by Karen Ranney
Oh no. No. Just no.
I leaned my head back against the chaise, closed my eyes, and said a little prayer.
My prayer wasn’t formed, more an amorphous wish to deal with what I’d just read while remaining semi-sane and healthy.
Who said that greatness was thrust upon certain people? Was it Churchill? I would have to look that up. I know one thing, even if I couldn't remember who’d said that. I wasn't the type to be the savior of mankind. I was human. Okay, maybe I wasn't human, but I was fallible. I made mistakes and they were doozies. I was occasionally unkind and I laughed at the wrong moments. And I wanted so much more than seemed possible.
I wasn’t the goddess type.
Charlie whined beside me. I opened my eyes and smiled at him.
“I’ve been ignoring you, haven’t I?” I scratched him between the ears. “Are you hungry?” I didn’t know when they fed the dogs in the kennel. Was it twice a day or only once?
As he grinned back at me I realized that I couldn’t let him go. I just couldn’t.
"Seriously, Charlie, how much is one person supposed to take, anyway? Not only did I wake up a vampire, but not just any vampire. I'm a super duper special kind. I'm able to leap tall buildings in a single bound." I glanced down at him. "Do you think I have a lariat of truth? Special wrist bracelets? At the very least I should glow in the dark.”
He put his chin on my knee.
“You're such a sweetie," I said. "You're such a good dog, aren't you?"
I swung my legs off to the side, putting the pages back into the envelope. I would read the rest in a little while. I needed to assimilate the information in manageable chunks.
“I’m sure as hell not a goddess.”
Charlie only grinned at me again.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed the number the vet had given Dan. Maybe it was a function of becoming a vampire, but I didn't have any problem remembering numbers. I could recite the VIN number of the rental car that had been totaled, the numbers on the invoices I’d seen on Mr. Brown’s counter, Unfortunately, I could recall the man's name and number with ease.
Richard Tremblay. I wondered if he went by the name Dick. Was he a dick?
I sincerely hoped not.
As the phone rang, I envisioned a man who would be overjoyed by Charlie's return. He would be grateful to me for rescuing his lost dog and would even offer to pay me a reward to show his gratitude.
He’d tell me a charming story about how Charlie had come to be named Stupid, something that would acquit him well. He would tell me how his children loved their dog and had grieved for his loss.
Better yet, he would tell me that he was tired of the dog, that he was thrilled his dog had found a new home. In response, I’d give him a reward and we’d sign an agreement that Charlie was mine.
Instead, I got Super Dick. That was okay. I was prepared.
"Yeah, the vet said you had him," Super Dick said after I introduced myself and explained why I was calling. "Be a good thing to get Stupid back in the house. I got him for my daughter and she decided she wanted a cat, so I was stuck with him. Good thing the vet called when he did. I was about ready to get another cat. But a man needs a dog, you know?"
No, I didn't know.
"Is that why you named him Stupid?"
I tried to make my voice sound as nonjudgmental as possible, but I’m sure some of my irritation must've seeped in between the words, because his attitude immediately changed from good old boy to malevolent old boy.
"He looks stupid. Some dogs just do."
I didn't like the man, but I’d been predisposed to dislike him, so I discounted my feelings.
"I'll pay you for him," I said. “Since it sounds like you don't want him anyway.”
I named a dollar amount that I thought was fair, but to tell you the truth, I was more than willing to increase it.
"Nah," he said. "It'll be something for my kids to play with when they visit."
Couldn't he just get his daughter a Barbie or something?
"How about if I increase the amount?"
"You sure are taken with that dog. Too bad he's mine, not yours."
I didn’t look at Charlie. I couldn’t bear to see his grinning, happy face when I was talking to his idiot owner.
I offered a higher amount, but all Super Dick did was laugh, a curious sound that had the hair at the back of my neck standing on end.
"No," he said. "I want to get him back as soon as possible. Where are you? I'll come and get him now."
"That wouldn't be convenient," I said. "In fact, I may not be able to make arrangements for a few days."
I closed my eyes and concentrated. You will surrender the dog to me. You will want the dog to stay with me. You don’t want the bother of a dog.
"That's stealing," he said. "I wonder how the cops would feel about that? He's not yours. He belongs to me."
This was not going how I planned it.
Why wasn’t he affected by my compelling him? Was Super Dick something other than human? I really needed to start categorizing people, finding out what they were.
He was right. Charlie didn't belong to me. Nor was there anything I could think of to do about the situation. I had Dan pushing me on one side to do the right thing and Super Dick on the other.
Sometimes life wasn't fair. I'd already figured that out on my own. But did I have to make Charlie aware of it, too? I made arrangements to meet with Super Dick the following day. I was shaking by the time I hung up the phone.
Stupid man.
I bent my head, kissed Charlie between the ears and wrapped my arms around him. I hadn’t given up, but I wasn’t feeling all that hopeful. Maybe when I met with Super Dick, he’d change his mind.
“I’m sorry, Charlie. I’m so sorry.”
