Pranic, Pregnant, and Petrified (The Montgomery Chronicles Book 3)

by Karen Ranney

  Call me contrary. Call me bitchy. I was hungry and I tend to get snarky when I’m hungry. But because Opie had delayed, now I didn’t want her with me.

  “Never mind,” I said. “Go on with Kenisha.”

  Me, the non-hugger, reached over and hugged Kenisha again.

  “I’m so glad he’s going to be okay.”

  “Only because of you.”

  “I doubt it was all me,” I said. “Maybe some, maybe some prayers, and some of Dr. Fernandez’s care, along with just plain luck.”

  We’d see how much was credited to my blood when Mike recovered and became whatever he was going to become.

  Before Kenisha could argue with me or Opie change her mind and come, I turned and headed for the elevators.

  I have my pride. I wasn’t going to beg anyone to be my friend. But had she forgotten the liver and the cheese treats, the belly rubs, the praise and appreciation? Had she forgotten all the times I’d asked the kitchen to send up doggy treats?

  I was confusing Charlie and Opie. Charlie was loyal. Opie had conflicting loyalties. I needed to remember that and not blame one entity for the other’s behavior.

  I was tired, a little bit weepy, and out of sorts. I needed to eat something and take a nap. Instead, I was headed for yet another ceremony and this one scared me. Even Janet didn’t know if it could be done. Was there a “should” in there? What would happen if we screwed up? What would happen if we didn’t? By uncloaking Dan would we put him in danger? Would he start to glow or something? Would anyone suddenly realize that he was different? What if I couldn’t “feel” him after the uncloaking?

  Nope, I wasn’t getting a good feeling about this, but I didn’t know what else to do.

  If in doubt, do nothing. Some wise person had once told me that. Unfortunately, doing nothing wasn’t an option.

  The elevator door opened and I had a choice: continue on or run like hell.

  I headed for the gym.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I Had Been Pushed To The Edge

  The sparring room turned out to be a room off the gym where they’d installed a boxing ring. As I entered, the last of the foundation was being removed and stored along the wall, along with the ropes. The space, about fifty feet by seventy feet, was unlike the rest of Arthur’s Folly. It was ugly. The walls were gray, as was the floor. Although nothing was made of cinderblock, that was the impression I got. Industrial concrete, a man’s place, not one centimeter of it feminine, girly, or - God forbid - attractive. There wasn’t one window or a skylight, only strips of florescent lights overhead.

  To my surprise, William and his wife, Sylvia, entered the room and nodded to me, but halted several feet away. Gretchen, Dan’s cousin, joined them a minute later. Evidently, I was to be seen and not gotten near. Susan, Terry, and Barb from my grandmother’s coven - or sisters of the faith, as she called them - entered next. Other people I’d seen in the banquet hall but hadn’t met followed.

  I could feel the energy in the sparring room. I didn’t know if it was just from the presence of powerful witches or if they were afraid like I was. I couldn’t help but wonder what they felt from me. Did I give off vibes? I knew I did when I tried. When I my off button was engaged, could they sense anything from me?

  My grandmother had changed clothes. Now she was wearing a dark blue dress with a plain white collar and cuffs. It took me a minute to realize that Susan, Terry, and Barb were all attired alike. Did their uniform, for lack of a better word, help to unite them? I’d never attended one of Nonnie’s coven meetings so I didn’t know.

  A low drone of conversation was building in the room. It, too, had an energy. I tried to block out the voices and I succeeded, for the most part. From time to time, however, I would hear Dan’s name and mine. The former was always spoken in loving tones. The latter not so much. I couldn’t blame these people, a great many of whom might be related to Dan. They didn’t know me. Of course they would suspect me. I might feel the same way. Or maybe I’d cut me some slack, wait until I got more information and then judge me.

  My hunger was turning me bitchy.

  “Are you well, child?”

  My grandmother had approached me and I hadn’t been paying attention.

  “Yes, Nonnie. I’m well.”

