The Angel Wore Fangs(35)
“A famine? That is just great. Demons, vampires, tele-damn-transport, and now a famine! What else do you have planned for me?”
“I’m not planning anything. And you’re not dead, and this isn’t some Other World. It’s the same world but a different time period,” he tried to explain.
She wasn’t buying it. “Maybe it’s a bad dream. A nightmare. But I’ve never dreamed in such vivid color before. And the detail! And all the different characters! And the smell! Phew!”
“Enough! You’ve made it clear what you think of my home. And, now that I see it through modern eyes, I have to admit, it is a bit of a mess.”
“More like a debacle.”
He looked so dejected that she almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
She was trying her best not to recall what she’d seen back at the ranch. Those horrid creatures. And Cnut was apparently some kind of creature, too. With fangs!
“What are you?” she asked suddenly.
“A vangel. I told you before.”
“That explains everything.”
He closed his lips over pointy lateral incisors. “Vangels are Viking vampire angels, created by God and commanded by St. Michael the Archangel to rid the world of Lucipires, demon vampires.”
“The creatures we saw? You called them Lucies.”
He nodded.
“And you’re an angel?”
“Sort of. A vampire angel. Suffice to say, we are the good guys, or as good as a Viking can be.”
“You realize this is impossible to believe.”
“It is what it is.”
“Well, at least there are none of them here.”
An odd expression crossed his face.
“What?”
“There were none when I was here last, more than a thousand years ago. Leastways, none that I was aware of. But I cannot imagine that they don’t exist in this time, too. After all, sin is ageless. Lucifer is older than the Creation, isn’t he?”
“You’re asking me?”
“Just be careful.”
“You are an idiot.” She smacked him on the arm, for about the tenth time.
“You might want to consider toning down the anger. Some might construe that as sinful. And Lucies are attracted by the lemon scent of sinners, like bees to a honeypot.” He sniffed the air. “No lemons. Yet. Just coconut.”
He was probably teasing.
She was in no mood for teasing.
Just then, a man pushed through the crowd, which was blocking the far end of the hallway, still watching them. It was the man who’d fainted earlier on first seeing Cnut.
Cnut turned and smiled at the approaching man, who was smiling as well. He was a head shorter than Cnut and two times his age, but nicely dressed in a belted tunic over slim pants. His long, gray-threaded blond hair hung in a thick braid down his back, and he had a neatly trimmed mustache and beard. More than anything, she noticed that he was clean, unlike many she’d seen here so far.
“The gods have smiled on us today. You are not dead!” The man opened his arms and hugged Cnut warmly.
That is debatable. Vangels are dead, aren’t they?
“Thank the One-God,” Cnut said and hugged him back.
The older man arched his brows. “A Christian now?”
Cnut ignored the question. “I take it the situation is dire here?”
“Worse than you can imagine.”
“Andrea, I would have you meet Finngeir, my steward and longtime friend. Finn, this is my . . . um, companion. Andrea Stewart of Philadelphia. She is a far-famed cook and expert in kitchen matters. A magician when it comes to food.”
It was a nice compliment, but a clear embellishment of her credentials. The devious lout was buttering her up for something.
“I am hoping that she will be able to help us solve our most critical issue . . . feeding the masses.”
Yep. Butter, butter, butter.
“I welcome any advice you can give me, m’lady.” The steward looked at her, as if he wasn’t sure of her place here.
She wasn’t sure, either, but she quipped, “As long as you don’t expect me to turn five loaves and two fishes into a feast for thousands.”
Cnut understood what she meant, and cringed, but Finn frowned in confusion.
“Like in the Bible. What Jesus did. A miracle,” she explained.
“Ah, the Christian Holy Book,” Finn said, though he gave Cnut another questioning look. Apparently, they weren’t Christians here.
Turned out, once they entered the hellhole that purported to be a kitchen, it really would take a miracle to turn this place around.
The kitchen itself was a massive room, about half the size of a basketball court. Two hearths, each big enough for a person to stand in, blazed with fires in which cauldrons bubbled and haunches of meat roasted. Ovens were built into the stonework on either side of the hearths.