Wrath of the Goddess

by Lauren Dane

  Being careful of feelings took a lot of goddess damned time and energy. Stabbing them or avoiding them entirely was so much more attractive and yet, not a possibility in most situations.

  “All right. But I want my reservations noted.”

  Rowan snorted, surprised and annoyed. “Oh yeah? And who am I noting them to? Who is in charge of me and what I do all day?”

  “That’s not what I meant,” David told her.

  “That’s what you fucking said. You are my valet, not my boss. Not my dad and you’ve met him so it’s not even a universe you can inhabit. Also, I don’t listen to him either. Clive is my husband and an ally with the Vampires. Again, I don’t work for him. And neither do you. I am not a weak little girl in need of protection from all the men in my life. As. If.”

  “As your valet it’s my duty to protect you and your best interests,” David said. She heard regret in his tone. He knew he’d overstepped but he didn’t shy away from the issue. Which she admired.

  “Yes. And you do a fine job with that. No sarcasm. I mean that sincerely. But the way it works is I do what I want. I agreed to you being my driver to make you and Clive feel better. And because now that you’ve decided to join me in the field, we’d be together most of the time anyway. If and when I decide I need to do something without anyone else involved, understand this, I will do it. I don’t need to get permission. I’m pretty good at my job. I take the input I get from you and Clive and other trusted sources into account with everything I do. As a Hunter. When it comes to those who serve Her and me as the Vessel? I need no input. That is my path. I will walk it with discipline.”

  He sighed heavily. “If I did such a fine job why did you get shot last night when I wasn’t there?”

  Ah. That’s what was driving this. Guilt and confusion. Upset at feeling as if he’d failed.

  He hadn’t at all. Love for this human washed her annoyance away. Rowan sipped her water to gather herself. “You’re part of an investigative team. You were doing your job when I got shot because we needed the intelligence you were gathering. What you were doing is incredibly important and I can’t be in five places at once and I trust you to do things right.”

  “And Carey got killed. I was a world away. I should have known. I should have known,” he repeated.

  “How? It’s me who should have known. Put him on the buddy system. You were in Europe with me. At my side because I told you to be there.” Rowan spun her wedding ring slowly as she shook her head.

  “As for last night, I was with one of the strongest beings I’ve ever encountered. If I can get shot when Genevieve is with me, no one could have stopped that.”

  “If you want me to believe that, you’ve got to stop holding yourself responsible for Carey’s murder,” David said.

  “I used to work alone mostly. On purpose because I don’t deal well with authority.”

  David’s quiet little snort had her feeling better.

  “But then you showed up and I had Carey. And then Thena. Clive. Far more than allies. You’re my family. My team. Carey was on my team and I should have protected him better. So I need to make sure I do all aspects of my job as a Hunter and my being Vessel, the best I possibly can. To learn and accept responsibility and move forward. It’s all I can do.”

  * * *

  Forty-five minutes later she arrived at the ranch that the shrine and about a dozen acolytes occupied.

  As she pulled along the road leading to the main house she noted the security upgrades she’d ordered had been made.

  As far as the public was concerned, this place was a sort of home for women trying to recover from something traumatic. They stayed nonspecific, which let people think whatever they wanted to explain their presence and gave a great cover story for full-time guards and the presence of a high fence surrounding the residential buildings and the shrine.

  Brigid approved of the security and of the way she was stopped at a new gate by a guard.

  “Afternoon, Ms. Summerwaite. Condolences on Carey’s passing. He was a good guy,” the guard said.

  “Thank you. Anything new to report?” she asked him.

  “It’s been quiet. We’ve increased patrols. Put up some new lights and cameras. Nothing out of the ordinary. The ladies call in when they get to wherever they’re going too. Just to let us know they’re okay.”

  “Excellent. I appreciate the job you’re doing.”

  He smiled and stepped back so she could continue on her way.

  * * *

  As always, the Mother Acolyte waited for Rowan on the porch. Her long silver hair was bound in a braid trailing down her left shoulder.

  “Rowan, I’m pleased to see you, child of the triple Goddess,” she said as Rowan knelt to receive the touch on the head that never failed to fill her with a warm, quiet calm.

  “I’m glad you’re well,” Rowan said after standing.

  “Come inside. The cauldron is lit and ready for you. When you finish, we’ll be in the kitchen,” the Mother Acolyte told her.

  Rowan turned in the other direction and headed down the stairs leading to the shrine and the cauldron of flame at its center.

  Despite the flames, the stone room was cool, the only light coming from the cauldron and pale lights set into the walls.

  Rowan headed to the well, where she pulled up a large bucket of water and set it aside until after she’d taken her clothes off and tucked them into a shelf on a nearby stand.

  The tepid water she poured over herself as she began the meditative process that would open the way between her and the Goddess was part of the ritual. Coming to Her clean physically and mentally. Being open and ready.

  The simple white robe she’d pulled on stuck to the wet spots on her skin as she moved to the cauldron and the altar it made up.

  Rowan traced the marks with her fingertips, the smooth stone warm to the touch, a call to invoke the Goddess within.

