by Karen Ranney
Contents
The Reluctant Goddess
Copyright
The vampire princess in the castle
Square peg, round hole
Lassie, is that you, boy?
Mirror, mirror on the wall…who is that hag?
Grandma, what big eyes you have
The dog barks, but the caravan moves on
In her defense, she’d been trying to kill me
Kenisha and Mikey, sitting on a tree
A book is like a garden carried in the pocket
Did the earth move for you, too?
It’s for your own good, I promise, canine version
It’s for your own good, I promise, human version
Do I need uninsured vampire insurance?
An apple a day keeps the doctor away, but if the doctor is cute, forget the fruit.
My libido escapes its cage
Down into the dungeon, m’lady
Normal with sex, please
The strings are still vibrating
Don’t shoot me, I’m just the messenger
Vampires can’t be choosers
Come hell or high fang
A cock and fang story
Bye bye baby, baby bye bye
Dropping like flies
Do you feel me?
I wanted to bite the hand that scratched me
I’m just a goddess in a gilded cage
Cookies and ice cream and condoms, oh my
Dogs leave paw prints on your heart
Other Smother
Come, my little vampire, said the spider to me
Someone’s elevator doesn’t go to the penthouse
The best laid plans of vampires…
A Pow Wow of Witches
Dear Reader
The Reluctant Goddess
Karen Ranney
The Reluctant Goddess
This book is protected under the US Copyright Act of 1976 and all other applicable international, federal, state and local laws, and all rights are reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement.
Copyright © 2015 Karen Ranney
All rights reserved worldwide.
CHAPTER ONE
The vampire princess in the castle
Any minute, I had to stand up and walk back to the house, or Arthur's Folly as it was called. Dan’s grandfather had been Arthur Peterson, the founder of Cluckey's Fried Chicken, a true gastronomical horror. Evidently, really bad fried chicken paid well because the house was a sprawling castle in the ironically named Welfare, Texas, located outside of San Antonio.
I was delaying standing up because I wasn't sure my knees could support me. My hands were still trembling and I had that sickening hollow feeling in the middle of my stomach.
A badass I'm not.
I didn’t have any weapons other than one hypodermic and it had rolled to the edge of the deck. With each sloshing wave, it threatened to fall into the water.
Would I be polluting the entire lake with rabies?
I leaned over as far as I could, bumped my elbow on the wooden deck and retrieved the needle. Holding it between two fingers, I stared at it, wondering what to do now.
That's the problem with my life lately. There were no roadmaps. When I was an insurance adjuster I knew what I was going to do every day. I got up, readied myself for work, took out the garbage if it needed it, got gas in the car if it was lower than a quarter tank. Every situation had a corresponding response.
Nothing had been simple since BF: Before Fangdom and the day I woke up in the Vampire Resuscitation Center after a torrid love fest with Doug Williams, a very fangy vampire. Let’s just say things got out of control and wham! Welcome to your new world, Marcie Montgomery. You’re a vampire.
Oh, by the way, you’re not a normal vampire.
Fast forward a few months later and I was trying to escape my destiny which was, according to Niccolo Maddock, a master vampire with delusions of grandeur, to mother his children.
Ewww didn’t even begin to cover my feelings on that score.
Somehow I got to my feet, Mutt looking up at me with his golden retriever grin. Maybe I was wrong about him, too. I didn't think so, however. As improbable, implausible, and downright impossible as everything sounded, I was a vampire and my closest companion was a hottie, a former Ranger who could turn into a dog.
Who says my life isn't interesting?
I stumbled to one of the couches on the floating island and sat heavily. I needed to get to the castle. Maddock could send one of his many minions after me. I might be a vampire but I wasn’t equipped to defend myself. Not a badass, remember?
However, I did come from hardy stock. Consider my grandmother, a witch. I suspected Nonnie was a very powerful witch. And my mother? She was a murderer. I was the intended victim but she missed and got someone else, instead. Poor Ophelia, who only wanted to be beautiful forever and ended up being squished like a bug.
I couldn’t be all that sanctimonious, however, since I’d plotted to kill the grand Poobah of vampires.
Of course, he wasn't dead yet and there was no guarantee he would die. I’d injected him with the rabies vaccine. Vampires can die through blood borne diseases, which is why they’re such whiny hypochondriacs, present company probably included.
If someone had injected me, I would have trotted to the nearest hospital to find out if I was in danger. Niccolo Maddock, however, was replete with one character flaw that might give me a chance: he was an arrogant SOB.
Maddock was actually a duke. I imagine being royalty in the 21st century was rather disconcerting. Did anybody care anymore? To be really effective as royalty, don't you need paupers? At the very least you should have serfs. Nowadays, you have to pay people.
I've seen Maddock’s home. He employs a great many servants and I don't doubt they’re all highly paid. After all, they're working for a vampire. Not that anybody cares anymore. It's a lot like pot. Once upon a time smoking pot was frowned on. Then it became the thing to do. Then, after it was legalized, nobody seemed to notice.
