Circus of The Darned

Chapter One

"Good morning, Fran."

"Morning, Tallulah. How's Sir Edward?"

Tallulah smiled a sad smile."Still dead, alas."

I nodded, not surprised at all by her answer. According to what Tallulah, a medium of gypsy

ancestry, had told me a couple of months before. Sir Edward had been dead for a few hundred

years. It didn't stop him from being her boyfriend, but I didn't have the nerve to ask just what sort of a relationship was possible with a ghost.

I wandered down the line of trailers that housed the members of the GothFaire, musing on the

fact that in a short time, I'd come pretty far.

"
Guten morgen
, Francesca."

"Morning, Kurt." It was hard to believe, but just two months ago. Mom had to drag me kicking and screaming to Europe to spend the next six months with her while my father had time to "get to know" his new trophy wife. What was harder to believe was that I would find an odd sense of companionship with members of the GothFaire… a stranger group of people I couldn't imagine.

"Ah, Fran.It is you." A slight woman with spiky pink hair appeared in the trailer's doorway behind the big, blond Kurt (according to Faire gossip, both Kurt and his brother Karl had a thing going with Absinthe).

"Sure is. Morning, Absinthe." I gave her a friendly smile that I didn't really mean, and hurried on my way before she could say anything else.

"Vait a moment!I vish tospeaks with you…"

"Sorry, have to feed Tesla.Maybe later!" I called over my shoulder, silently swearing at the unhappy frown she fired off at me. The last thing I needed was to tick off the woman who ran the Faire, but no way was I going to let her pin me down again. Ever since she'd found out about my special power, she'd been after me to do a mind-reading act… something I intended to avoid like the plague.

"
Hej
,
god morgon
," I answered politely. I figured since we were inSweden , I should at least learn a little of the language. Tibolt stood outside his trailer in a tank top and a pair of sweats and did some stretches before his morning run. I stopped, unable to keep my feet moving."Um.
Hur
mar du?
Alt veil?"

Tibolt smiled, and I swear, the birds started singing louder. From behind me, I heard a loud

gasp, then the sound of feet racing toward us. "I am fine, everything is good, and your Swedish is improving greatly."

"
Tack
," I thanked him, trying to stop the Inner Fran from squeeing like she always did at the sight of Tibolt. "What are you guys planning for tonight's show?"

Beside me, Imogen came to a screeching halt, her hair rumpled, her face without even a smidgen of makeup, a paper cup of latte in her hand.

"Good morning, Fran," she said hurriedly without even looking at me. Since she was my best friend next to Soren and Ben, I didn't make a big deal about it. Besides, I knew she couldn't help it. All the women of the GothFaire seemed to be under the Tibolt spell, Imogen included. "Good morning, Tibolt. Isn't the day lovely?" she purred.

"Yes, it looks like the rain is gone at last. We should have a good turnout tonight." He turned to me, adding, "We are doing the sword swallowing, I believe."

"Oooh," Imogen said on a heavy breath, just like she was sighing with happiness.

"Speaking of that…" Tibolt's head tipped to the side for a moment as he considered me for a few seconds before nodding. "You are going to your mother's circle tonight, aren't you?"

"Yeah, she likes me to be there. Why?"

"Ah. Good." He glanced beyond us, distracted for a moment by the sight of one of the

volunteers who worked the archaeology dig on the other side of the island. "What is going on there?"

Imogen didn't bother taking her eyes off Tibolt. "The dig people found an ancient grave early this morning, according to Peter. Have I told you how very much I admire your ability to sword-swallow?"

"Hmm?"He frowned as he looked across the big meadow and part of the beach that GothFaire and Circus of the Darned rented for the shows. We were near the causeway that connected the

island to the mainland, which made it easy for people to attend the Faire. "I wonder if he is near.

I feel his presence…"

"Whose presence?"I asked, rubbing the slight goose bumps that had suddenly appeared on my arms.

"No one important."He smiled ruefully. "I apologize, ladies. I was thinking out loud. Fran, if you don't mind, I have a favor to ask of you."

"Favor?Sure." I was flattered that he asked. Beside me, Imogen tensed.

"I would be delighted to help you any way at all," she said, looking hopeful.

Tibolt flashed a smile at her that came close to making her fall down in a dead faint. "I

appreciate that, but only Fran can help me with this." He spilled a little of the smile on me, and my knees almost buckled. "It will be safe with you. You
are
not closed to the
Vikingahärta
."

I stiffened my knees and made a confused scrunchy face."The what?"

Tibolt pulled a dark gold chain from beneath his shirt. On it hung an old-looking gold pendant

made of three intertwined triangles."The
Vikingahärta
. It means 'heart of the Viking' and is the name of this valknut."

"A
Vikingahärta
valknut?"I wondered if it was some sort of Swedish tongue twister.

He nodded and slipped the necklace over my head. The pendant hung below my breastbone,

warm from his body heat. I got a strange little thrill that was partly from the pendant, partly from Tibolt being so close to me. "That is it exactly. A valknut is the knot of the slain, a symbol of eternity and the afterlife. You see the nine points on it?"

I touched the three triangles. The pendant felt nice, kind of tingly, like it hummed with power of its own."Yeah."

"They represent the three Norns, the weavers of fates."

"Fate weavers.OK. Um… why are you giving me this?"

