The Reluctant Goddess (The Montgomery Chronicles Book 2)

by Karen Ranney

  This was my moment of independence. Not standing in the chapel. Not walking away from the VRC, but now.

  The pain in my fingers was growing. I was filled with the most incredible euphoria. I felt radioactive and joyful at the same time.

  "I'm not going to let you get me pregnant. It's not going to happen."

  “I will raise you above all women," he said.

  His fangs had descended to the halfway point. What was he going to do, drain me dry? Take me into an examination room, place me on the table and put my feet in the stirrups before he had his way with me?

  Like that was going to happen.

  “Did you consult the good doctor?" I asked. "Did she tell you that I've had two miscarriages? I'm not a good breeder, Maddock."

  How much of that was natural and how much of it had been because of Nonnie’s interference?

  My fingertips were burning.

  I smiled, lifted my arms, and pointed my hands at him. He didn’t look worried. Didn’t he remember when he’d come to my window? Great. I was all for him feeling mellow at the moment. Or like a crispy critter.

  I felt my mind open and clear, as if a giant viaduct ran through my corpus callosum. This was getting easier. Practice made perfect.

  Emotions churned and boiled and festered and steamed, everything rising to the top. A fierce joy filled me as I released everything.

  Maddock slammed into the wall, chair and all.

  He struck so hard there was an H shaped indentation in the drywall where he hung for a moment before crashing to the floor.

  Fierce yellow light blinded me. The only thing I could see was the blackness around Maddock and his neck hanging at an odd angle.

  My ears popped. The sensation of power was overwhelming, sucking out the air in the room. I was glowing, my core a great hollow cave. I couldn’t think, could only feel. Vindication. Good over evil. Right against wrong.

  In those seconds I was an angel of retribution, wings aflame with the might of creation. I could have killed him and a small part of me urged his destruction. I wanted to feel the release from the pain and fear. I wanted the fierce surge of satisfaction of seeing him disintegrate before my eyes.

  Wind came from all four corners of the room, swirling around me. Papers and books became dust, clogging the air.

  I was fire and air, a mixture of nature and the passion of man.

  Maddock moved slowly, turning his head, his eyes glowing in the gray dust separating us. I felt his power push against mine and it made me smile.

  A voice, soft and calm in the midst of the maelstrom spoke to me, cautioned constraint, before I became simply another version of Maddock. I took a breath, the first since I’d released my anger, and closed my eyes, blocking out the sight of the destruction I’d created.

  Marcie.

  I heard him with my mind, not my ears. I blocked him in the next instant, turned, and reached for the door behind me, escaping from the evidence of my own power.

  I ran, racing through the serpentine hallways like a leaf in a gale. Propelled by fear, maybe magic, and certainly desperation, I headed for the reception area and Mike.

  No one was in the waiting room but Mike, standing like a totem with his back to the wall, arms folded over a massive chest.

  I’d never been so glad to see anyone in my life.

  “Run!”

  Never assume that Hollywood or even the publishing industry was right about vampires. Somebody had listed a bunch of things about vampires and everybody else just jumped on the bandwagon, when none of that crap is true. The one thing they’d gotten right was a vampire’s amazing powers of recuperation.

  Maddock was right behind me, looking spooky with the bone sticking out of his neck.

  He spread his arms wide, a gesture that should have looked ridiculous in his expensive Italian suit, but managed to look malevolent. He flew toward me, but he wasn’t aiming for me.

  Instead, he struck Mike.

  Maddock wasn’t wearing a cape, but I could swear I saw one. The air blurred as he folded himself over my bodyguard, a terrific feat since Mike was a big, burly guy.

  I screamed, a high pitched wail that sounded like a siren.

  Mike crumpled to the ground with Maddock still on him. The wall was suddenly sprayed with crimson streaks as Mike became a vampire’s early meal. I screamed again as I rushed Maddock, pounding on his back with my fists.

  I had no reserves left, so I couldn’t zap him, but I wasn’t just going to stand there and let him eat Mike.

  I’d never seen so much blood.

  In the next instant, the door opened. Charlie flew past me, a blur of beige fur and lips pulled back to reveal a mouthful of scary looking teeth. I thought he was surrounded by a blue cloud, an impression lasting only a second before it vanished.

  Maddock moved to backhand him, but Charlie had opened his mouth, latched onto Maddock’s forearm seconds before the vampire shook him free.

  The room was suddenly flooded with men dressed in black tactical armor. At least I thought that was what it was called. They didn't have SWAT emblazoned on their backs in white, but everything else was just like you might see in a riot, down to the helmets strapped to their chins and clear plastic shields over their faces.

  They weren’t carrying guns. Instead, each of them wore an emblem on their chest, one that reminded me of Nonnie’s pendant. Something else jogged my memory as they moved toward Maddock, sprinkling sparkling dust into a circle.