When vampires first came onto the scene, or they were discovered by DNA, there was a lot of talk about civilization dying, the second coming of Christ, and Armageddon. Now that they've been out, if you'll pardon the expression, for a while, people aren’t all that outraged. The only people who are belong to groups like The Militia of God, the Council of Human Creationism, and NAAH (the National Association for the Advancement of Humans). Oh, there’s still racism, or being a vampist, a term that combines racist with vampire. Some people hate vampires and always will.
Some try to be a vampire, like one of my fellow fledglings told me.
"You don't have to die of blood borne diseases anymore, Marcie. If you get diagnosed, like I was, with leukemia, you've got a choice. Go the treatment route or choose to…"
I knew Felipe had gone the treatment route, but nothing worked. Finally, he'd asked permission to be turned.
My situation was a little bit different. At first, I thought it was the aforementioned excessively horny vampire who had just gotten carried away. I’d hated Doug for weeks until I realized he was just a spoke in the wheel that had become my life. He was given a job to do and that was turn me into a
vampire.
You see, my real father was a vampire. Vampires are not supposed to be able to procreate. Maybe it has something to do with your heart beating once a week. Or maybe all your organs drying up once you die. A female vampire’s uterus must be as dry as the Sahara. A male vampire wasn’t supposed to have any sperm wiggling around in his testicles.
The upshot was that already being half a vampire meant I was now a vampire and a half, with witch blood, making me something special.
I eat, for one thing. Not blood, either, the thought of which still curdles my stomach. I love tacos and anything fried. If it comes with a dipping sauce, all the better. Most vampires pretend to eat food in public, so as not to call attention to their condition. Me? I don’t have a problem scarfing anything down.
Right now, for example, my stomach was rumbling, telling me it had been a few hours since I’d eaten.
I can walk in the sun, too, a newly discovered trait. It beats burning my derriere like the morning of the first day after returning home. I still remember those blisters. Now no blisters, no sunburn, just a wonderful feeling of freedom.
At the moment, however, I wasn't so concerned about my “specialness” as I was walking back to the castle. My legs were still shaking.
I stuck my feet out, dangling them over the lake. The gazebo where I sat jutted out into the water like an island or one of those fancy dancy retreats where you go to fix your marriage.
I’ve never been married, unlike my mother who’s been married three times. I lived with Bill for a few years, but that didn’t exactly turn out for the best. Or maybe it did. We aren’t living together anymore.
Mutt whined and I bent to scratch between his ears.
"So what do you think, boy? Do you have to get back to the castle before you change into a human being?"
His big brown eyes twinkled and his tongue lolled out of his mouth.
"You just don't want me to see you naked."
A husky chuffing sound might be laughter or just because he was thirsty.
"Thank you for saving my life," I said.
He leaned against my leg.
I was too close to tears for comfort. I had to go back to the castle or Dan’s house, which meant Dan was a millionaire or maybe even a billionaire, a shape shifting billionaire. Moments earlier he had bitten Il Duce, hard enough that Maddock hadn't been able to hurt me. Not like he had two nights earlier.
I couldn't call it rape, not when everything in me had wanted him. Never mind that it was a reaction caused by a drug, I somehow felt responsible, guilty about my behavior. Was that how rape victims felt? As if they’d done something wrong?
I couldn’t think about Maddock any longer. I had the unwelcome ability to summon him with my thoughts. The last thing I wanted was another encounter tonight.
My stomach rumbled again.
I glanced down at the dog.
“Let’s go get dinner,” I said, priorities being what they were.
He made another chuffing sound and stayed by my side as we started back to the castle.
CHAPTER TWO
Square peg, round hole
The air smelled of rain, something always welcomed in South Texas. I hoped it would storm. I loved booming thunder and lightning zigzagging across a black sky.
I walked back to the castle slowly, still not all that certain of my balance and grateful for the lights lining the path.
Night imbued Arthur’s Folly with magic. Topiary animals crouched at the front and corners of the three story structure built of Texas granite. The gray stone was transformed to silver in the floodlights, each of the mullioned windows glittering like amused eyes.
You didn’t expect a medieval castle in the middle of the Texas Hill Country. I suspect Arthur’s Folly would look strange in any setting. Still, the sight of it made me smile and that was a feat, considering the evening I’d had.
I was tired, but it was fatigue caused by too much worry. Now that I’d done the only thing I could think of doing, I was stymied.
What did I do now?
Take the potion my grandmother had sent me to ensure I wasn’t pregnant and pray to God it worked. Find a place to live, somewhere free of vampire intrusion. Learn more about who I was, what I was. Find out more about my father, if that was possible.
Confront Dan.
Eat something.
Not necessarily in that order.