He smiled. Imogen sucked in her breath again. "I need it kept safe for me tonight. You can wear it under your shirt while you read palms. It won't interfere with your reading. In fact, it may even help you."

I touched the pendant again. Imogen made an envious sort of noise, so I held it up for her to

touch, as well.

"It's lovely," she said, stroking one of the points. "Is it old?"

"Very. It was my grandfather's, and his before him on back for as many generations as my

family has existed. And now, I must be on my morning run, or I will not have time to prepare the hallowed ground for the
blot"
He stretched both arms above his head. Imogen froze, clutching my arm, her eyes huge as she watched him.

"You're going to prepare a bloat?" I asked, glancing at Imogen. Her mouth hung open a little. I elbowed her until she closed it.

"Yes. A
blot
is a ritual sacrifice we in the Asatru make as an offering to the gods." Tibolt did two hamstring stretches that had Imogen gurgling, and me clutching the side of the trailer.

"Um," I said, desperate to distract myself from him. I knew the Asatru religion honored ancient Nordic gods. But I'd never heard of a
blot
. "Don't ritual sacrifices involve killing sweet little innocent animals?"

"In the old days, they did," he said, nodding as he did calf stretches. "But now we use mead instead of blood. It is much more pleasant that way. See you later." He took off before we could ask him how you ritually sacrificed a glass of wine with honey.

Imogen and I stood together, our eyes glued to the figure of the blond hottie as he trotted around the line of trailers and headed to the other side of the island, toward the ruins of a Viking

fortress.

"He is the most gorgeous creature I have ever seen," Imogen said in an awestruck voice.

I dragged my eyes from the disappearing figure of Tibolt (which wasn't easy) to look at Imogen, and giggled at the googly-eyed look of utter besottedness on her face, even though I had a

horrible suspicion I wore the very same expression. "Yeah, he's pretty all that and a bag of chips, but as Soren says, he's just a guy, you know?"

"Soren?"Imogen said, making a ladylike snort. Everything Imogen did was ladylike. Even now, having just gotten up and accepted the latte that Peter, Soren's father, had brought her, she looked gorgeous. Long curly blond hair, a fashion sense that made me feel like I was forever wearing a garbagebag, and delicate, pretty features would probably be enough to make me hate her on sight if she had been a normal person, but Imogen was anything but normal.

Which more or less described everyone here at the Faire.

"Yeah, I know, he's only a kid, but sometimes he sees stuff better than other people."

She released my wrist, smiled, and patted me on the shoulder. "Soren is only a year younger than you, Fran. That hardly makes him a little kid."

I lifted my chin and gave her one of my "I'm confident" smiles that I've been practicing when I'm alone in our trailer."Yeah, but there's a big difference between fifteen and sixteen. I've killed a demon, and figured out who an international thief was. Not to mention that whole vampire

business."

"Dark One," she corrected automatically, taking a sip of her latte as she turned back toward her trailer.

"Sorry, Dark One. Anyway, I doubt that I could have done all that last year without having a major panic attack. Fifteen can be so, you know…
fifteen
."

"Mmm."She didn't look impressed. In fact, she changed the subject. "Speaking of Benedikt, he should be here soon."

I had started waking toward the field beyond the horse trailer, where Bruno, the horse that Peter used in his magic act, and Tesla, my bought-on-a-whim elderly horse, grazed. But at Imogen's

words, I spun around. "What? You've heard from him? Where is he? What happened to him?

Why did he leave so quickly, without any explanation, just a note saying there was something

important he had to do, and he didn't know when he'd be back? And why didn't he tell one of us

where he'd gone?"

Imogen shrugged and kept walking. "I haven't heard from him directly, but I can feel that he's near. I'm sure he'll answer all your questions once he returns." She gave me an amused glance over her shoulder. "You are, after all, his Beloved. He can't lie to you."

"Hrmph," I answered to no one in particular, heading back to where the horses grazed, pausing long enough to snatch up the nylon lead. "I'm beginning to believe that whole Beloved thing is more trouble than its worth. If Ben really thought I was the only person on the face of the earth who could save his soul, you'd think he'd be a little more chatty about where he's been for the last three weeks, and what he's been doing, and why he hasn't called or sent a letter or anything."

Tesla wickered softly and shoved his big horsey nose against my stomach as I approached,

looking for a treat. I undid the leather hobble that connected his front legs and kept him from wandering. Not that I seriously thought he'd run off. I had rescued him from a knacker while we were inHungary , and though I didn't know much about his history, I knew he was too old to go

far. But Peter insisted that the horses be hobbled while they were grazing at night. "Yeah, yeah, hold on a moment, will you? Here.Apple. It's the best I could do."

Tesla's gray whiskers tickled my palm as he snuffled the apple that lay across my hand. He

decided to accept the offering, carefully plucking it off my hand, munching it happily while I

snapped the lead on his halter, and led him toward the trailer. As we walked, I slipped my hand under his mane and touched the raised marking on his neck. Ben had said it was a brand and that all Lipizzans, a very special breed of horse, had them. Since Ben had lived for more than three hundred years, and learned a lot about horses during that time, I figured he had to know what he was talking about. "Although that doesn't mean he's not the most irritating guy in the world," I told Tesla as we halted behind the horse trailer. "Going off without a word to anyone like that…"

"Talking toyourself ?" Soren limped around the trailer, two buckets of grain in his hands. I tied Tesla next to Bruno, a glossy white Andalusian, and made yet another mental promise to give