The Reluctant Goddess (The Montgomery Chronicles Book 2)

by Karen Ranney

  Okay, kennel it was.

  I thanked the young man, wondered what his politics were when it came to the dead/undead and watched as the two of them walked down the hall.

  When it was time to leave, Dan wasn’t available. So said a new and improved smiling Mike who was to be my driver/bodyguard to the doctor’s office. Since last night’s revelations, I wasn’t adverse to being protected.

  “He’s got an important meeting in Austin.”

  I stopped in the act of getting into the Mercedes, a much warmer car than the Jeep on this blustery and wintry day. I wanted to ask for details. Was it chicken business? Was he seeing representatives of the OTHER? Was it about his missing sister? Or Maddock? Was he taking the precaution of having someone with him?

  All questions I knew Mike wouldn’t answer, that’s why the words didn’t make it past the gate of my lips.

  I’d spent most of the morning re-reading every scrap of information the Librarian had given me, along with my own notes. I saw everything with a different perspective, one that led me to make the same conclusions my sleepy brain had deduced last night.

  I was the answer to an homogenized human.

  If the OTHER got what they wanted, did that mean we’d all have the ability to compel each other? Would we be like walking radios, each commanding another person until we were surrounded by white noise? I could imagine what walking down the street in New York would be like.

  Look at me! Look at me! Tell me I’m pretty!

  Leave that cab for me, idiot.

  You want to give me your money. Give me all your money.

  You’re hungry. Come sit in my restaurant. Buy the most expensive meal.

  What about zapping people? Would we all be given the power of concentrating emotion like I was able to do? Granted, I’d only used the ability a few times, but it seemed to have either anger or fear as a base.

  How would the police combat that? Forget any stop and frisk ability.

  He had his forefinger cocked at me, Judge, and he was scowling at me. She was definitely getting ready to zap me, officer. Her hand was pointed in my direction and she didn’t look happy, not happy at all.

  Extended life expectancy would put a crimp in the funeral industry. They’d have to branch out into other fields.

  The Worthington Funeral Home and Crematorium proudly announces that its venue is now available for weddings, graduation parties, and business conferences.

  But other industries could be born from the wreckage, I suppose. We’d have more extended generations, wouldn’t we? We’d know our great-great-great-great grandfathers. Maybe we’d have multi-generational housing, new ways of daycare. That is, if homogenized humans could produce offspring.

  They should have thought of all these things before just going willy nilly after someone like me.

  But was I the first, the only? The Librarian said that they’d never found another child of a vampire. Had they contacted Maddock? For that matter, had anyone contacted my father’s family?

  Could I have half-siblings somewhere?

  One thing I hadn’t thought of until this morning: group dynamics. A group often finds unity if every member of that group has a common enemy. A lot of times, in working environments, that’s the boss. Now it was me.

  The witches might meet with the other Brethren, groups that would ordinarily stay far away from each other, in a single concerted effort to end me.

  Oh, joy, I might not have just the OTHER and Maddock to worry about.

  The doctor’s office was crowded, just like before. Mike, however, didn’t have the amused acceptance Dan had shown. It was a little strange seeing such a big and tall man with the face of a warrior suddenly look a little green around the gills at the sight of so many pregnant women.

  There were no less than three signs on the walls reminding patients to turn off cell phones. I switched mine off and tucked it in my pocket.

  I expected the billing clerk to talk to me before my meeting with Dr. Stallings, but at the front desk I was directed to have a seat. That was code for: “We’ll call you when we feel like it.”

  I don’t think the practice of medicine has changed in the last fifty years in regard to waiting room procedures. I always had to wait an hour or more to see any doctor.

  Some of the chairs in Dr. Stallings’ waiting room were the roomy, comfy type. After all, when you’re pregnant, you’re bulging in odd spots. But a whole row of empty chairs against the wall were upholstered with a nubby green fabric that made me itch and wooden arms that made me wonder if I’d gained weight.

