Confessions of a Vampire's Girlfriend (7 page)

There was, of course, one other condition, the most important condition, the one that clinched the deal for me. I agreed to become Miss Touchy-Feely in an effort to figure out which one of the Faire employees (if any) was robbing Absinthe and Peter.

I frowned at Tesla, trying to decide if he was worth all the agony he was going to cost me. He pulled his nose out of the bucket, snuffled my feet, then lifted his head and blew horse snot and water all over my legs.

“You would have been a dog's dinner without me, Tesla. You just remember that little fact!” I grabbed a handful of long grass and wiped the snot and water off my right leg.

Soren sat resting his arms on his knees. “I saw Imogen this morning.”

I threw away my handful of grass and got another one, glaring at Tesla as I wiped my other leg. “Yeah? So did I. She was getting a tan.”

Soren tried to make a whistle out of another piece of grass, but it fell apart. He threw it at Tesla, who promptly ate it. “She said her brother is staying with her for a few days.”

I knew that. Imogen had mentioned it to me the night before. It seemed they hadn't seen each other in a long time. I wondered how many hundreds of years “a long time” was to a vamp. I threw away my grass and stood up, walking over to pat Tesla's neck. “Yeah, I know.”

Soren slid a sidelong glace at me. “I don't like him. He's too . . .” He said something in German.

“What?”

He waved his hands around. “Slippery. Slick. Fast. I don't think he is nice.”

“Really?” I held on to Tesla's halter and stroked my hand down his lovely curved chest. It was thick with muscles, even at his age. He turned his head and nuzzled my hand. I scratched his ears for a minute, then slid my hand under his mane and ran it down his neck, enjoying the feeling of warm horse beneath my fingertips. “I like him. He's—What the heck?”

I pushed aside a dirty length of mane and looked at the spot where Tesla's shoulder met his neck. Nothing looked different—it was all dirty gray horse hair—but running my fingers lightly along his upper left shoulder, I felt something, a thickening, like a big scar. “He must have hurt himself a long time ago,” I said to myself.

“Who, Benedikt?”

“No, Tesla. Touch him here. What do you feel?”

Soren limped over and ran his hand over the horse's shoulder. “Horse.”

“Try again.”

Soren did, made a face, and wiped his hand on his shorts. “Sweaty horse. About Benedikt—”

I tipped the water over with my foot. Soren jumped back out of the way of the creeping puddle. I scooped the bucket up and handed it to him, clipping the lead onto Tesla's halter. “Come on, I want to give him a bath. You can help before the evening rush starts. The vet is going to see him tomorrow, so he has to look healthy.”

Soren frowned, but followed me as I led Tesla across the grassy parking area. “You're avoiding the subject.”

“Yeah, I know. I'm doing pretty good at it, too, huh?”

He sighed one of those dramatic sighs that guys who are fifteen sigh. “I warned you. When you come crying to me that he did something terrible to you, don't tell me I didn't warn you.”

I smiled and nudged him with my elbow. “Deal.”

I'll say this for Soren—he might be jealous of Ben's very cool motorcycle (and working on Mom to let me go for a ride on it was next on my list), but he was willing to let it go in order to show me how to take care of a horse. Bruno, Peter's flashy Andalusian, looked positively sparkly white compared to Tesla's dingy gray, but an hour later, after having soaped him up and rinsed him off (much to Tesla's delight—I swear that horse positively moaned with happiness when Soren produced a curry comb), he looked less gray and more like a true white. l spent another half hour combing out his mane and tail, so he was looking pretty spiffy by the time Peter stopped to check Tesla's feet and mouth.

“He's old,” Peter said as he peered into Tesla's open mouth. “Probably twenty, twenty-five years. But he looks in fairly good shape.” He let go of the horse's lips and patted him on the neck. Tesla arched it and did a stiff little prance-in-place move. Peter laughed. “Nice old boy. He should cause us no trouble. Your mother says you will work to pay for his feed, true?”

