Read Online In the Company of Vampires by Katie MacAlister - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Katie MacAlister
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mention the wrinkled T-shirt and pair of jeans I wore.
“Ben’s . . . here?” I groaned to myself. Somehow in the conversation with Günter, we’d crossed our lines regarding pronouns. “Right here?”
“Yes. You wish to see him?”
No. I absolutely did not want to see him. I had not gone through the hell of the last year for nothing. I had made a decision, and I was going to stand by it.
“Yes, please,” I heard someone say, and realized with horror that it was me.
I knew I should have turned around and left. I had to find Imogen, and then make a plan to locate my mother. But despite the desperate need to know she was okay, my feet refused to leave. After all, my brain pointed out, I would be much less distracted once a meeting with Ben was done.
“He was sleeping when I left him,” the woman said in a voice with a faint French accent. “Why do you want to see him?”
My heart shattered. Just like that, it was whole one moment, then in a billion pieces the next. Poof! Dust. Not that it had any right to shatter, but you try reasoning to a heart. It’s impossible. “You’re not Gavon’s girlfriend, are you?”
“Gavon? No. I took over his business. I am Naomi, the tattoo artist. I am Benedikt’s girlfriend. And you are . . . ?”
“Fran Ghetti.” Pain seared my soul with such intensity I had to clutch the side of the trailer to keep from keeling over at her feet. Stupid, stupid Fran! You broke up with him; you can’t be shocked now because he got over you.
“Ah, the former girlfriend.” Her look scalded me up and down with enough heat to peel off at least three layers of skin.
I gave her a long look that by rights should have left her hair smoking. “If he’s sleeping, I won’t disturb him.”
“Benedikt is mine, now. Did he not tell you? Poor little American. Did you believe that he still wants you? Desires you? He does not even think about you. He thinks only of me.”
Her voice turned suddenly syrupy and sickeningly sweet. It was just what I needed, because her words pulled me out of what threatened to be a massive well of self-pity, and into the land made up of me turning her into a wart-encrusted cockroach. “There’s nothing little about me, chicky. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to Ben.”
She made an annoyed sound, but stood aside. I climbed the steps and edged past her, hardly able to catch my breath, so fast was my heart beating. I couldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe the proof that was before me. Ben had moved on. He had really moved on. While I’d been spending miserable nights telling myself that I’d gotten just what I wanted, Ben, the bastard, had just blithely gone on with his life.
I glanced over my shoulder at Naomi. She smiled a slow “Ben is my lover because he’s so over you” smile. “He’s in my bed. He was so exhausted after our night together, he went right to sleep.”
I gritted my teeth, my fingernails digging into my palms even through the two layers of gloves I’d replaced. I toyed with the idea of turning her into a toad or bug, but spells had been my mother’s forte, not mine. The only power I ever wielded came from the Vikingahärta. With much reluctance, I pushed away the thought that I could get it from Imogen’s trailer, then turn both the she-devil and Ben into what they deserved.
I turned back toward the door. With every step, the pain in my heart morphed into anger, a fury so hot I thought I would spontaneously combust by the time I flung open the door.
“Nrrf?” a voice said from the bed, then yelped as sunlight streamed in around me. “What the hell are you doing, Naomi?”
The man who rolled over onto his back and sat up, his short hair mussed, his eyes confused and sleepy, brought me to a halt.
“I just came to tell you that I was here, and I never want to see you again. Not that I had planned on doing that, because I thought Günter was saying Imogen was in this trailer, not you, but as long as we’re
“Ben’s . . . here?” I groaned to myself. Somehow in the conversation with Günter, we’d crossed our lines regarding pronouns. “Right here?”
“Yes. You wish to see him?”
No. I absolutely did not want to see him. I had not gone through the hell of the last year for nothing. I had made a decision, and I was going to stand by it.
“Yes, please,” I heard someone say, and realized with horror that it was me.
I knew I should have turned around and left. I had to find Imogen, and then make a plan to locate my mother. But despite the desperate need to know she was okay, my feet refused to leave. After all, my brain pointed out, I would be much less distracted once a meeting with Ben was done.
“He was sleeping when I left him,” the woman said in a voice with a faint French accent. “Why do you want to see him?”
My heart shattered. Just like that, it was whole one moment, then in a billion pieces the next. Poof! Dust. Not that it had any right to shatter, but you try reasoning to a heart. It’s impossible. “You’re not Gavon’s girlfriend, are you?”
“Gavon? No. I took over his business. I am Naomi, the tattoo artist. I am Benedikt’s girlfriend. And you are . . . ?”
“Fran Ghetti.” Pain seared my soul with such intensity I had to clutch the side of the trailer to keep from keeling over at her feet. Stupid, stupid Fran! You broke up with him; you can’t be shocked now because he got over you.
“Ah, the former girlfriend.” Her look scalded me up and down with enough heat to peel off at least three layers of skin.
I gave her a long look that by rights should have left her hair smoking. “If he’s sleeping, I won’t disturb him.”
“Benedikt is mine, now. Did he not tell you? Poor little American. Did you believe that he still wants you? Desires you? He does not even think about you. He thinks only of me.”
Her voice turned suddenly syrupy and sickeningly sweet. It was just what I needed, because her words pulled me out of what threatened to be a massive well of self-pity, and into the land made up of me turning her into a wart-encrusted cockroach. “There’s nothing little about me, chicky. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to Ben.”
She made an annoyed sound, but stood aside. I climbed the steps and edged past her, hardly able to catch my breath, so fast was my heart beating. I couldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe the proof that was before me. Ben had moved on. He had really moved on. While I’d been spending miserable nights telling myself that I’d gotten just what I wanted, Ben, the bastard, had just blithely gone on with his life.
I glanced over my shoulder at Naomi. She smiled a slow “Ben is my lover because he’s so over you” smile. “He’s in my bed. He was so exhausted after our night together, he went right to sleep.”
I gritted my teeth, my fingernails digging into my palms even through the two layers of gloves I’d replaced. I toyed with the idea of turning her into a toad or bug, but spells had been my mother’s forte, not mine. The only power I ever wielded came from the Vikingahärta. With much reluctance, I pushed away the thought that I could get it from Imogen’s trailer, then turn both the she-devil and Ben into what they deserved.
I turned back toward the door. With every step, the pain in my heart morphed into anger, a fury so hot I thought I would spontaneously combust by the time I flung open the door.
“Nrrf?” a voice said from the bed, then yelped as sunlight streamed in around me. “What the hell are you doing, Naomi?”
The man who rolled over onto his back and sat up, his short hair mussed, his eyes confused and sleepy, brought me to a halt.
“I just came to tell you that I was here, and I never want to see you again. Not that I had planned on doing that, because I thought Günter was saying Imogen was in this trailer, not you, but as long as we’re
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