Dogs and Goddesses

by Jennifer Crusie

  “It might. Do you mind if I borrow it? I’d like to make a few calculations.”

  “I’m not letting it out of my sight.”

  His half smile was devastating. Way too hot in the room. “Did you think I was going to run off with it?”

  “It belonged to Granny B. I don’t want to risk losing anything of hers now that I’m learning about her.”

  “Then you can come with me.”

  “Come where?” She didn’t bother to keep the suspicious tone out of her voice.

  “Apparently this is a diagram of the center of the ancient history building. It appears to be in the auditorium.”

  “That’s what it looked like to me, too,” Abby said, resigned.

  “And you were there … why?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “Try me.”

  “I already did.” The moment the words were spoken she clapped her hands over her mouth.

  “I wasn’t talking about that—”

  She interrupted him. “Neither was I. I meant I tried to tell you—”

  “Not that I’m unwilling to talk about it.”

  “Well, I am,” she said.

  “Are you sure you don’t have measles? You’re looking flushed.”

  “I don’t have measles,” she said in a tight voice. “And yes, the auditorium in the history building is a temple, and we’ve been going to dog-training classes there, which actually aren’t dog-training classes but goddess-training classes. But you don’t believe in goddesses from ancient Mesopotamia.” She was running on and on and she couldn’t help it.

  “You’d be surprised what I believe in,” he said in a steady voice. “Let’s go.”

  “You think I’m going with you?”

  “I’m thinking you don’t have any choice. Gen and Bun can finish the baking, and you may have fewer customers because of the measles.”

  “It would take more than a few spots to keep the hordes away from my cookies,” Abby said in a lofty tone.

  “Understandable,” he said gravely, and there was no hidden meaning as far as she could tell. “You want to drive or should we walk?”

  She stared at him. There was really no way out of this, was there? She wasn’t going to let him go off with Granny B’s notebook, and they needed to find out anything they could about Kammani’s haunt. And even if she was secretly pining for him, he seemed to have taken his dismissal in stride.

  The thought of being in a car with him was just a little too distracting. “It’s a nice day,” she said. “We’ll walk.”

  Which kept her in his company even longer, but for some reason, with the bright June sun beating down and the soft breeze blowing and the smell of summer in the air, she couldn’t quite object. He said nothing as he followed her into the building and she stopped before the doors to the auditorium.

  “I’m pretty sure Kammani’s not here,” she said, suddenly nervous. “There was an article in the paper about her filming the Goddess Way for cable, so I’m assuming she’s doing that, but there’s no telling when she’ll be back. We should hurry.”

  “And exactly who is Kammani?”

  She stared at him, surprised. Kammani had become such an overarching shadow in their lives that she assumed everyone knew who she was. “She’s the goddess,” she said flatly. “The one our ancestors, including yours, worshiped. She’s the one who’s brought us together to make us goddesses again. And I think she’s batshit insane.”

  “Good to know,” he said evenly. “Lead the way.”

  The auditorium was pitch-dark, and Abby froze. Christopher bumped into her, and she jumped away so she wouldn’t be tempted to lean back against him, and an electric flashlight speared the darkness.

  “Oh.” Her voice was shaky. “You brought a flashlight. I didn’t think of that.”

  “I always carry it.”

  “You have a habit of walking into dark places?”

  “I like to be prepared.” He flashed the light over the walls, and she could see his face in the reflected glow of the powerful little beam. He had that math look in his eyes, as if he were mentally calculating equations.

  “I think there are some electric lights somewhere,” she said nervously.

  “We don’t need them. Just light the torches.”

  “Electricity would work better.”

  “Torches will give us a more accurate estimate of the area. Are you going to argue with a mathematician?”

  “I wouldn’t think of it. Does the mathematician come with matches?”

  “Always prepared,” he said, tossing the small box to her.

  He was damned lucky she caught them, she thought, cranky, as she crossed the darkened room to light the torches. Slowly the light filled the room, and by the time she finished with the last one and turned, he was off in some kind of numerical trance, stalking around the room, muttering beneath his breath, his forehead knotted in concentration.