“True.” I nodded, feeling all warm and fuzzy because Tesla was showing off. The big galoot. “I can do concessions, or tickets, or move stuff, or—”

Peter shook his head. “You will learn the palm reading from Imogen. Your mother tells me you will be good at it, and Imogen wishes to read the runes only. You will learn from her. I will pay you in feed for Tesla while you learn; then you will get real wages, yes?”

My stomach wadded up into a little ball at the thought of reading people's palms. That would mean I'd have to touch them! Sneaky, sneaky Mom. She had been trying for the last couple of years to get me to do readings for people. Now she had me right where she wanted me.

Man, you buy one horse and all of a sudden your life goes all complicated! I patted Tesla, thinking that before that morning, everything was crystal-clear to me—more than anything, I wanted to go back home. Of course, there was Ben . . . but there was nothing to stop him from going to Oregon, was there?

Tesla, however, was another subject. I was pretty sure I couldn't take him home with me; that would be way too expensive. So that meant either I had to stay and give in to my mother's evil plan to make me one of Them, or I could stay and just refuse to do anything, and mope and pout until everyone got sick of me and sent me back to live with my dad (which, to be honest, wasn't looking that good, what with the new trophy wife in the picture), or I could give up Tesla and make the best of things.

I looked at Tesla. He looked back at me with his big, liquid brown eyes. There was nothing wrong with him; he was just old. Did he deserve to be chopped up into dog food just because I didn't want to do a little investigating and some stupid palm reading? I sighed again (I really have to stop; it's getting to be a bad habit), and nodded at Peter. “All right. I'll let Imogen teach me to read palms.” On my own terms—I'd wear my gloves.

“Good, good. Soren, come with me; I have much work for you. . . .”

They hurried off to the little trailer that served as an office. The generator behind the main tent hummed, then snapped into life, the big lights running down either side of the fairway buzzing on one after the other. Shadows sprang up, their edges crisp and clear in the bright blue-white light that flooded the ground, turning the green grass silvery black. Tesla whinnied, pawing the ground with one hoof as I ran the brush over him one last time.

“Found a new friend, have you?”

Ben's voice curled alongside me, almost as if it were actually touching my skin. I looked over Tesla's back. “Yep. I bought him earlier today. He's mine.”

“You bought him?” Ben's black eyebrows rose as he approached us. Tesla snorted and tossed his head up and down, trying to pull away from where I had tied him to the bumper of Peter's bus. “You bought a horse. A little souvenir of Hungary?”

“Something like that.” Ben put a hand out and caught Tesla's halter, murmuring soothing things as he stroked the horse's head, calming him down.

“Don't tell me: Dark Ones have a special ability to calm horses?”

He grinned that infectious grin that made me want to smile back. “Nothing so exciting. I just happen to like horses. What's his name?”

“Tesla.”

“Hmm.” Ben stroked Tesla's neck just as I had done. I bent over to brush his legs, and when I stood up, Ben was frowning at the horse's shoulder.

“There's a scar there,” I pointed out to him.

“Yes, I noticed,” Ben said. His fingers traced out the letter P, two Xs, and beneath it, a wavy line.

“What's that?” I asked. Ben looked up at me. “The symbols you were drawing. Were you warding him?”

A slow smile spread across his face. “What do you know about wards?”

I put the brush back into the bucket and stepped back from Tesla. He looked pretty good, if I did say so myself. “Not a lot. Imogen said she'd show me how to draw them sometime, but she's always so busy. Did you ward Tesla?”

“No,” Ben said. “Where did you get him?”

I explained my morning's adventure, leaving out all the stuff about Mom and my promise to help find the thief. He wasn't going to be around long enough for that to matter to him.

“You know nothing about where the girl's grandfather got him?”

“Nope.”

“Not even his name?”

“Tesla's?”

“The grandfather's.”

I shook my head. “Nope. Is it important? Should I have gotten a receipt? My mother says I should have, that someone could claim I stole him, but I have Panna as a witness.”

“I don't think a receipt would tell you anything,” Ben said slowly, still stroking Tesla. He traced something on the horse's cheek. “If you like, I can look into finding out where he originated.”