  Mike didn’t fit and finally gave up to stand against the far wall, his gaze fixed on a spot near the reception area window.

  I’d deliberately left the castle early, hoping to get to see Dr. Stallings before four. We arrived at three. At three forty five, I was starting to anxiously check my phone for the time. When I was finally called into the examination room, I went with a sigh of relief.

  What an idiot I can be sometimes.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Someone’s elevator doesn’t go to the penthouse

  The nurse was someone else I didn’t know, a middle aged woman with twinkling brown eyes and the kind of personality that had never met a stranger. By the time we got to the room, I found out that she was from Kansas, her husband was in the Air Force and stationed at Randolph, and San Antonio winters were much milder than what she was used to and wasn’t that nice?

  Instead of an examination room, she opened the door to what looked to be Dr. Stallings’ office. The desk took up most of the space and was overflowing with papers and books. Instead of a window, a mural of Florence was painted on the wall behind the desk.

  I'd been there once, on a tour of Italy. It was a beautiful city and I remembered buying a few leather notebooks there, seeing the statue of David and being awed by Michelangelo's talent even centuries later.

  The mural was a clue, but I didn’t see it then.

  On either side of the desk were tall bookshelves with the same overflowing clutter. I’d never thought of Dr. Stallings as a paperwork hoarder.

  Two chairs sat in front of the desk, facing a two foot tall plastic technicolor cross-section of female reproductive parts. I was a woman; I knew what I looked like. I couldn’t help but wonder what that diorama would have done to Mike.

  I’d never been in Dr. Stallings’ office before, not even for those awful appointments where I discovered that, yes, I had had a miscarriage. There is always hope, Marcie. You mustn’t be discouraged. This is just Nature’s way.

  I think I’ve heard every platitude. I’ve said them to friends who were undergoing similar heartbreak or even worse diagnoses. Today marked the end of platitudes, didn’t it?

  I sat on one of the chairs in front of the desk. The nurse, from whom I’d learned her life story but not her name, asked if I wanted something to drink. Another first, I’d never been offered refreshments before today. I guess when you’re getting ready to dispose of your plastic parts, it’s a momentous occasion.

  Thanking her, I refused, staring at the fallopian tubes and envisioning Dr. Stallings’ lecture to a confused husband. Did she help infertile couples? I didn’t know.

  Fifteen minutes later, the good doctor still hadn’t appeared. Nor had the helpful nurse. It was now after four and I was getting a little antsy. Call me paranoid. Or call me careful. All I knew was that it was getting later and I didn’t want to be out after dark.

  What was fear of the dark called? Was it brought about by fear of vampires? I was experiencing symptoms of it: a feeling of cold and dread added to nausea.

  As much as I wanted the operation, I was just going to have to make a morning appointment.

  I stood, looked over Dr. Stallings’ desk for a blank sheet of paper. All I saw was a prescription pad. I grabbed it and used the pen from her desk set to write a note explaining that I had to leave.

  The nausea got abruptly worse.

  Her name was imprinted on the top of
the pad, above Northside OBGYN Associates, PA, a MEDOC Company.

  I couldn’t breathe. Contrary to popular myth, vampires do breathe, except those who are undergoing a profound and life altering shock.

  I put the pad and pen down, grabbed my purse and headed for the door. When the doorknob didn’t turn, I wasn’t all that surprised. If anything, I was in a bubble of suspended animation. My brain was trucking along, thinking of possible better case scenarios. My body was frozen, one of those lizard brain responses to a charging mastodon and me without a spear.

  Dr. Stallings worked for Maddock. He probably bankrolled her practice. He probably knew every damn thing I’d told her, HIPAA be damned.

  If your boss was a vampire, you don’t tell him no. You don’t act all coy and say things like, “Sorry, boss, no can do. I can’t divulge what Marcie told me in the privacy of the exam room.”

  Crap on a cracker. I had to get out of here.