  Light rushed through her from her toes to her scalp and she fell away, her consciousness freed from her body as she ascended.

  * * *

  “My gifts continue to manifest in you.”

  Brigid’s voice and the aspect She used when She communed with Rowan this way reminded her of Shirley Manson. Complete with Scottish accent and red lipstick.

  “Though you certainly have a way with trouble.”

  It was the clearest one on one she’d ever had with Brigid. Usually it was more of a feeling or she remembered very little but the impressions. But when Brigid was this clear, Rowan liked to believe it was due to the growing strength of their connection.

  “Perhaps. You’re getting stronger by the day, as is our connection. Each of my gifts that you’ve inherited has been one you’ve honed and made stronger.”

  Holy shit! Had she said that out loud or had Brigid plucked it from her head?

  “There’s really no need to pluck something from your head while we’re in this state. We share a consciousness,” Brigid reminded her. “Tonight I will be with you as we send our loved ones off with sacred fire. This too is one of your gifts. A useful one you might do well to explore the possibility and limits of.”

  “So I can use the flame thing other than for funeral pyres?”

  “Naturally. What a mundane gift if you could only use it one way. You have a much better imagination than this.”

  Brigid peered closely at Rowan for long moments and a ghost of a smile flitted over Her lips.

  Even so, it made Rowan a little uneasy. She might look like a Scottish rock star, but Brigid was a goddess. A full-on, no bull, goddess. They could be mercurial on the best of days. Plus that whole sage thing was something they did too. Not a one could ever just say whatever you needed to know bluntly and outright. Instead she had to figure it out like she was in one of those BBC mystery shows.

  Naturally the way Brigid looked at Rowan just then
, she’d obviously blurted all that out into the shared consciousness thing. Or whatever.

  “There are rules, Rowan. You know that. I have to abide by them. I can’t be as blunt as I wish for myriad reasons. As you’d say, most of those reasons are above your paygrade. You know what I’d tell you anyway. Because we share that connection.” She poked Rowan’s belly. “I’ll tell you all the very powerful Vampire blood you ingested has...sped up the acquisition of some of your gifts.”

  “In a good way?”

  “These things are never that simple. But overall yes, it’s a good thing because some of my powers you wouldn’t have been ready to achieve for another decade at least are manifesting in you now. You’re not the same as you were before,” Brigid said.

  “What does that mean? Not the same?”

  Brigid said, “You’re not only a Vessel. Not only a Hunter. The blood has given you something unplanned for. You’re something altogether unique in the universe. As such, my power rises too.” She touched Rowan’s forehead. “I don’t have to tell you which gifts do I? Do you not feel things differently now? An alertness you didn’t possess before. A knowing you can’t explain. Dreams, yes?”

  The fire was expected. Brigid was a threefold goddess and fire was the center and foundation of her power. The fires of inspiration. The fires of the hearth and home. The fires of war.

  Prophecy wasn’t. Carl, her own personal sage and taxidermy aficionado, had made a pointed reference to prophecy while she was in Italy. And he’d lifted a water taxi but that was part of his MO.

  “Time passes and you must go,” Brigid told her. “Accept your gifts with an open and curious heart. Blood is coming. War is happening now. Use your power. Our enemy will continue to strike until we can rid ourselves of him. I am at your side.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  On her way out, one of the acolytes, also Rowan’s source at the local PD, approached with a small package.

  “Vessel?”

  Despite all the chaos Rowan had to deal with, she never wanted to take it out on the acolytes who were always so kind to her. So she shoved her irritation and need to be out the door to the side and smiled.

  “Hello, Mary.”

  She handed the kraft brown box Rowan’s way. “I managed to get you the remains of the two people they found in the fire at Thena and Martin’s house. I thought you should have them. So they can be sent off with the others at the pyre tonight.”

  Overcome with emotion she hadn’t even realized she’d been ignoring, Rowan stepped to Mary and hugged her. “Thank you. This means a great deal to me.”

  Mary’s returning smile was beatific. “Then I’m doubly glad I did it.”

  Rowan stopped by the kitchen where the others had gathered, waiting for her to visit with them. They were an important part of her power, of the gifts that had flowed from Brigid. The more fervently a goddess was believed in and remembered, the greater Her power. And as a result, the greater Rowan’s power.

  She sensed their worry for her and sought to soothe it. It was the other way around. Rowan rightfully worried about their safety but she wanted them to be happy and understand she did all within her ability to keep them that way.

  A strange dance ritual and one Rowan had grown to appreciate rather than fear. These women were people she would be gentle with. Could be soft and kind. It was a gift that, the older Rowan got, she appreciated more and more.

  They were her safe place.

  She invited them to the pyre that sundown, took the apples they gave her in a pretty basket—a reminder of Brigid’s Isle of Apples—and she finally took her leave an hour later.

  While she’d been out, her phone had backed up with several voice messages and texts filling her in on various issues that had been dealt with or had come up since she’d left the safe house earlier that day.

