. I assume that meant you had practical experience in the matter.

A little blush of embarrassment touched his mind. Er . . . yes. And yes to your question, although I will point out that falling off a horse isn’t nearly as painful as falling off a moving motorcycle.

I said I was sorry. Are we going to do it?

Have sex on a horse?

Yes.

If you really want to, then someday, yes, I’ll show you how it’s done. Francesca . . .

Hmm?

I know you’re worried, but I will take care of you.

I hadn’t thought he could see into the hidden kernel of worry that poisoned my general sense of well-being. I know you will. It’s just . . . this is my mother we’re talking about, Ben. If de Marco is as powerful as Sir Edward says he is, how on earth are we going to convince him to de-thrall her, or reverse whatever it is that he’s done to her? We don’t even know why he’s done it in the first place.

We will find out. All will be well, Beloved.

I spent the rest of the ride into town silently contemplating Ben’s calm assurance, and my own worries that even he might meet his match in de Marco.

Chapter 22

The town was, as Ben predicted, a gridlocked nightmare, the huge parade of floats and costumed performers that would wind through town and end up at an open-air amphitheater already under way, which meant much of the town was blocked off by both barricades and dense streams of people.

Ben had to resort to driving up on sidewalks a couple of times, scattering people as he slowly made his way around the edges until he was clear of the town proper, and into the neighborhood that looked down on the town.

The parade must be running through here, too, I commented as we zipped along the winding road that led to de Marco’s house. Barricades lined the street, and people were already gathering outside their houses, setting up coolers and portable chairs.

That’s just what we need. Hopefully we’ll have your mother and be able to leave before it gets to us, Ben said, skillfully zipping around obstructions, barriers, and the occasional traffic cop directing neighborhood residents. Is that it?

Yes. I don’t see David’s car.

He wouldn’t park here where de Marco could see. Ben stopped next to the square fountain.

My eyes strayed to the gargoyle-like projections from the side of the house. I shivered at the glint of the runes emphasized by the light pouring out of the windows. It was as if they glowed slightly in the thick night air, giving a sinister feel to an already charged atmosphere.