Ben didn’t wait to examine the hallway; he took the stairs three at a time. I ran after him, stopping at the top of the stairs to bellow, “Mom? Are you here?”
My voice echoing down the hallway was all the response we got.
“Miranda?” Ben yelled, even louder than me.
We both listened intently, but heard nothing.
I looked down the stairs to where Ulfur stood silently watching us. “Is she on this floor?”
He just looked at me.
Ben asked him the same question. Evidently the compulsion was still strong enough to cause Ulfur to shake his head.
“Up another flight.” We hurried up the flight to the third floor, repeating the process of calling for my mother. Again we were met with silence.
“There’s only the attic left,” I told Ben as we stood at the foot of a narrow flight of stairs.
“Up we go.”
The door to the attic was locked, but Ben resolved that situation by simply kicking down the door.
“Mom? Are you here?” I asked as I brushed past Ben, coughing slightly on the dusty air that met his assault.
The attic, too, was empty of life.
“I don’t get it,” I said, slapping my hands on my legs in irritation. “Ulfur pointed this way, didn’t he?”
Ben rubbed his chin, looking thoughtful, his eyes narrowed on nothing. “Use the Vikingahärta.”
“Huh?”
“You said it’s changed twice since you reclaimed it. Perhaps it has been doing that to reflect your needs.”
“Since when does it change itself to suit me?” I asked.
“It represents the Fates. No doubt it’s changing itself to be what you need it to be. Try using it to find your mother.”
I looked down at the three metal intertwined triangles that lay in my hand. “Find my mom,” I told it.
It did nothing, just lay inert on my palm.
“Use it, Francesca. Make it do what you want it to do.”
I focused my thoughts on my mother, then grabbed Ben’s hand as I willed the Vikingahärta to find my mother.
It glowed with an amber light for a moment, then suddenly I was running down three flights of stairs to the ground floor.
Where is she?
There, I said, stopping at the side of the stairs. A faint outline of a door built into the staircase was visible.
Ulfur did nothing as Ben broke it down. Before the last piece of shattered wood hit the ground, I stuck my head through the remains of the door and called out, “Mom? Are you there?”
“Franny?”
Relief swept over me like a warm blanket, tears pricking painfully behind my eyes as, heedless of the sharp bits of wood, I pushed into the recess. It turned out to be a landing of a flight of narrow stone stairs that led downward. “Are you decent? Is de Marco there? Are you hurt? Ben is here, so if you need healing, he’ll take care of you.”
“Am I hurt? Franny, what are you talking about?”
I skidded to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, Ben right behind me. I had half expected some sort of a honeymoon suite, with a heart-shaped bed and mirror on the ceiling, but what met my eyes was a beautifully tiled floor covered with expensive-looking cream and old rose rugs, matching cream furniture, a grand piano, a large-screen plasma TV, and floor-to-ceiling windows that gave a breathtaking view of the town below. My mother sat on the couch with a couple of books, a glass of wine dangling from one hand.
“You’re not brainwashed?” I asked without thinking.
“Brainwashed? Of course I’m not.” Her gaze slid past me to Ben, a frown pulling down her brows. “I would ask you what you are doing in Heidelberg, but I see the answer. Good evening, Benedikt.”
“Miranda.” Ben made one of his polished bows, the kind that never failed to make me want to jump him. “We are glad to see you are not harmed.”
“Mom, what are you doing here? Are you a prisoner?” I looked around the room. Subdued lighting emphasized various paintings and works of art. The whole place reeked of good taste and money.
“You aren’t making the least bit of sense, Fran.” She set down her glass of wine. “I think perhaps you are upset. Why don’t you sit down and tell me what has you in such a fidget? And why is Benedikt here, when you told me you’d cut all ties with him?”
Ben? What’s going on?
I have no idea. But she mentioned Heidelberg.
So?
I wonder . . . He didn’t complete the thought, and I didn’t have the mental agility to follow what my mother was saying and try to pry into his hidden thoughts to see exactly what it was he was wondering.
I sat across from her on an overstuffed love seat, Ben beside me. “I don’t quite know where to start.”
Her gaze flickered to Ben. “I think you should start with what you’re doing here in Germany.”