  I’m scared to death and I’m starving, but other than that, I’m fine.

  “Did you know that Janet’s son is reputed to be one of the most powerful wizards ever born?”

  Surprised, I looked at my grandmother. I’d rarely heard fear in her voice, but it was there now. A stranger might look at her and see, not a powerful witch, as much as a frightened woman in her eighties.

  "If it is known he exists,” Nonnie continued, “the vampires will stop at nothing to eliminate him. He poses too great a threat.” Her gaze was direct and difficult to avoid. “They will also destroy anyone close to him, Marcie.”

  "They already have reason to want me,” I said. “You don't need to warn me about vampires.”

  I wasn’t really happy with God at the moment. After all, it was God’s fault for allowing all these divergent creatures to exist on earth. What was He thinking? So far, there hadn't been an internecine war with one winner, unless that had been the human race and now everyone else wanted a shot at the brass ring.

  God should have seen this coming. A sentiment I wasn’t going to voice to my grandmother.

  "I worry for you, my child."

  I was worried enough for me already. I put my arms around her, feeling her frail shoulders. When had she gotten old? Had my actions and those of my mother caused her to age more rapidly than she would have otherwise?

  I had a lot to answer for, too.

  “You don’t have to do this,” I said, concerned about her. “Janet shouldn’t have asked you.”

  “Nonsense,” she said. “I’m looking forward to it. I don’t doubt that books will be written about this night, Marcie. No one else has ever attempted an uncloaking ritual. We shall all be famous.”

  I didn’t care about being famous. I just wanted to be alive when it was over. If I could feel the pulse of power in this room already and nothing had happened, what was it going to be like with fifty witches all chanting spells and doing their thing?

  We were about to find out.

  The witches began to form a circle and Nonnie went to join them. Janet entered the room, made her way to the center of the circle and addressed them all, turning slowly as she did so. I stood to the left and rear, waiting to be summoned.

  Her voice carried easily and I wondered if it was the acoustics in the room or if she was simply used to speaking to a crowd and adjusted the volume of her voice accordingly.

  "In the cloaking ritual," Janet said, “the subject’s power is used to create the cloak. The stronger the abilities, the greater the cloaking.”

  If Dan was as powerful as my grandmother said, then no wonder his cloak had lasted all these years. Did that mean that I was Dan’s match in power? My presence, according to him, was sufficient to erase the cloaking. Or maybe I was just some kind of magical backspace.

  “You are all here by virtue of your abilities and your love and affection for my son. We suspect he is in danger and needs his powers to escape.”

  At least she didn’t mention me.

  “Some of you have never taken part in a cloaking ceremony. None of us have ever done what we are about to do.”

  To their credit, none of the witches looked perturbed by that comment. Nor did anyone look at another witch with a glance that said, “Let’s get out of here.” They all looked fixed and purposeful and, like my grandmother, downright eager.

  “The ritual will have two parts,” Janet was saying. “The first will be to build up our power.” She glanced at me once. That’s where I came in. “In the second part, we will have to reverse the spell we did ten years ago.”

  Now some of the witches looked worried. Since I didn’t know diddly about spells, I wondered if reversing a spell had some inherent
danger built into it. Maybe a spell carried with it a failsafe device: whosoever shall mess with this will be in danger of hellfire, or at least draw back a bloody stub.

  Janet waved me into position at her side. That was new. Maybe she just didn’t want me standing behind her. I couldn’t blame her. I was a loose cannon as far as she was concerned, the woman who single-handedly screwed up her son’s cloaking.

  Amazing what passion can do.

  I pressed my palm against my waist. My prayer was simple. Please, God, don’t let anything happen to my child. The second prayer was layered atop the first. Please, God, don’t let anything happen to Dan.

  Did God hear the prayers of humans turned vampires turned Dirugu, Pranic and heaven knows what else I was? Or was God super pissed because I’d called myself a goddess once or twice? Take it out on me, God, and no one else, but not until my child is safely born.

  Would God accept ultimatums?

