by Karen Ranney
Oh, great, now I had three witches gunning for me.
I took a step toward the intercom, feeling as if I were walking in cold molasses. They evidently didn’t want me to move.
Tough luck.
"Yeah, well, you gotta do better than that," I said. "What do you want? Why are you here? Yada yada yada."
"You are an aberration of nature,” said the one who looked like a tree.
"Like I haven't heard that before. If that's what you came to say, good. You said it, now you can leave."
I walked straight through the hologram, saw it waiver around me, expecting to feel like the witches had injured my soul. I didn't feel a thing.
I sat on the chaise, folded my arms and glared as the hologram reformed itself. I really wanted to mourn for a few hours while eating my cheesecake. The witches were screwing up my plans for the evening.
“Leave this place,” they all said in unison.
I was getting a little tired of being threatened.
"What day is it?” I glanced at the clock. “What time is it?"
They disappeared. One second they were there, the next they were gone.
I’d been right in thinking the witches a hologram. It was evidently not interactive.
Had my grandmother sent them?
When I called, she didn’t answer, but I wasn’t surprised. I had a feeling Nonnie knew when I was calling and it had nothing to do with Caller ID.
I stared where they’d been for almost ten minutes, but they didn’t come back. Finally, I sat on the chaise and ate my cheesecake while watching TV, wishing there was something on that would occupy me enough to take my mind off Charlie and my situation.
Nothing did.
I took a long hot bath, grateful the hologram didn’t magically appear in the bathroom. I don’t have exhibitionist tendencies. By the time I got out of the bathtub, I was waterlogged. I dried myself off and put on my bunny pajamas. They were blue with white and beige bunnies scampering all over them. I’d bought them at a low point in my life and wore them when I was feeling blue.
Tonight definitely qualified for bunny pajamas.
I walked back into the bedroom and sat on the chaise, feeling more down than I had in a very long time. I was in the middle of a vortex and I didn’t know what to do or how to make the world stop spinning.
I hadn't closed the drapes against the night and I sat there staring at the teardrop shaped lake. The gazebo floating in the middle of it was illuminated by deck lights and connected by a path lit by solar lights to the castle.
When I left Bill, I’d wanted more excitement in my life. Maybe that's why I dated Doug, the vampire. Not only because he was handsome and smelled deliciously of cloves and chocolate, but because dating a vampire was edgy, something I’d forbidden myself to do because of my mother’s addiction.
Now I had just about as much excitement as I could handle.
I hadn't yet turned on the light and the open Texas sky was a sparkling canvas. Stars in the thousands – or millions – winked back at me. Were there creatures like us on other planets? Not humans, perhaps, but beings gifted with talents we’d not yet plumbed?
I reached automatically for Charlie's head, to give him a pat, to scratch behind his ears. He wasn't there. I didn't hear any soft panting or loud snoring. He wasn't there to perfume the air and make me wonder what he’d had for dinner. Nor was he sitting in front of me, growling as if to warn the world that he was my protector.
Please, let him be all right.
Would God refuse a prayer from me simply because of what I was? Surely He would care about the fate of a loyal dog?
I was so depressed I could barely keep my head up.
I knew that the poor man in the car accident had died because of me. Maddock, or one of his minions, had probably compelled him to drive into me. I don't care if he was eighty or eighteen; he’d died before his time was naturally finished. I felt not only grief but a fair measure of guilt over Opie’s death. She’d never had a chance to try out her vampire wings, in a manner of speaking.
For the rest of my vampire existence, I would see people around me grow old and die or succumb to sickness, or be killed in accidents or be the prey of all the unknown Brethren out there. I would be one of the inviolate ones, the female standing as the world sighed its last gasp.
What a horrible future to contemplate.
If Charlie were here, I wouldn’t feel so lonely.
I hoped he was all right. I didn't like his owner and wished I could've done something other than what I did. Short of kidnapping the dog, I didn't know what else I could do. The man was a bully. I knew that even without proof and I don’t think bullies make good pet owners.