  “Don’t you want to make notes?” she said.

  The look he gave her was one of withering disdain. “I don’t need notes. I have the kind of brain that holds on to these things. Your grandmother’s notes are good enough.” He still had Granny B’s marbled notebook in his hand, his eyes sweeping down to check it, then darting up to the high ceiling. “There are power points in this room. The building wasn’t just dumped here—the placement is critical, at the juncture of the ley lines, with power surges going from east to west and north to south.”

  “Great,” Abby said, half-mesmerized by the sound of his voice, half-irritated that he seemed to have forgotten all about her. “And what do these power points do?”

  “Beats me,” he said, switching off the flashlight and taking out something white. “But we’re going to mark them so we can find them again. They’re here for a reason; I just don’t know what that reason is yet.”

  “How are we going to see the marks?”

  “Chalk.” He took a few steps and drew a mark on the floor.

  “You come equipped with that, too.”

  “I’m a teacher. Of course I have chalk. Though in fact, you’d be surprised what I’m capable of, spur-of-the-moment.”

  She could feel the color rise in her face again and she turned away from him, surveying the torches. If he noticed, he’d probably ask her if she had measles again, and insist on doing a proper inspection, and if he put his hands on her she’d have a hard time remembering that she was completely over him, and…

  “I’m done,” he said. “While you’ve been standing there daydreaming I’ve finished marking the power spots, and I’ve got the dimensions in my head. Sacred geometry is really quite fascinating, you know.”

  “I’m sure it is,” she said hastily. “But I think we need to get out of here before Kammani comes back. You can explain it to me some other time.”

  “Can I? You run away whenever I walk in a room.”

  “Your imagination,” she said stiffly.

  He didn’t argue. “I’ll douse the torches on the right side, you do the ones on the left, and we’ll head back to the coffeehouse.”

  “You’re coming back?”

  “Unless you’ve changed your mind and decided to let me take the notebook home.”

  “I’ll get the torches.”

  One by one the torches went out, and the cavernous room grew darker, and darker still. The torches were placed at various intervals, various levels, and the final one was too high for Abby to reach. She considered jumping up like Bailey in a futile attempt to reach it, but she couldn’t bring herself to be that ridiculous in front of Christopher.

  And then he was there, directly behind her, his body almost touching hers. He was taller, he could reach, and she would have moved out of the way except that he put his hands on her arms, gently.

  “I’ll get it,” he said, his voice low in the velvety darkness.

  And then there was no light at all except for the faint pool coming from the faculty room, and he turned her in his arms and ki
ssed her.

  She should have shoved him away, but there in the darkness, no one could see, and it was the sweetest kiss in the world, his lips soft, gentle against her, faintly nudging, and all she could do was sink against him, flow into him, and kiss him back, wanting to put her arms around his neck, wanting more.

  But she wasn’t going to make that mistake again. She stepped back, moving away from him. “We need to leave before Kammani gets back.” There was only the faintest waver in her voice.

  “Yes.” His voice was huskier, and in the darkness she found she could smile. So maybe he did have a reason for haunting the coffeehouse that had nothing to do with his cousin and everything to do with her.

  It was later than she’d realized when they left the building. A wind had begun to pick up, messing up Christopher’s hair even more. She wanted to reach up, push it away from his troubled forehead, but she kept her hands by her sides.

  They stood there for a moment, saying nothing, and she knew that if she didn’t get away from him she’d either jump on him or burst into tears, and neither was an option.

  “You can take Granny B’s notebook home with you,” she said abruptly. “We’ve got to get busy opening the coffeehouse, and I won’t have any time to look at it. Just be careful not to lose it.”

  “Do I strike you as the kind of man who loses important things?”

  You lost me. The thought popped into her head and there was nothing she could do to get rid of it.

  “I’ve decided to trust you,” she said stiffly.

  His smile was slow, deliberate, and heartbreakingly beautiful. “Well, that’s a start,” he said.

