David turned toward me, still in shadow. “Did you say something?”
“No. Just yelling at myself.”
“Ah. About what?”
“Ben.”
He gave a ghostly laugh. “I won’t say I’m glad you’re yelling at yourself, but in fact, I am. It means you care about him.”
“Yes, I do.” My gaze shifted from David’s shadow to the group in between the fires. I could see three women, including Naomi, as well as Ben, and another man, who looked to be arguing with Naomi. Every once in a while he gestured toward Ben. “Do you know who they are?” I leaned into David so I could whisper my question in his ear.
He did likewise. “We know their names. The two women are from Austria and Switzerland. One is related to Naomi, although we aren’t sure how; the man is Micah, a biologist from England. The last one we’re expecting is Isaak, a Dane. He’s the leader of the set. We believe he’s been holding Luis somewhere around here, but we haven’t been able to locate him.”
“Are you planning on rescuing your guy from them?”
“Of course. But after we see as much of the tyro as we can—even after almost a decade of trying to find out the truth, we have no idea why they are killing random members of the therion community.”
I squatted down on my heels, making myself comfortable for what I feared would be a long wait. And I was right. I spent most of the time watching Ben, not because I distrusted him, but for the simple fact that my eyes were drawn to him. He sat on a cooler, somewhat separated from the others, most of whom lolled around on the blankets talking, laughing, and guzzling beer. Naomi, I was annoyed to see, had evidently forgiven Ben for the shower episode, and spent most of her time hovering around him, touching his shoulders or his arm or head. Twice she leaned down to kiss him, which just made me grind my teeth.
A spike of jealousy ran hot through me when she tugged him onto his feet, then plastered herself against him, both hands on his hair as she slapped her lips on his. Ben’s arms went around her in a loose embrace, which sent me to my feet, my hands fisted, and fire in my eye.
“Steady,” David said, one prohibitive hand on my arm. “I know it’s difficult, Fran, but she’s just kissing him, that’s all.”
“That’s more than enough,” I growled, somewhat surprised to find that I was holding the Vikingahärta. I narrowed my eyes on Naomi as she giggled up at Ben, wiggling herself against him. The Vikingahärta had a good deal of power . . . perhaps I could use that to deal with Naomi. Change her into something fitting, like a slug. Or a cesspool. Or a patch of mildew.
Instantly, I was ashamed of myself. One of the precepts my mother held strongly to, and one that I had absorbed from her teaching, was the threefold law that said whatever I did to others would be returned trebled to me. Although the desire to use the Vikingahärta to bring disaster to Naomi burned in me almost as hot as the anger at seeing her touch him and kiss him and all but jump his bones in front of everyone, despite that, I clung to the belief that to purposely do harm to others was wrong.
Satisfying as all get-out, but wrong.
It was almost an hour before we heard the distant sounds of a car. By that time, Naomi’s group had donned long flowing robes, under which the women squirmed to remove their clothing. The men did likewise, but with much less gyrating.
“Why are they being so modest?” I asked David, standing for a few minutes to get the circulation going again in my legs. “I thought an orgy meant everyone stripped off all their clothes, not wore neck-to-ankle robes.”
“I have a feeling those robes won’t be in much evidence once the tyro commences,” he answered drily.
I made a sour face, looking at the berobed Ben. I couldn’t tell if he had taken off all of his clothes under the robe or left his pants on, and I was irked with myself that it mattered so much. I might have finally decided that I was in love with him, but that didn’t mean I had to be all gaga over him, did it?
Naomi cooed something at him and brushed her hand against his groin.
The Vikingahärta grew hot in my hand as I imagined what she would look like as an octopus with a form of leprous sucker rot, but my lovely fantasy of her tentacles dropping off was interrupted by the arrival of two men, one of whom bore a halogen flashlight.
Naomi’s group greeted them with happy cries, and it wasn’t long before the two men were also clad in long robes.
“Is that your guy?” I asked David. We had shifted position slightly, moving a quarter way down the ring of trees so that we were downwind.
A thin shaft of light pierced the tree next to us, making it possible for me to see David’s face. We both knelt behind a stump, in order to lessen the chances anyone would see a human shape lurking in the shadows. He lifted his chin as if smelling the air. “Yes, that’s Luis.”