  In a world overflowing with creatures of all shapes, sizes, and abilities, were there such things as angels? Were angels truly what they were billed to be, messengers who interceded between humans and God? Did they ever lobby for vampires? If so, I needed to locate my guardian angel and have the dude do something.

  I needed all the help I could get.

  Janet made a gesture with both hands. The witches started chanting what sounded like Psalms from the Bible. The florescent lights suddenly dimmed. I hadn’t seen a dimmer on the wall switch, so I figured it was something the witches were doing. They weren’t attired in robes like they’d been at the witch test. There weren’t any candles. But even without the trappings, there was so much atmosphere in this room that it was almost like another entity.

  I felt something rolling around my feet, then rising slightly to my knees. It didn’t hurt; it wasn’t warm or cold. It was just there, like Charlie sat on my feet sometimes. Just to let me know he was near in case I was tempted to forget. What I was feeling was the active, sustained, and directed consciousness of fifty witches. They were anchoring me in place. I was the wick to their lighter, but they held the fuel.

  I’ve never been more terrified in my life.

  I was alone as I’ve never been alone. Dan wasn’t here to protect me. Mike wasn’t my bodyguard. I didn’t have anyone - not even Nonnie - to ensure I was whole and safe after all this.

  Marcie was going to have to look after Marcie.

  One of the funny things about terror. It can ice your stomach, give you a taste of bile on your tongue, seemingly freeze your bodily functions, slow your heart and keep you rooted to the spot.

  Yet it was powerless in the face of anger.

  I turned my head to look at Janet. I don’t know if she was stirring up my emotions somehow or if I’d just had enough of everything. I had been pushed to the edge of my patience, understanding, and tolerance.

  Anger had changed since I’d become a vampire. It was a being, one that I now let occupy my body. I felt the redness of it, the fire-like heat enter me. All the slights and irritations I’d absorbed over the months merged and solidified.

  I allowed myself to think of Doug, who’d seduced me on cue and Maddock who’d taken advantage. There was my mother who’d killed another creature trying to eliminate me and Nonnie who’d never told me the truth in my entire life. There was Kenisha who’d blamed me for Opie’s death and Opie who hadn’t told me she was possessing my dog until it suited her. Meng and Dr. Stallings had both betrayed me. The Librarian had lied and deceived me. Even the man I’d always thought of as my father had lied. He couldn’t be bothered to say, “Hey, kid, no same-o DNA.” Janet had hated me on sight, but hadn’t bothered to explain why. While I was at it, I was going to throw in Diane Trenton to the mix just to prove that I could be a shallow bitch at times.

  The only person who hadn’t betrayed me, lied to me, or tried to harm me was Dan. Okay, maybe he hadn’t told me about being a wizard, but I was willing to forgive him for the sin of omission.

  I loved him. I hadn’t wanted to. It was inconvenient, painful, and it was probably going to be messy. I’m sure it was going to hurt down the road, but I didn’t care.

  If anger was a force to fight terror, then love had to be worth something, too.

  I turned away from Janet, surveying all the witches in the room. By the faint light I could see they were all watching me. Did they think I was going to explode like a roman candle?

  Look witches, watch and learn. See what one angry Pranic goddess can do.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  I Was Wind, Fire, Earth, Water, Spirit And Life

  My mouth curved in a half smile as I closed my eyes. Slowly, I lifted my arms and turned in a circle, taking my time, feeling the power from each one of them. They fed me and I took their fuel and expanded it, multiplying it by a thousand percent.

  I heard Janet speak beside me. I couldn’t understand the words she spoke, but I thought they were Latin. If she was reciting the spell, then I needed to pump up my effort.

  I thought of Dan, the way he had of smiling that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. I thought of the morning when the dawn sky had been revealed to me and the sense of goodness and joy I’d experienced. I remembered the sound of my own laughter, the rumble of it in my chest, the sting of tears when I cried despite my resolve.