  And without another word he turned and walked away.

  “So,” Daisy said as she cut tomatoes for the salad, “you don’t think it’s anything to worry about? The bees, the measles outbreak … you don’t think that’s weird?”

  “Ah-ah-ah, stay.” Noah held one hand out to Bailey as he reached for a treat from the bag next to him on the couch. Meanwhile, Squash indulged in a constant state of stay in the corner on her bed. “Stay.” Bailey stayed, if you didn’t count the almost involuntary swish-swish of his back end on the floor, and Noah gave him a treat, then turned to look at Daisy. “Sorry. Did you say something?”

  “What? Who? Me? No.” Daisy put down the knife and reached for her wine. It was Monday night, almost a week since they’d all sworn to get information on Kammani, and she’d come up with bupkes. Her search of Peg’s apartment had yielded a big, fat zero, and Noah … well, he just didn’t know anything.

  She hoped.

  There was a small—very small—part of her that wondered if maybe he was under some kind of spell, and that as soon as she shared their intent to get rid of Kammani, the whammy would wear off, he’d realize he had never really been that into Daisy, and he’d run off to tell Kammani everything. Which was ridiculous, she knew.

  Mostly.

  She downed a larger gulp of her wine and picked up the knife again, just as two quick knocks sounded on the door and her mother entered, saying, “Daisy, I’m telling you, you absolutely must move into a building with an elevator.”

  Bailey saw Peg, barked, “Peggy!” and dashed up over Noah and the couch to launch himself across the room and come skidding at her feet. Squash, for her part, lifted her head and barked, “Hello.”

  Peg giggled and knelt down, ladylike in her powder blue dress and—of course—matching pillbox hat, and made smoochy noises at Bailey as he danced around her, his tail wagging furiously. Noah got up off the couch and walked over to stand next to Daisy by the kitchen island and mouthed the word, Mom? to which Daisy just lifted her glass and drank again.

  Peg straightened up, her face flush with glee, and turned her attention to the humans in the room.

  “Daisy!” she said, throwing her arms open and pulling Daisy into a hug. They tipped side to side three times in one of her mother’s trademark metronome hugs, and then Peg tucked her arm through Daisy’s and looked up at Noah.

  “And you must be the reason my daughter hasn’t called me in two weeks,” Peg said, leaning her head against Daisy’s.

  “I called you,” Daisy said, wriggling out of her mother’s grasp. “Twelve times. You didn’t answer your cell phone.”

  “I didn’t?” Peg laughed, then held her hand out to Noah. “I’m Peg, Daisy’s mother. Don’t even try the you-must-be-sisters line; it’ll only embarrass us both.”

  “I’m Noah.” He shot an amused look at Daisy, then said to Peg, “Great hat.”

  Peg patted the powder blue pillbox, thrilled beyond measure. “Isn’t it? I just got it. There was this wonderful little store in Manhattan—”

  “That’s great,” Daisy interrupted. “When did you get back?”

  “Why, yes, I would love a glass of wine while we catch up, thank you.” She put her hand on Daisy’s cheek, giving it a gentle, corrective pat. “I’ve missed you, too, sweetheart.”

  Peg walked over to the couch, making smooching noises at Bailey, who followed her happily. Noah looked at Daisy, and Daisy waved him on to go sit. She poured another glass of wine, and in her imagination heard the ding of the boxing ring. Round One, to Peg. Round Two, starting now…

  Daisy put her mother’s wine on the coffee table and settled in the window seat. Noah sat in the chair opposite the couch, legs outstretched in a relaxed pose, and Daisy envied him his ease.

  “So,” Daisy said, turning to her mother, “let’s revisit the rule about knocking before you walk in—”

  “I was excited to see you. My plane just got in an hour ago, and I rushed right over.” Peg leaned down and smooched at Bailey. “Didn’t I, darling?”

  Bailey barked, “I don’t know!” and danced around Peg’s powder blue leather pumps. Peg straightened up and looked at Daisy.

  “You look different,” Peg said. “Anything … new … going on?”