Long moments later I looked up. I was getting that feeling again, the same one I’d had in my apartment. I was too old to get the heebie jeebies. Besides, I was a badass goddess or something.
“Is somebody here?”
Nothing like feeling stupid by talking to the empty room. No witches, vampires, or insane mothers appeared.
Maybe it was only my conscience whispering to me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Bye bye baby, baby bye bye
Instead of the Rolls, I persuaded Dan to use a less ostentatious car. He picked a Mercedes, a model I only knew by sight. Where had the Jeep and the Ford truck gone?
I’d agreed to meet Super Dick in the parking lot of Doug's on the corner of I-35 and O'Connor. Doug’s was a chain of coffee shops dating back to the fifties. Through the years they’d all gotten a facelift, but the decor was the same: orange and brown.
Nonnie and I had gone to Doug’s many Sundays for pancake and waffle brunch. Every time I smelled their distinctive maple syrup I was thrown back into the past, when I had to put my arms up to reach the table but declined a booster seat out of principle.
This restaurant was closer to Super Dick’s house than the castle, but I didn't mind the drive. The longer I had with Charlie, the better.
I spent most of the trip apologizing.
Mike caught my glance more then once in the rearview mirror. Dan, in the backseat with me, didn’t say anything, but he scratched Charlie from time to time and gave me a quick look when I got silent.
I was already grieving.
In another world, and another time, when I was still an insurance adjuster, such a thing might have struck me as idiotic and asinine. But I hadn’t been as open back then as I was now. I wasn’t as willing to love, either. Maybe I would never have given a stray dog another thought.
Strange, to realize that something good had come from becoming a vampire. Even stranger, to wonder if the coldness in our relationship was all on Bill’s part.
Had I somehow learned to close myself off from people?
Having a mother who really didn’t give a flying flip if I was around had been difficult at first. I’d graduall
y realized that that’s the way it was and feeling sorry for myself didn’t do anything about the situation.
I loved Nonnie all my life, but I never got a sense that she would save me from my mother. She was a temporary respite, a vacation from my life, but nothing else.
Maybe I’d loved my mother, but I was also wary of her. Somewhere along the line, the love I wanted to feel for her transformed into the respect a child is supposed to give an elder. Even that disappeared after time. The minute I could get out of her house, I did. I never went back there feeling as if I were coming home.
I learned to be self-sufficient.
I learned that love was like flowers. You truly enjoy them when you bought them, put them in a vase, and displayed them in the living room. Your apartment looked better with flowers. The world looked better with flowers, but when they died, when you put them in the trash and went back to your flowerless life, that was okay, too.
I suddenly wanted flowers in my life. I wanted not just a vase of flowers but a garden. Something else I wanted: I wanted someone to think I was their flower. I wanted to make someone else’s life better.
Marcie the Mum.
Maybe Charlie was just a dog, a heroic dog. Maybe he and I had just bonded in the woods that night. Whatever it was, I’d come to love him. And now I had to give him up.
A logical person would say that I’d no right to assume he would always remain with me. I’d found him, but I hadn’t made any effort to find his family, including taking him to a vet to see if he had an implanted chip.
But I wasn’t being logical about Charlie. I didn’t want to be logical about Charlie.
We pulled into the parking lot. Dan started to open the door and I shook my head.
“No,” I said. “I have to do this by myself.”
Charlie was my responsibility. All mine. Giving him up had to be something I did alone, too.
I got out of the car and Charlie followed me. Ever since that first night, I’d never really needed to use a collar and leash with him. He just fell into step beside me.
A man got out of a beat up red pickup and stood at the tailgate, staring at me.
Super Dick was exactly the way I’d pictured him. Of average height, he had a muscular build gone to beer fat. His belly cascaded over his belt to protect his groin.
I’ve never understood why men didn’t measure their real girth instead of buying belts based on a wish I was size.
Super Dick’s jeans were too snug, his cowboy shirt pulled tight at the snaps. He even wore boots, the kind with the pointed toes and elevated heels. I wondered if he was wearing lifts, too.
Charlie seemed interested in his approach, but he wasn't wriggling with excitement or joy. He looked at Super Dick and then at me.
When Super Dick was a few feet away, Charlie’s response still hadn’t changed. He didn't whine or bark. Instead, he moved closer to me, backing up his butt until it was on my foot.
This wasn't good.
"Hello," I said, stretching out my hand.
He ignored it.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t let me buy him from you?”
You don’t want a dog. You’re going to leave here without the dog. You don’t even want to be here.
“No,” Super Dick said. “He’ll be a good guard dog. He needs to toughen up a little, but I'll get him trained in time."
Charlie looked at me, his big brown eyes filled with more emotion than I wanted to acknowledge right now. Bursting into tears wouldn’t be helpful at this moment.
I named a higher amount.
"He's a purebred retriever,” Super Dick said. “I could get that much every time I put him out to stud."
"Name your price.”
I was prepared to go as high as he wanted. I didn't have a good feeling about Charlie's reaction to him.