  I felt the wonder of the moment when I was told I would bear a child. I thought of all the scenes I’d envisioned since, of holding him in my arms, of watching him learn about his fingers and toes and the world beyond.

  As the power grew, I began to understand the magic the witches commanded.

  None of it was founded on base emotions. Only love and joy were invited into their meetings and their spells. Hatred, fear, anger, envy - none of these emotions were welcome.

  I recalled those times with Nonnie when I stood at her side by the stove, waiting until that magical moment when our concoction turned into jam. Or when I sat at the table impatiently waiting for the first bite of peanut butter cookies we’d baked. Later, we had remarkable conversations about men and love and life and disappointment and achievement and ambition. Through it all, I’d felt the thread of love so strong that I was ashamed I hadn’t always acknowledged it. She might have lied, but as she told Janet earlier, it was to protect all of them.

  My aura began to rise even though I hadn’t commanded it. That wasn’t the only change, either. It wasn’t gold. It was red, a pure crimson so bright that it made me blink when I opened my eyes.

  I wasn’t the only one to see it, either.

  Janet’s voice faltered a little before she carried on with the spell. Nonnie came forward and stood in front of me, her eyes steady as she regarded me. I nodded to her, just once, and she nodded back. We hadn’t spoken the words, but we’d said them, regardless.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, I am, Nonnie.”

  The other witches kept up with their prayers, their eyes widening. William put his arm around Sylvia. The gesture made me like him more. If all hell broke loose, his arm wasn’t going to do anything to help Sylvia, but he’d declared himself her protector anyway.

  I dropped to my knees, the sudden fall jarring and scaring me. At the same time, I felt a heaviness, like a cloud of lead, drop on top of me. I had a feeling that the spell had taken on a form and it had decided to pick on me.

  Sitting, I crossed my legs and put my hands on my knees. I closed my eyes again and envisioned a cannon. A second later I changed my mind. A cannon is a gun and guns were used in warfare and there are a lot of emotions swirling around during warfare, but few of them were filled with love or joy.

  If I was going to give power to the spell, then I was going to have to think differently.

  I remembered the night I spent in Dan’s arms in my bed. The warmth of his skin against mine. The curve of his smile as he kissed me. I felt his skin beneath my palms even now, could sculpt his muscles in clay. I liked the bulb of his shoulders, the way his arms flexed as he lowered himself over me. I even lik
ed his feet and I don’t think I’d ever noticed a man’s feet before.

  This was the most dangerous part. I knew that instinctively. I turned my hands over until my palms were exposed. I sat up straight, my eyes still closed, and opened my heart. I released everything I was feeling, every secret thought, every hidden wish or prayer.

  I allowed myself to reveal my vulnerability. All the times I’d messed up and hidden my flaws, all the secrets I held, all the insecurities I had about my character, my personality, my body. With the revelation, I discovered something curious. I wasn’t weaker by admitting everything. Instead, I was stronger.

  The space where I’d stored everything that embarrassed or shamed me was cavernous, but nature does indeed abhor a vacuum. In the next minutes I felt myself being filled by a crimson light. A light the same color as Valentine’s Day hearts and Christmas wreaths, lipstick painted lips and strong emotion. The color of love and romance and words like till death us do part.

  I understood in that moment. I began to smile as the knowledge flooded into every pore, every nerve.

  Love would save Dan. Love would strip him of the cloak he’d worn and restore him to himself.

  What he’d wanted was to be himself, to achieve and win as Dan Travis without powers. He’d not understood that he would never simply be Dan Travis and that the world needed him to be his most authentic self. Wizard and warrior.

  Perhaps a father, certainly a lover. A protector and friend. An employer and example.

  I couldn’t see him, but I could feel him. His goodness and his exasperation at the roadblocks he had to occasionally navigate. I knew of his impatience and his kindness, his diligence and his impulsivity. I knew the whole of him and respected the man, his mission, his determination to be better than his limitations.

  As a wizard he would have few restraints but many temptations, and having been mortal, human, and frail had prepared him for the role he must assume. He knew that already.