I approached the front door of the castle, complete with faux drawbridge and a ditch wide and deep enough to be considered a moat. Somewhere between the lake and here, I'd lost my dog. No doubt Mutt was going to open the door in his human form and pretend ignorance of any shape shifting ability.
Dan wasn't at the door, but Mike was. Dan’s number two was tall and broad, with chocolate skin that made the flash of his smile even more appealing. He wasn’t smiling now. I had slipped past him once. His look told me I wasn’t going to be able to do it again.
"Dinner's ready," Mike said. "Do you want it in the dining room or in your room?"
I stared at him, flummoxed by the question. Dinner was ready? I had just poisoned a very important vampire, been saved by a shape shifting dog, and dinner was ready?
Thank God.
"What are we having?" I asked, although it didn’t really matter. I was starving.
"Steak, potatoes, and salad. Cheesecake for dessert."
I had a feeling I wasn't going to get any cheesecake until I finished my dinner like a good little girl. I really wanted the cheesecake first, but I kept my mouth shut except for telling him that I'd prefer the dining room. I didn’t want to be alone just yet.
He turned on his heel and I followed him, hoping that he wouldn’t simply lead me to the room and abandon me at the door.
What I needed right now was companionship. I wanted to pretend that my life was normal. I wanted to be human or human like, not a very odd vampire. I wanted to talk about current events, the Spurs, the Stock Show and Rodeo in a few months, Fiesta. Conversation anyone else could overhear and not think odd.
To my relief, Mike didn't leave me at the door, but escorted me to a throne like chair at the end of a long mahogany table.
He sat in the middle, opposite a woman I’d never met. She turned and smiled at me, nodded, then returned her attention to Mike.
Introductions were not forthcoming. I wondered if I should say something or settle back into silence. You couldn't screw up when you didn't say anything. Nobody thought you were an idiot when you were silent.
The woman looked my age or even younger. Her hair was black, so deep a shade it had the same bluish tint I’d seen on a grackle as it strutted across my patio. I had a strange and fleeting thought that she might well be a grackle with her imposing nose and piercing green eyed stare.
Her dress, a rich brocade in purple and red and brilliant greens, had a scoop neck and sleeves slit to the elbow. Each of the metallic threads captured the light from the two silver candelabras on the table. The flame shaped light bulbs were the only concession to the present. Otherwise, the room mirrored Arthur’s love of the middle ages.
A tapestry featuring a castle, a forest, and frolicking unicorns was hung from one wall. A massive fireplace with a marble mantle took up another wall. I knew for a fact that Arthur’s Folly had central air. But in winter was everyone expected to stand in front of a fireplace? A good thing Arthur had built his castle in South Texas. Our winters were temperate. We rarely got to freezing, except in the Hill Country and we weren’t quite there.
The table was mahogany, well polished and draped with one long crimson silk runner on which the candelabras sat. The chairs were heavily upholstered in a tapestry like fabric, but there were only four of them, leading me to think this might be considered the family dining room. No doubt there was a grander room for company.
The door at the opposite end of the room opened and Dan strode through, dressed in black trousers and a crimson polo shirt. He smiled at me, went to the woman in the middle of the table and bent down
to place a kiss on her cheek.
"Have you met Marcie, Mother?"
"I have not," she said turning and sending a brilliant smile in my direction.
Mother?
Was she a shape shifter, too? If so, it was certainly a beauty regimen. Her face was smooth and unlined, her lips full and crimson colored. I’d always thought that women should lighten up on the lipstick the older they got, because it made them look a little creepy and Noirish, but Dan’s mother was the exception.
“Janet Travis,” she said, extending her hand to me, fingers draping toward the floor as if the effort was almost beyond her.
I stood and moved to take her hand, knowing, before I did so, that her fingers would feel like the underbelly of a week old fish.
Why do women shake hands like that? Give me a woman with a firm handshake and I am liable to trust her more than someone who made me feel like I should kiss her ring.
Janet only wore one ring, but it was a doozy. She probably had to have some kind of ring sunshade on it so it didn’t accidentally start a fire on a sunny day. You didn’t need a laser with a diamond like that.
“You’re a Montgomery?” she asked, her voice holding a tinge of the old South. “Of the Dallas Montgomerys?”
“No,” I said. “We’re San Antonio natives.”
“Pity.”
I searched my mind for something witty and sparkling to say, but was thankfully saved by the appearance of dinner.
Mike's laconic description didn't do it justice. The steak turned out to be a filet mignon with a wine and mushroom sauce. The potatoes were fingerlings brushed with butter and pepper. If the cheesecake was half as good as the rest of the meal, I would be in heaven.
Dan was seated at the head of the table, which made me wonder why I was sitting at the foot. Wouldn't that be a more proper position for his mother? I could quote you from actuarial tables about railroad accidents. I wasn't versed in high society. Nor, until this moment, would I have put Dan in that category. But he looked comfortable using the tongs to select his asparagus from the platter.
