by Karen Ranney
Maybe I was going to have to be more direct. I drank the rest of my coffee, set the cup down on the saucer with a delicate clink, my eyes focused on the china rather than him.
“Are you my dog?”
Could I even claim a dog as mine if the dog wasn’t really a dog? I was sad about that and the feeling of loss surprised me. I’d never had a dog before and I had willingly accepted Mutt into my life. I’d even considered enrolling for training classes, taking him to the vet for a checkup, making sure he was on heartworm medication. All the things a responsible owner does with a pet. But I don’t suppose I have to worry about the vet appointment and all the other things if he wasn’t real.
“I am not your dog,” he said, smiling slightly.
“Then what are you?”
Dan wasn’t a hundred percent human. I knew that without being told. I didn’t know what he was, but he was different. I wasn’t sure I believed him about not being Mutt. After all, he and Mutt were never in the same place at the same time. Like now.
As if he heard my thoughts, his smile broadened.
“Your dog is in the kennel,” he said. “He’s been fed, exercised, and he’s with the other castle dogs. He’s even formed a particular friendship with a female black lab named Noir.”
So he said.
“You have other castle dogs?”
“Hunting dogs, blue heelers, and a half dozen black labs.”
“Are they allowed inside the castle?”
South Texas was too hot for most dogs to remain outside all the time, unless they had a shaded run and plenty of water. I’d seen too many stories about owners who had simply forgotten about their poor dogs.
“The trained ones are,” he said.
The inference being, of course, that Mutt wasn’t trained. Okay, maybe we hadn’t been around each other that long, but I knew he was house trained. That is, if he was just a dog and not something else.
“Are you sure you aren’t a shape shifter?”
He held up his right hand, palm toward me. “On my honor,” he said. “I am not a shape shifter.”
I noticed he didn’t tell me what he was, though.
He reached into his pants pocket, put something on the table and slid it across to me. A brand new phone, a model I hadn’t used before. I’d been too cheap to spend that amount of money on a phone, especially since most of my friends didn’t want to text a vampire.
“You already gave me a phone.” My old one was at Maddock’s house, probably wedged in his couch cushions.
“This one’s better.”
Could it keep vampires away? Answer esoteric questions? Rock me to sleep at night? Make me a margarita?
I had a feeling I was going to get an argument if I refused to take it. I didn’t need Dan’s charity or kindness or goodwill or whatever you want to call it. I could afford my own phone, but when I asked how much I owed him, he frowned at me.
“Nothing.”
I could argue the point, or just shut up and say, “Thank you.” I opted for the latter. I told myself it’s because I wasn’t feeling all that spiffy yet.
"I've arranged for your old number to forward to this phone," he said. “I’m number one on speed dial. Mike’s two.”
He gave me the number as I fiddled with it, learning the basics. I raised it, took his picture, capturing his startled smile. I stared down into the screen.
“You’re very photogenic,” I said and it was true. The camera loved him.
“I’m sorry again about my mother.”
I glanced up at him. “She doesn’t like me. Is she prejudiced against vampires?”
I could understand her reaction if she was. Half of society had embraced vampirism while the rest rejected it. There was no happy medium, no “give me more information and I’ll make up my mind later.” People had formed judgments based on books and movies. Some of the information they had was right. Most of it was wrong.
The younger the person was, the more easily he could accept the idea of humans outside the boundaries of normal. But the older people were the lawmakers, the authorities.
“No, she’s just protective.”
“Will she be staying long?”
“She’s already left,” he said. “She doesn’t stay overnight.”
“So she just came to check on you. Or me.”
He nodded, his smile easing the sting of the truth.
At least in my human form I’d never had to worry much about Bill’s mother. She fussed at him periodically from time to time about not being married, but I don’t think her heart was in it. She and I talked on the phone, shared recipes and stories about Bill.
When Bill and I separated, I realized I missed her more than Bill. What did that say about my relationship?
"She might be in danger," I said. “Anyone around you might be in danger. Maddock could do any number of awful things to you and your family in order to get to me."
“Don’t you think I’m prepared for that?”
“Is that the reason for the alarms?” I asked.
He didn’t answer, only grabbed the tray and began to put the empty dishes back on it.
“Why are you willing to protect me?”
He stood, opened the door, and walked back into the bedroom. After placing the tray on the table by the door, he turned to face me, folding his arms until his muscles bulged. How many hours a day did he work out?
"I'm not all that fond of vampires," he said. "Especially Maddock. At first I was interested in you because of him. I wanted to know what there was about you that fascinated him. Then I got to know you a little. I don't think of you as a vampire, Marcie. I think you're something else. I don't know what you are, but all I know is you need help. What kind of man would I be if I turned you away now?"
"Wise,” I said. "Smart."
He only shook his head.
I was grateful to him for taking me into his house and keeping me safe, but this was only a short term solution and we both knew it. I needed to be able to live my life on my terms, free of interference either from vampires or former Rangers.
“We'll get to that training you wanted in a day or two," he said.