  A check-in from Pru and the Hunters on the job in Los Angeles. More links to Vampires. Clive was already strung tight. At this point it was just a matter of time before he unleashed that dark, vicious predator he truly was. Blood was going to be spilled.

  She knew it in her bones.

  Rowan would have the benefit of Genevieve’s eyes when they went over the scenes tonight. And Clive’s super Vampy goodness because there was no way he’d stay in Vegas while the rest of them went to Los Angeles.

  Vampires were involved up to their canines so he had a reason other than wanting to be there to snoop into her investigation and protect her at the same time.

  David had been busily updating her. Since they’d been able to take photographs of the faces of the dead sorcerers and had their identification, he’d been running searches through facial recognition software to see if they could track their movements and maybe connect them to whoever was pulling the strings.

  Genevieve was ready to be picked up so Rowan stopped at the Tuscan Rose to grab her.

  Today’s ensemble was chic. High waisted pants, a blue and white striped shirt, black boots. Her curly hair had been tucked into a low ponytail at the back of her head.

  She carried the same duffel she had the night before. After she hugged Rowan, she hefted it. “Supplies.”

  “Okay then. Are you hungry? I’m meeting David for an early dinner before we go to pick up Thena and Carey and head to the site of the pyre.”

  “I can always eat. Are you taking me to the bat cave?”

  Rowan laughed. “You’re awfully old to be making bat cave references.”

  “I’m young at heart.”

  “Yes, I’m taking you to the house. David made a run to some deli he loves and he’s putting together a high protein meal he says we need because we’re grieving and then out for our vengeance. Apparently it’s a high protein sort of night.”

  Genevieve said nothing. She’d given her sincere condolences and Rowan had shared a lot with her already. Instead, knowing Rowan shied away from sappy stuff, her friend simply squeezed her hand for a moment.

  “He’s adorable. Don’t tell him I said that because sometimes men get a complex about comments like that. He’s got protective magic he doesn’t even know about.” Genevieve stared out the window a moment more. “He’s very fierce as well as being adorable. His loyalty to you is a type of magic. It’s connected with all the magic that has been worked on and around him. Just little motes of power but they’ve clung to him and that thread connecting the two of you. It’s his unique power.”

  “He’s learning and getting better every day. I feel bad that his education from me has been pretty much one bloody battle after the next. He was so British when he arrived on my doorstep. I’ve ruined him. He argues with me now.” Rowan snorted. “I like it better when people are scared of me so they just do what I tell them to.”

  “Don’t we all?” Genevieve laughed. “He trusts you. But the young are very spunky and assertive these days. Sometimes you simply have to remind them who they’re dealing with.”

  Rowan thought of the back-and-forth she and her valet had earlier that day. That’s what she’d done precisely.

  “You make me feel better for being a little bitchy,” Rowan said.

  “Women need to give themselves permission to be a bitch as often as necessary. Being nice doesn’t move mountains.”

  “Word.”

  “How is your house coming along? The new one your Vampire gave you for your betrothal,” Genevieve asked.

  “Despite some concerns I had about the former owner’s lack of taste, it’s pretty nice. Swank. The security is spectacular. It’s supposed to be ready for us to move into in just a few days because Clive put them on overtime to be finished earlier. I’d be exhausted by it all if I was doing any of the work. I’m not. Clive and his designer have it all planned. How lucky am I?”

  “Very nice. When this is tied up you’ll have a housewarming there and I’ll bless and ward it for you. Since I’ll be here in Las Vegas
for the foreseeable future, I’ll update the wards on a regular basis.”

  “That’s nice of you.” Rowan had already thanked too many people she’d owe something to later. She needed to get back in the game and remember who and what she was.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll bill Hunter Corp. for it as well as the Vampire Nation,” Genevieve said with ease.

  “All that weed’s got to be expensive,” Rowan said with a snicker.

  “It’s a business expense.”

  Back at the safe house after they’d eaten and sundown approached, Rowan left Genevieve with David while she went to change her clothes.

  A priestess. That’s what she needed to be that night. Rowan chose a long robe of brilliant orange. A gift from the last time she served at Imbolc celebrations in Kildare. Those acolytes who’d trained Rowan from childhood to be the Vessel of Brigid, had embroidered and used beadwork to create the illusion of flame as she walked.

  Brigid warmed from Rowan’s belly and she knew the robe had been the right choice.

  Giving over to Her, Rowan’s hands twisted and pinned through muscle memory as she braided her hair. She pulled on ceremonial jewelry and readied herself for what was to come.

  Each task built into the larger ceremony. As if she strapped on ritual armor. Which seemed fitting.

  * * *

  Even more fitting as she stood under a rising moon. The desert around her caught the last light of the day as it shimmered into night.

  The light of in between things.

  On a bier that had been built just that day, Carey, Thena and Martin’s ashes lay. In the end, Rowan and David had felt Slidell also belonged there so his remains lay with the others. Each ready to be sent off to the next step in their journey.

  The ceremony would be of closure. Of death giving way to birth of new things. New possibilities.

  Brigid spoke these words like a prayer. Spoke them in a language far older than her Vessel knew. Spoke in the words of the ancients.