Death was a bully, too, preying on the weak and the defenseless, ignoring the strong. Or do people make themselves strong against Death? Do they simply ignore it and grow armor of sorts?
I couldn't totally ignore Death since I was one of the undead.
I needed to call the Librarian. I’d read everything she’d given me and now I had nothing but questions. And Mr. Brown. I’d tried his store a few times, but he never answered the phone.
Had the explosion in his store happened because of me? Had I endangered him, too? For that matter, was Dr. Stallings going to remain safe?
I felt responsible for protecting the mortals around me. No one had given me that task, but I felt it instinctively. A case of the strong protecting the weak again. Not only from Death, but from hurt, from pain, even from me.
How dangerous was I to other plain human beings?
I heard a sound, like the raking of nails against chalkboard, and looked toward the window. A shape, a black smudge like warming rubber, pressed itself against the glass. As I stared, it formed itself into a body. A figure clothed in evening attire, a full fanged smile directed at me.
Maddock.
I used to called him Il Duce, almost in fondness. An Italian Duke, I'd once considered him the equal of Machiavelli. He might even be Machiavelli five hundred some odd years later.
Now he stared at me, his eyes glowing. No doubt he was compelling me in some fashion. I stood, wondering why I wasn't afraid.
Instead, I was royally pissed. I’d had just about enough.
I stretched out one hand, noticed I was trembling and realized my mind and my body weren’t in sync. My body was probably terrified while my mind was eerily calm. I should be listening to my body.
I was two stories up and Maddock was plastered against the window like a suction cup. I wasn't the only one to whom the laws of nature didn't apply.
Come to me, Marcie. Come to me.
I walked slowly toward the window. I hadn't seen him since the car accident, but I’d anticipated him showing up. Every time it grew dark, I looked in the shadows for Maddock. Every time the sun set, I tensed inside, waiting for him to appear. Now here he was, handsome and magnetic, leering, excited, and supremely confident.
I reached the window and stretched out both trembling hands, my fingers splaying as they touched the glass. He moved his hands so that our fingers were mirrored with only the window between.
He didn't know what I knew, that my power now exceeded his. He could compel me until he foamed at the mouth, but I didn't have to obey him.
I closed my eyes, allowed the power to build in my chest and stomach until I imagined a white ball of energy, pulsing and heated. I allowed the anger, the tension, the despair, the grief, and the pain I was experiencing to flow through my arms and fingers until I felt the glass shiver.
His scream of rage filled my ears. I opened my eyes and he wasn't there. I don't know if he'd fallen or simply vanished in that way he had.
I grabbed the remote control from the table beside the chaise, pointed it at the curtains and watched as they closed on the night.
Very calmly, I walked over to the intercom and pushed the button for Dan.
“Maddock was just here. I thought you said the castle was a fang free zone. Present company excluded, of co
urse."
“I’ll be right there," he said.
I hung up, stared at the drapes and hoped Maddock had fallen flat on his ass.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Do you feel me?
Five minutes later, or maybe even not that long, there was a knock on the door. I opened it to admit Dan, Mike, and two other men, all of them armed.
Would a gun have any effect on Maddock?
“Where was he?” Dan asked.
“Clinging to the window.”
He should have been a comical sight. He’d been scary, instead.
While the rest of the men combed the suite, Dan turned to me.
“Grab your things,” he said. “You’re coming with me.”
I didn’t even think about protesting. I didn’t want to be alone in this room tonight. Not with witches and vampires and God knows what else.
I’d been inside five-star hotels before. I’d been pampered at a few luxury resorts. I'd even flown first class from Los Angeles to Hawaii once. I was purring by the time we landed. But I'd never seen anything like the room Dan led me to, not even in the pages of Architectural Digest and that was saying something.