The man reached for the handle to the tailgate and Charlie pulled back his lip, exposing his teeth and gums. He hadn't started growling, but his silent reaction was even more disturbing.
Super Dick opened the tailgate.
“Come on, Stupid,” he said, glaring at the dog.
He took a few steps toward Charlie who looked at me for a long moment before jumping up into the bed of the truck. I hated seeing dogs unrestrained in a pickup. If the truck stopped suddenly, the dog went flying.
Super Dick didn’t look like he cared. Nor had he even greeted Charlie. He hadn’t petted him or thanked me or done anything but be a Super Dick.
I stood there and watched the truck pull out of the parking lot, Charlie staring back at me the whole time. I felt the bond between my heart and my borrowed dog stretch until the truck was out of sight.
I made it back to the car before I started to cry.
Dan and Mike were smart enough not to say anything to me on the way back to the castle. In the mood I was in, I might have accidentally nuked them. Maybe I should have done that to Super Dick.
The problem was that I was a law abiding person. I didn’t cross against the light. I didn’t slide through a yellow. I didn’t cheat on my taxes, although the new punishing tax rate for vampires made that sound like something to consider.
You would think IRS would give us a lower rate, since we lived for a very long time and they would get their money every year. Nope, that’s not how it worked. We got a higher rate than the rest of the populace, the reasoning being that most vampires were wealthy. I wouldn’t call myself wealthy. I wasn’t remotely in Dan’s ballpark, for example, but it was true I had more money than when I was working.
I wondered how much they would tax me if they knew I was a goddess?
I wanted to get to my room, lock the door, and go to sleep for a few days. Right now that wasn’t looking like such a bad option.
The bells, whistles, and buttons of Arthur’s Folly were no longer a mystery to me. I didn’t have to wait until Dan led me through the corridors. I reached my room quickly, shut the door, and threw myself on the chaise.
About a half hour later, I heard a knock. I knew who it was and had even anticipated Dan’s arrival. He was one of those last word kind of guys. I knew he didn’t like the way I’d just marched off, so he was here to clear the air.
I really didn’t want to talk to him, but I opened the door anyway.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know how much you liked Charlie.”
I nodded again, practicing the inscrutable look.
My mother was a fugitive from the law, and even if I was feeling warm and fuzzy about her, she’d tried to kill me. My grandmother wasn’t going to embrace me with open arms, not with her sisters of the faith muttering dire imprecations and casting spells about me. Any friends I had, mostly from work, had melted away at sunrise like a sleepy vampire. The vampires I knew either hated me or betrayed me.
The closest I had to a friend was my dog and I’d been forced to surrender him.
I wasn’t feeling like being charming at the moment.
Dan reached for a tray he’d put on the table by the door.
“I have white chocolate cheesecake."
I could be had, but I wasn't that much of a slut for cheesecake.
“Or I can have the kitchen make anything you want."
I already knew that.
“Thank you,” I said, taking the tray from him.
Okay, maybe I was a slut for cheesecake.
“Did you ever get a chance to read what Madame X gave you?”
I nodded.
“Are you going to tell me?”
“No.”
He raised one eyebrow.
How weird was I? I could share my body with this man, but not my mind or ideas about my future. The reason were complex. I was feeling too much for Dan and it was making me vulnerable. Plus, I was beginning to understand that I needed to trust myself and my instincts.
I didn’t have anyone else.
“Okay,” he said. “Talk to you later.”
He studied me for another moment.
I pasted some kind of smile on my
face and kicked the door shut with my foot.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Dropping like flies
I felt the witches the moment I closed the door.
The vibrations hit me between my shoulder blades, traveled through my back to spear my heart. I turned, each slow movement an orchestra of muscle, blood, and bone.
At least I made it to the table beside the chaise and saved the cheesecake.
The air shimmered like heat off a desert road as I felt their power pushing. My chest shuddered as if a giant fist were pounding against me.
Well, hell, if this was going to be a fight, I was going to give as good as I got.
"Show yourself," I said, pushing the words past suddenly numb lips. "If you're brave enough to attack me, then be brave enough to show who you are."
There was more than one witch. Or if I was wrong and there was only one, she had more power than I’d ever encountered before.
I wasn't wrong, there were three, each of them appearing in the same gauze-like manner. What the hell? I was seeing a hologram of witches.
Where was their cauldron?
One of them had piercings, an eyebrow ring, a nose ring, and a little gold bauble on her cheek. I couldn’t see any tattoos, but I bet she had a few. One was as old as my mother, with brown hair framing a plump face. She had a pursed mouth that was no doubt more often arranged in a smile and sausage like fingers that probably doled out chocolate chip cookies like they were kisses. The third was tall and angular, like a Sycamore, her long twig-like fingers pointing in my direction. Her face was narrow, her bony nose flared in dislike and her thin lips curved downward.
Not exactly the Witch Welcome Wagon.
I knew they weren’t really there. I could see the chaise through them and the curtains open to the night.
"What do you want?" I asked. "Why are you here? For that matter, who are you?"
"We have come to warn you, Marcie Montgomery. Leave this place.”