  I turned on my phone, dialed two, my speed dial number for Mike, but the phone rang three times before it went to voice mail.

  Please, don’t let him have turned his phone off.

  I dialed him again, but there was no answer. Only a canned response from a chipper female voice. I tried Dan, but he wasn't answering either.

  Was the damn phone working?

  According to the time and temperature given by Frost Bank, it was. The time, however, was now four thirty.

  To say I was panicking would be an understatement. I was encountering the flop sweat of the truly terrified and I've had some scary moments in the last few months. My underarms were wet and so was my waistband. Even the backs of my knees felt damp.

  I wasn't processing the feeling of betrayal yet. It was in the corner of my mind, placed there until I had time to think about it. Survival was tantamount right now. I scanned the walls, wondering why the hell I hadn't noticed the lack of windows before now. Evidently, Dr. Stallings met with her boss in this office. There wasn't an escape door other than the one I used to enter. No other way in or out.

  I dialed the reception area, but I wasn't surprised when it, too, went to a recording. Had they closed the practice and ushered all the pregnant women out with the explanation that the doctor had an emergency?

  What had happened to Mike?

  I’d envisioned being chained in a basement somewhere. I never considered that I would be held in the offices of my doctor. Did they have a room already cordoned off for me? Someplace where I could be anesthetized and implanted? Oh, hell, why spoil Maddock’s fun? Why not just let him rape me again?

  I picked up the phone on the desk, punched one of the buttons, but none of the lights lit up. They’d thought of everything.

  I wasn't as strong as some vampires. I'd never developed a physical strength, but I could use my fists on the door well enough. I shouted, transforming my fear into anger.

  No one came.

  My ability to compel humans wasn't all that strong, but I forced myself to sit and concentrate. I didn't know the woman's name who’d led me to this office, but she’d seemed a genuinely nice human being. I concentrated on her, focusing all my energies on her face, on her smile. Had she already left for the day? Could I force her to return? For that matter, if I did, would I be endangering her life?

  I couldn't make someone save me, if doing so might harm them.

  Closing my eyes again, I tried not to think about the passing seconds. Instead, I sent my thoughts to Mike, hoping against hope that I might be able to get through to him.

  Please.

  That's all I could think. I saw myself sitting here in this office. I saw my fear as if it were a palpable thing surrounding me. My desperation was almost physical as I called Dan and Mike over and over again. I needed someone strong to help me battle Niccolo Maddock.

  Some time later the door opened.

  I wanted it to be Dr. Stallings, explaining why she’d locked me in her office. But those were the thoughts of a hopeful woman.

  I was no longer Marcie Montgomery, the Pollyanna version.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  The best laid plans of vampires…

  When Maddock walked through the door, I sat down on the chair I'd vacated, looked up at him and smiled.

  Why the hell had I taken off the charm Nonnie had given me? Right at the moment I could use a few dozen witches, thanks very much.

  He wasn't foaming at the mouth yet. What a pity. And if his eyes glittered in a way that made the hair at the back of my neck stand up, that might just be victory, not rabies induced madness.

  "Are you trying to sire a child, Maddock? I mean, using someone else other than me?"

  He entered the room and closed the door softly behind him. He didn't bother with the lock.

  I think my question surprised him, but if he was discomfited by it, he hid it well. No, Maddock was as urbane and suave as always, wearing a half smile as though being undead amused him. Why shouldn't it? He was wealthy. He was powerful. He got most of what he wanted, whenever he decided he wanted it.

  He wore a dark blue suit, probably from an Italian designer since he, too was Italian. I didn't know how expensive bespoke suits could get, but I'll bet his were top-of-the-line. The jacket framed his shoulders, showed off his trim waist. He'd left it unbuttoned to reveal a snowy white shirt. No tie for Niccolo. Instead, the collar was open at the neck.

  "You're looking well, Marcie," he said. "I do hope you've had a chance to rest from your recent travail."