If Arthur Peterson had demonstrated his fondness for medieval decoration in the Great Hall, it was nothing for what he’d done to this suite. I didn't have any doubt that Dan had moved in without changing a thing.
I walked some distance from the door, stopping in the middle of the room and folding my arms, taking in the sights around me. The walls were covered in crimson silk. A suit of medieval armor that looked like real silver polished to a sheen stood guard between the two high arched windows. The beams overhead gave me the impression of a soaring cathedral while the carpet of thick gray was patterned to resemble a stone floor.
The bed, the size of the California King times two, sat on a dais at one side of the room and was covered in a collection of gray animal pelts stitched together. Opposite it was a fireplace that might've come from any European castle. Two boars, nose to tail, could be roasted inside it.
I glanced at Dan who was standing beside the door watching me.
"Your grandfather certainly was a throwback."
"He probably thought he should live as a ruler, a king.”
I faced him. “How about you? You've always struck me as an egalitarian type. Live and let live, that sort of thing. Except when it comes to vampires."
A shadow flitted over his face. I had the strangest thought that a secret wanted to be told, as if secrets were sentient beings flitting over our heads. What did I know? The walls could talk and, after tonight, I wouldn't be surprised.
I walked to one of the windows looking out over Dan's kingdom. I dared myself to stand there despite the fact that Maddock could appear at any moment, playing suction cup toy once again. My nerves were shot. Instead of zapping him, I might just scream and run away.
Had Charlie protected me until tonight? I thought it funny that both Maddock and the witches showed up the first night Charlie wasn’t here.
Suddenly, I was exhausted. I wanted to sleep for days, either in the bed or under it. I needed time to reassess my circumstances, to recharge, and to assemble whatever resources I had to protect myself.
I glanced over my shoulder at him.
"I hope you’ll understand this, but I don't want to have sex with you."
First of all, I had left the diaphragm in my room. Secondly, I hadn’t practiced with it. Thirdly, and probably the most important, I was feeling vulnerable and needy. If the second session was as emotionally draining as the first time we’d had sex, I would be a basket case.
He didn't say a word, only nodded.
I’d expected a protest, something along the line of: we should take comfort from each other. That sort of thing. The fact that he didn't was a little disconcerting.
He pointed to an archway on the right side of the bed.
"The bathroom’s through there," he said.
I nodded, grabbed my bag, and walked down a short hall to the bathroom.
The tub was carved from beige and brown marble and took up at least eight feet. I didn’t know whether to call it a tub or a mini-swimming pool. Two blue crystal sinks with either brass or gold fittings sat on the same colored marble counter beneath a ten foot long mirror. The marble floor was warm and I wondered if the stone walls had heaters behind them as well. Although we didn’t freeze often in the Hill Country, this room would be toasty no matter how cold the winter.
I’d thought the shower in my room was a luxury, with its eight jets and speaker system. This one had at least twenty four jets, a pulsing spray, and a dome. I wasn’t all that keen about looking up at the night sky since my imagination plastered Maddock there, leering down at me. A good thing I’d already had a bath.
I stared at my reflection. I was pale, but other than that, I didn’t look like I’d been terrorized tonight. I finger combed my hair, wishing I hadn’t forgotten my brush. My hair was just going to have to stay a mess. Besides, if I came to bed all primped and perfumed, it would send exactly the wrong signal.
After washing my face and brushing my teeth, I got into Dan’s bed, grateful that he wasn’t there yet. I needed to give myself a stern talking to. However much I was attracted to Dan, however much I remembered that interlude in the gun range, I couldn’t afford to get even more involved with him. What felt good today might have repercussions tomorrow. Not the normal ones, either. I don’t think I had anything to worry about STD wise.
The emotional component was what bothered me.
I was growing too comfortable in my jail. I was looking forward to seeing my jailer. The world didn't seem right unless I had talked to Dan. I recognized the signs. I was getting mushy about him. I was daydreaming about him. I was sighing over him. Pretty soon, I'd start doodling hearts with his initials in mine.