Good, I didn’t think I could pick up a feather today, let alone train in martial arts. Besides, I had my own plans first. I needed information. I couldn't exist in this fog of ignorance any longer. I had to know what was happening.
I nodded, thanked Dan for breakfast and closed the door behind him.
I had a relatively normal American childhood. Granted, my mother was amoral, but my grandmother had always been warm and loving, at least to my childish eyes. Looking back now, I saw so many instances of her observing me. What would she have done if I had demonstrated any vampire powers? If she had handed me a hamburger one day and my fangs snicked out at the taste of medium rare? Would she have stabbed me to death? Given me a potion that put me to sleep forever? Convened her coven to issue a witchy fatwa?
Yet she’d protected me not only from my mother but the members of her coven.
Would she do it again?
The only way to find out was go and ask.
CHAPTER FOUR
Mirror, mirror on the wall…who is that hag?
A mirror took up one wall of the bathroom. I didn’t have a choice but to look at myself. My eyes looked haunted, the dark circles under them disturbing me. I didn’t use much makeup, but now I wished I had some concealer. Better white circles then raccoon eyes. The rest of my face looked pale and wrinkly, too. I needed moisturizer or something.
Reluctantly, I grabbed the brown bottle on the counter, hoping my reaction to the potion wouldn’t be as awful as last night. I said a prayer just in case God wasn’t still pissed at me for choosing to become a vampire.
I changed into something proper that wouldn’t offend my grandmother. In this case, a dark blue skirt that fell below my knees and a white and blue patterned loose fitting short sleeve top with a jacket. I wore my silver earrings and the pendant Nonnie had given me.
> Now I wondered if it had some sort of forget me spell. Or a charm against vampires. If that was the case, I should wear it all the time.
Ten minutes later I raced for the bathroom, dropping the phone on the carpet, skidding to a halt in front of the toilet and losing my breakfast. This bout of sickness wasn’t as bad as the night before. Maybe there was something in the potion that I didn’t like or that didn’t like me. Maybe if I kept taking it, it wouldn’t bother me after a few more days.
Positive Marcie strikes again.
I was very tempted to close the bathroom door, huddle on the floor, and rock back and forth until my world reverted to something I could recognize.
Did other vampires have a BF and AF, Before Fangdom and After Fangdom delineation in their lives? My life was in two distinct parts. The Marcie Montgomery, insurance adjuster part where I worked every day, in order to find a meaning for my life and not be lonely, and the person who woke up in the VRC and proceeded to be a very weird vampire.
What did they do before the VRC? Or Orientation, for that matter? Were the popular fiction books right on that count? I remember reading that a vampire was beholden to his maker, the vampire who turned him. He or she was the one who educated the fledgling vampire and was responsible for him. Nowadays, the Council was supreme. I couldn’t imagine having to swear allegiance to Doug, dirtbag that he was.
I was sick again.
Long minutes later I stood, walked to the sink and brushed my teeth. A good thing I hadn’t messed with makeup, because I had to wash my face with cold water a few times before I got rid of that prickly, sweaty feeling.
I made faces at myself in the mirror, slapped some color into my cheeks, and finally shook my head. I looked awful. Plus, the welts on my arm were still swollen. Had that awful woman had something on her nails that prompted an allergic response?
I fervently hoped I didn’t see Janet Travis any time soon.
Grabbing my purse, I left the room intending to do battle with my bodyguards.
Neither Dan nor Mike disappointed me. They both waited at the base of the sweeping stairs.
I defy anybody to make their way through Mike. I might be able to talk Dan into moving, but there was no way that Mike, having been threatened with termination if I left Arthur’s Folly, was going to budge.
“Are there cameras in my room?” I asked, pushing back my irritation. “How else do you always know when I’m getting ready to leave?”
“There aren’t any cameras in your room,” Dan said calmly. His face was stone, an implacable expression that hid what he was really feeling. “But there’s one in the hall. And a pressure sensor.”
Great, it probably measured my weight, too. There were some things I didn’t want Dan to know.
"You can't leave," Dan said.
I wouldn’t have headed for the front of the house if I’d figured out the way back to the parking garage. I knew how to get there around the side of the house, since I’d done it before, but I didn’t feel like pushing my way through the hedges today.
Both of them stood there stoic, patient, and one of them smiling pleasantly. Mike didn’t smile at me any more, but Dan's expression could warm the cockles of a frozen heart.
I was a big scary vampire. Why weren’t they impressed?
“I have to go see my grandmother,” I said.
For more than one reason, but I wasn’t going to tell him, not when Mike was standing there listening. The whole house was probably listening.
“It isn’t safe, Marcie.”
“It’s daylight, Dan. Maddock hasn’t yet acquired the ability to walk in the sun.”
“But he employs men who do,” he said. “Men who would be more than happy to get a bonus for catching you.”
He ought to know. He’d been one of Maddock’s men.
“Call her,” he said.
“She isn’t taking my calls,” I said. At least not the three calls I’d made since he upgraded me.
"It isn't safe, Marcie," he repeated.
I couldn’t argue that. “I’m not going to be gone long,” I said. “Maybe an hour or two.”
When he didn’t say anything, I blew out an exasperated breath.