Tesla turned and bumped me with his head. I peeled off my gloves and scratched behind his ears. “Why?”

Ben raised an eyebrow. He was looking just as nummy as he had the night before, although this time he had on black pants and a bloodred shirt that looked soft and shimmery, like it was silk. He had two little black stone earrings in his left ear, and a diamond in his right. We are talking
major
cool, here. “Do you always ask
why
when someone offers to do you a favor?”

“Sometimes. If I think the favor is going to cost me something.”

He smiled again. “This will cost you.”

I walked around behind Tesla, being sure to stay clear of his back legs just in case he was a kicker. “How much? I spent all my money on him.”

“Think you can convince your mother to give you permission to come on a ride with me?”

I sucked in my breath. “On your bike?” He nodded, his fingers still gently stroking Tesla's neck. “That's an awfully strange payment. How about we just go on the ride and not worry about the okay?”

“No.” He shook his head and held out his hand for me. “You must get permission or there will be no ride.”

I hesitated, chewing my lip as I looked at it. It was just a hand, just five fingers and a palm. I had touched him before, and I had been okay. There was no reason not to trust him now. I took a step closer to him, stretching out my arm, my hand poised over his.

I swear the air between our hands got hot.

“Are you turned off?” I asked.

He didn't say anything, just looked at me with pitch-black eyes. I let two of my fingers droop down to touch him.

It was just a hand.

“You never have anything to fear from me,” he said softly, his thumb rubbing the back of my hand. “If you ever find yourself in trouble, I will help you. Without any questions.”

“And all I have to do is save your soul in return?” I asked, pulling my hand out of his.

He shook his head. “I ask nothing of you. I never will, Fran.”

I pretended my arm itched, and scratched at it just to break the moment. His unblinking gaze made me uncomfortable, leaving me very aware that he was a gorgeous guy in a red silk shirt and I was a big lump of a girl in a dirty pair of jeans and a sweaty T-shirt.

I picked up the bucket of grooming tools and turned toward the horse trailer, saying over my shoulder, “I'll ask my mom about the ride in the morning. She's not too happy with me tonight. At least she won't be until I start—” I stopped. It was just so easy to talk to Ben, I forgot that I didn't need to blab every thought I had to him.

“Until you start what?”

He followed me around to the front of the horse trailer, where Soren told me they kept Bruno's grain. I measured out the amount he'd mentioned, dumping it into a bucket. “Here, you carry this.”

Ben took the bucket, watching as I frowned at a bale of hay. “How much is a flake? Soren just said a flake. Half, do you think?”

“No, look, you can see the natural divisions in the bale. That's a flake.”

“How do you know so much about horses?”

He did a half smile. “I told you—you're not the only one who likes them.”

“Oh. Have you had one? I mean, like, long ago? You know, when everyone had horses?” He looked so normal (an understatement if there ever was one) that it was hard to remember that he was walking around a couple of centuries ago, before they had cars, before they had electricity, before stuff like penicillin and anesthetic. I wanted to ask him about a gazillion questions, but figured that would have to wait.

“Yeah, I've had horses.”

“I guess you would have to, huh? Did you take care of them yourself?”

His half smile got a bit quirkier. “No. I had grooms.”

“Grooms? Like servants?”

He nodded.

I just stood there with my mouth hanging open like a big dumb girl. “Are you royalty or something?”

He laughed and chucked me under the chin, just like you do to a little kid. “No, I'm not royalty, Fran. You don't have to look so appalled.”

I turned away, yelling at myself for being such a boob as l pulled loose a chunk about six inches wide and carried it over to the opposite side of the trailer, where Bruno was munching down on his dinner. Ben set the bucket down, then went and fetched a second with water for the horses while I brought Tesla over and tied him on a long lead to the trailer. “Din-dins! Bon appetit.”

“Fran? What is it you have to start?”

I turned and faced Ben. Just what I needed in my life, a vamp with a one-track mind. “It's nothing, okay? Just a little project I have to do for my mother. Something I had to agree to in order to keep Tesla. So you can stop prying and leave me alone.”