I didn't fall in love often, but when I did I tended to go overboard. The essence of me, my personality, my goals, my wishes and ambitions suddenly vanished until I was nothing more than a husk, a shell whose only purpose was to sigh about a man. Thank heavens that stage only lasted for a few weeks before I became Marcie again.
I couldn't afford to lose me. Nor did I want to be giddy. I wanted to be practical, commonsensical, pragmatic to the nth degree. I wanted to bypass the insanity. I didn’t want to be adrift in life. I didn’t want to be a prisoner in a luxurious castle.
And I sure as hell didn’t want to be a goddess.
I fell asleep before Dan came to bed and dreamed of Easter Island sized statues, their elongated mouths open and screaming my name. I saw fiery pits, flames as high as a skyscraper. The fire didn't scare me since I walked through the yellow-orange conflagration, untouched. Mountains swelled around me and when I spoke, they crumbled into tall mounds of sand. I stretched out my hand, calmed the seas, and decimated whole forests with my frown.
Kings and power brokers sank to their knees before me, their voice quavering as they whispered my name. Sacraments were performed in my honor. I was given a gold throne perched on a tall, round dais above the throngs of worshippers.
I woke up to the delightful feeling of being totally warm and comfortable. Warmer than I usually was, as a matter of fact. Something hard and log-like was pressed against my bottom. Thank heavens I was wearing pajamas. They’re harder to remove than a nightgown. My virtue was intact thanks to a sheer layer of cotton bunnies.
Dan moved closer, an arm enfolding me. His breath was on my neck like a hungry vampire.
“Marcie.”
I had two choices, neither one of them all that fun. I could pretend to be asleep but I don’t think the log was going to care one way or another. Or I could get the hell out of Dan’s bed.
“What time is it?” I asked, opting for the safer recourse. I scooted away from him and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Six thirty or close enough.”
His hand rubbed up and down my back, the bunnies on my pajamas no match for his warmth. I really wish he’d stop touch
ing me, almost as much as I wished he’d never stop.
“I need to go somewhere,” I said.
“Where?”
“My grandmother’s house.” I glanced at him over my shoulder. “Maddock wasn’t the only one who made an appearance last night.”
“What you mean?”
He sat up, the sheet falling away from his bare chest. I really did want to see the rest of him. Naughty Marcie.
“I was visited by witches. A triumvirate, no less. It’s not the first time I’ve felt witches here, but it’s the first time they’ve made an appearance.”
His face froze; his eyes flattened. I had the feeling that this was the real Dan. Not the charming host or the semi-libidinous bed partner, but the man who was dangerous when threatened.
“I’ll drive you,” he said.
I didn’t expect anything different. Plus, I was tired of arguing.
“Okay, but not the Rolls or the Mercedes. How about the Jeep?”
He didn’t answer as he got out of bed and walked into the bathroom. As a consolation prize, I was given a view of a spectacular butt.
Lucky me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I wanted to bite the hand that scratched me
A norther had swept down into Texas overnight, bringing with it brisk winds and cold temperatures. Thanksgiving was just around the corner and the weather seemed to announce it in a Texas version of autumn.
Thanksgiving was not my favorite holiday. Neither was Christmas. I didn’t like the Norman Rockwell happy family idea of gatherings, only because my own family was so far removed from that image as to be laughable. Whenever we went to Nonnie’s house, my mother was petulant, her vampire husband was silent, and my grandmother did a lot of banging and clanking in the kitchen.
I knew why, now. She despised vampires, yet my mother dragged Paul over to Nonnie’s house on every occasion, almost like she dared her mother to say something.
Was my mother right? Had the witches killed Paul?
This year should prove to be interesting. My mother was on the lam. My grandmother was juggling a line between making her coven mad and acknowledging me. I didn’t have a home. No doubt Dan had some great celebration, complete with venomous mother. But would he this year, with his sister missing?