  You know damn well what’s going on, Daisy thought, but smiled even wider. “I take it your treatments went well. I notice you haven’t sneezed once since you got here.”

  “Isn’t it a miracle? But you must tell me what’s going on with you.” She smiled with practiced casualness. “How was that dog class? Did you ever go?”

  “Oh my god.” Daisy threw her arms up in the air. “You are shameless, you know that?”

  “Well,” Noah said, pushing up from his seat. “I’m going to let you girls catch up. Peg, it was nice to meet you.”

  “The pleasure was all mine,” Peg said, eyeing him with girlish glee.

  Vomit, Daisy thought. Noah left, and Bailey hopped up on the couch next to Peg, his tail wagging. She smooched at him and said, “Get your ball,” and Bailey shot off the couch.

  “Back to the subject,” Daisy said. “How could you not tell me?”

  “Tell you what?” Peg said, taking the ball from Bailey and bouncing it down the hallway toward the bedroom. As Bailey raced after it, Daisy concentrated all her anger at her mother, drawing it up in bits and pieces from a lifetime’s worth of little offenses, but instead of directing it this time, she let it run wild through the room, fluttering up papers and almost displacing her hat.

  “Oh … my … What the … ?” Peg said, putting her hand on her hat as her eyes widened.

  Daisy lifted her hands and clenched her fists, drawing it back in.

  “Is that how it works?” Peg muttered. “Amazing.”

  Bailey ran back into the room, hopped up on the couch, dropped the ball next to Peg, and barked, “Again!” Peg picked up the ball and tossed it, and Bailey went flying over the back of the couch, his little nails skittering across the hardwood, a testimony to his joy. Daisy leaned forward.

  “All right,” she said. “I’ve got ground to cover and Noah’s going to be back soon, so let’s cut to the chase. How do we stop her?”

  Peg picked up her wine and sat back on the couch. “Stop who, darling?”

  “You know who.” Daisy leaned forward. “Kammani. She sent a swarm of bees over th
e town, and hit us with a plague of measles, and…” Daisy took a breath, feeling the stab in her chest as she remembered Vera. “She’s just dangerous.”

  “Is she, really?” Peg said as Bailey came back and dropped the ball at her feet.

  “Yeah, she is, really.” Daisy huffed and sat back. “Jesus, Peg. You run off and leave me to get blindsided with all this, and now you’re acting like it’s no big deal. What the hell?”

  “Peggy!” Bailey barked. “Ball!”

  “Oh, come on,” Peg said, waving her hand in the air dismissively. “How bad can it be? You’re young, beautiful, and now … supernatural. That’s gotta be a high. What’s it like?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Daisy said. “Did Great-grandma Humusi ever tell you anything about maybe … how to get rid of her or something?”

  “Ball!” Bailey barked.

  Peg waved one manicured hand in the air. “Oh, she rattled on sometimes about serving the goddess, the honor of family duty, which you know I’d be no good at. I spent twenty-two years married to your father, God rest his soul, and I am past my service days, honey. To a goddess or a man, it’s the same damn thing.”

  “I’m not in service to her.” Daisy walked over, picked up the ball, and tossed it down the hallway, and Bailey skittered after it.

  “You’re not?” Peg said, seeming startled. “You can refuse?”

  “Apparently, because I have.” Daisy sat back down in the window seat. “Now, focus. Did Humusi ever say anything about how to banish Kammani?”

  Peg sighed. “She said a lot. Blah blah blah, the goddess. Blah blah blah, service. To be honest, honey, I didn’t listen too closely. When she and Mama died in that car crash, it was my chance to raise you normal, and I took it. The Worthams were still off the deep end, but the rest of the Seven had gone pretty quiet about it. I figured we’d never have to deal with it.” She caught Daisy’s look and shrugged. “Whoops.”

  “Yeah, whoops is right,” Daisy said, playing her last card to get her mother to understand the seriousness of the situation. “Someone died.”

  Peg leaned forward. “Oh, please tell me it was a Wortham.”