  "You didn't answer me. Are you trying to become a father?"

  His smile didn't dim, but it altered in character, almost as if he were humoring me.

  "I know you didn't like my father,” I continued. “You were jealous of him. I'd be willing to bet that if he could have sired a child, you think yourself equally capable. How many women have you attempted to impregnate? Or has Dr. Stallings automated the process?“

  I'd be willing to bet that Dr. Stallings had some vampire sperm on hand. I couldn't help but think of little wiggling spermatozoa with tiny little fangs. No self-respecting egg would stand a chance.

  "I was not jealous of your father. And is father the correct word? Perhaps sire would be better. Other than your creation, he had nothing to do with you and had little interest.”

  Perhaps that might've hurt someone else's feelings, but my mother, human that she was, had acted the same way. I had calluses on that part of my heart. Nothing Maddock could say could affect me.

  I held my phone in my right hand in my pocket and I was hitting redial repeatedly. The mind meld technique wasn't working and neither was AT&T at this moment. I was on my own.

  "Why be so dismissive of him?" I asked. "Isn't that exactly how you intend to treat your own offspring?"

  "Any child of mine would be treated like a prince or princess."

  "Oh, you mean when you weren't using him like a sippy cup?"

  "No harm will come to him."

  I put my finger on my chin, tilted my head a little, and smiled at him inanely.

  "Oh, gee, why shouldn't I take the word of a master vampire? Oh, perhaps because you are a master vampire?" I let the smile melt off my face, still staring up at him. "Do you seriously think I'm going to believe anything you say? Have you forgotten what happened at your house?"

  I wondered, later, if I said what I did simply to get his response.

  "That interlude? I will treasure it among my fondest memories," he said.

  I was transforming in front of him and the fool couldn't see it. I was dropping any resemblance to a humanoid and morphing into a geological phenomenon: Volcano Marcie.

  All the fear I'd felt since that night puddled in the deepest part of me. Added to it was the rage at being powerless. Layered on top of that was the humiliation and shame of being used with no more care than if I were a tissue. I let it burn, using unshed tears and unfulfilled wishes as the fuel.

  My hands warmed, my palms becoming so heated I wondered if they would catch on fire. I let go of the phone, placed b
oth hands on the arms of the chair to cool them off as I watched him come closer.

  On his order I’d been changed. By his word, my life had been altered. I would never again be human, but because of who I’d been before becoming a vampire, I would never be only a vampire, either. I was special, unique, wanted for what I could be, hated for that same reason.

  In his arrogance, Niccolo Maddock thought himself my equal. In terms of age, I was an embryo to him, but in terms of power I was the superior being.

  He sat in the chair beside me, only inches separating us. I stood, circled the chair, and walked to the door.

  "I am not allowing you to leave, Marcie," he said, his smile still firmly fixed.

  I had no intention of leaving, at least not yet. I just wanted to get as far away from him as I could. To do what I was going to do I needed space and room to maneuver.

  I slung my purse over my shoulder and neck, pushing it to my back. My arms felt on fire, but I still wasn't ready.

  "What do you want from me?" I asked. I probably surprised him with my answering smile. What startled me was the unworldly calm I felt.

  I wasn't afraid.

  I was looking into my own destruction, the same way I’d faced it in the chapel at the VRC. I'd been given a choice by a very naïve priest: choose an unknown eternity on faith or live forever as a creature of the undead. He hadn’t known, poor man, that that wasn't the true choice for me. No, my choice was to choose nothingness or an immortality as someone I couldn't imagine being.

  Whatever happened from this moment on, it would be of my choosing, just like that moment in the chapel. But this one wasn't influenced by fear.

  Whoever I was, whatever I was to become, I was still Marcie Montgomery. I deserved the chance to live and flourish without being scared out of my mind every minute of the day.

  I wanted to love. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to explore who I was without my existence being constantly challenged and confronted.