"I can't stay here for the rest of my life, Dan.”
How was I supposed to discover anything if I was an eternal guest at Arthur’s Folly? The information I needed wasn’t on Google or the Internet. I had to take a chance. I had to do something proactive. I couldn’t just sit here and react to circumstances.
“I’ll take Mutt,” I said.
He studied me for about a minute, the seconds ticking by on the back of an arthritic turtle. I didn’t say anything. Neither did Mike, who stood there like a big black totem beside Dan.
I wondered if he and Kenisha would hit it off and was determined to get them together. Who knows, it might improve both their moods.
Finally, Dan glanced at Mike. “Go get the dog.”
Mike left us, his shoes squeaking as he turned and opened a door in the ornate paneling.
A few moments later, I heard the click, click, click of canine toenails on the marble floor. A flash of beige fur solidified to become Mutt half running, half sliding down the wide corridor toward me.
I bent and stretched my arms wide and he was suddenly there, all wet tongue and floppy ears.
Dan hadn’t disappeared. He was standing there watching us. So was Mike, my second choice for shape shifter.
Mutt was panting and drooling all over me. I bent down and kissed him between the eyes, ruffled the fur behind his ears, and praised him for being brave and courageous and a sweetheart. I was going to be covered in dog hair for my meeting with my grandmother. At the moment, however, it didn’t matter.
When I stood, Mutt moved to sit at my feet. He stared up at the two men in front of him, mouth open, tongue lolling. When Mike bent toward him, he growled. Mike didn’t try to pet him again, merely straightened, he and Mutt glaring at each other.
“He’s my guardian,” I said, beginning to reevaluate the scene at the lake.
Dan hadn’t saved me. Mutt had.
“Sorry,” I said, a half assed apology for believing he was something more than human.
Hey, the temptation was there. If I could believe in vampires, I could believe in shape shifters. According to information I’d been given, there were all sorts of Brethren who had not yet become known to the general public.
As far as I was concerned, keeping it to vampires and witches would make my life a lot simpler.
Dan bent down and rubbed his hand over Mutt’s head. The dog was smart and didn’t growl. Evidently, he knew whose kibble he’d eaten.
“Can I leave now?”
“Mike’s going to follow you,” Dan said.
I nodded, giving in. I understood the dangers and I wasn’t stupid enough to reject any help. I just wished Mike wasn’t so, well, visible.
I glanced at the big, bad bodyguard. “Do you have a concealed carry permit?” I asked, which was a semi tactful way of asking, do you have a gun and are you prepared to use it?
He nodded once.
“Are you going to follow right behind me?”
Dan answered. “You won’t see him, but he’ll be there.”
I eyed him, suddenly certain that Dan would also send someone else to follow me, just in case I slipped past the surly bonds of Mike.
I couldn’t help but wonder why Dan cared. He was a nice guy, and sexy as hell, but I wasn’t exactly in the mood for any kind of relationship. Was he just a good Samaritan? Or was there something behind his protectiveness?
One more damn question.
Mutt, and I had to come up with a better name soon, insisted on sitting shotgun. I insisted on a seatbelt. It was non-negotiable and we had a war of wills for a few minutes, his soulful brown eyes staring into my narrowed blue ones.
“I don't care, if you want to sit in the front seat you have to have a seatbelt on. No seatbelt? You sit in the back."
He whined like a dog b
eing tortured for ten seconds. I ignored him, fastened the seatbelt and tested it to make sure it wasn't loose, got into the driver seat, and moved his tail away from the console.
I did the finger wavy thing in the rearview mirror to Mike who didn't respond. Why hadn't Dan followed me? He was all geared up to be a hero, then he pulled away at odd moments. Maybe he didn't want to meet my grandmother. Another mystery there, one I didn't have the patience to solve right at the moment.
I tried to remember if Nonnie ever had a pet and couldn't recall one. She hadn’t even had a cat. Do witches have something against dogs?
I glanced at Mutt.
"Archibald," I said. "I could call you Archie." Mutt whined again."You don't like that? How about Micah? That's a good old fashioned name." I shot him another look. "But you're not really a good old fashioned guy, are you?"
An enthusiastic tail batted my hand.
"Then how about something plain and manly like Howard?”
Mutt turned his head and stared at me.
“Dick?”
He was back to whining.
“Sampson. Rex. Willy. Mugsy. George.”
He just stared at me again.
“Tyler. Butch. Shadow.”
No response. I was running out of names. Finally, I thought of the guy who’d fed me shots and a beer in college.
"How about Charlie? Charlie's a good name."
No whine. His tail thumped against the console.
I made a turn outside the gate, crossing the two way access road with care.
I hadn’t seen anyone but Mike so far. No car hiding in the bushes. There weren't any billboards along the highway, cover for someone in black leather on a motorcycle. If there was a sniper sitting somewhere, he'd have to be in one of the mesquite trees, easily seen.
No, my greatest danger came from witches who could suddenly appear in the backseat. Or preternaturally fast vampires who flattened themselves against my windshield at night. Nothing so normal as a sniper for me.