  I slid to the floor, not because I thought it was safer there, but because my knees would suddenly not support me.

  Charlie was suddenly at my side, his tongue bathing my cheek. I weakly wrapped my arm around his neck, gathering him close. I didn’t know who was protecting whom at this point.

  Maddock took two steps back from Mike, throwing his hands up in a gesture of surrender. The effect was marred by the blood dripping from his lips.

  I really wanted to zap him again, but I didn’t have the energy.

  Someone was pulling me up. I struggled for a moment until I realized it was Dan. He wrapped his arms around me as the men encircling Maddock began to chant. I thought the words were Latin, but they were spoken so softly that I couldn’t tell.

  The effect of all those scary dressed men, their eyes intent on the vampire, softly whispering what sounded like a curse was disconcerting and otherworldly.

  Janet Travis and a dozen or so other women filed into the room, going to Mike’s side. Moments later, he was whisked out the door and away.

  Please, God, let him be alive.

  I was trembling, which might've been a reaction from my zapping Maddock or it might be the pulsing rise of energy I felt in the room.

  Dan walked to the door, keeping himself between me and Maddock. I never wanted to see the master vampire again, but I knew that hope might be as futile as Mike’s survival.

  I operated on autopilot as he opened the car door for me. I sat in the passenger seat. Before he could close the door, Charlie jumped in, too, deciding that he was going to be a lapdog. He was about forty pounds heavier than he should have been for that role, but I wasn’t about to move him.

  “Does he need to be checked for rabies?” I asked when Dan got behind the wheel. “He bit Maddock.”

  Dan looked over at me. “We don’t even know Maddock has it.”

  “I hope he does. I really, really hope he does.”

  I was a goddess. Didn’t I have any power at all?

  For the first ten minutes, we didn’t speak. I was trying to find the energy to put myself back together. One thing about the pushy thing, it wiped me out. The more powerful I was, the more drained I became. Tonight, I’d let all the barricades down and given Maddock my best shot.

  “What was Charlie doing there?" I asked a few minutes later.

  "He saved you," he said, reaching out and petting Charlie’s head. “I couldn't reach you or Mike after my meeting, but I didn't think too much about it until Charlie started having a fit. At first,
I thought he saw a squirrel from one of the windows, but then he started circling me and nipping at my heels. I kind of got the idea you were in trouble."

  "A sort of Lassie, is Timmy stuck in the well thing?" I asked, stroking my chin over Charlie's ears.

  "Exactly."

  "You didn't see a blue cloud around him, did you?"

  He glanced at me. I could see his quizzical look in the dashboard lights, so I shrugged.

  “Never mind. It was just a weird thought.”

  "It's been the night for it," he said.

  "I think Maddock did something to my phone. I don't even know if that's possible. But I tried calling Mike and I tried calling you and it just kept going to voicemail."

  He shook his head, but I knew it wasn't because he doubted me. Rather, I bet he was going to check it out.

  As long as we were on the subject even tangentially, I told him what I’d been thinking about.

  “I once read that everybody's version of history begins with their birth. I think I’ve been making the same mistake.” I glanced at Dan. “Maddock is more than five hundred years old, but I'd be willing to bet that his experiment started around thirty-three years ago.”

  “Thirty-three?"

  I nodded.

  "Evidently, my father bragged about my birth. Maddock would want to duplicate his results, if not surpass them. I’d look for missing women in the Council’s jurisdiction, women who were related to witches, going back at least thirty years.”

  "That's what I was doing this afternoon," he said. "Meeting with the witches. Some of them, at least."

  "That's a good idea," I said. “Who better to know if someone with witch blood is missing but the witches? You’re a smart dude, Dan Travis.”

  “That’s only one reason I was meeting with them.”

  “What’s the other reason?”

  He glanced over at me. “You.”

  Oh, goodie.

  “What was that chant they were saying?" I asked, which was a masterful piece of obfuscation. I really didn’t want to talk about me right now.

  “A witch spell to imprison a vampire. The witches aren’t into killing, but they can contain for a while.”

  I thought about my stepfather. “Can they kill when they want to?”

  “Anyone can kill when they want to, Marcie.”

  I could. I could have killed Maddock. Was I going to lose my humanity with this goddess thing? Or was it all relative? Was God okay with one dead vampire, especially given what he wanted to do to me and other women?

  “What was the sparkly stuff?” Was he going to lie about that again?

  “Same thing,” he said. “It keeps a vampire restrained.”

  “You used it on Maddock,” I said, glancing at him.

  He nodded.

  “Can I get some? An emergency pouch just to have on hand?”

  “It wouldn’t work with you,” he said.

  No doubt because of that vampire/witch abhorrence thing going on.

  “Well, thank God for the witches," I said.

  "About that, Marcie -” he began.

  "I agree."

  He glanced at me, frowned, then turned his attention to the deserted country road. These two-way access roads were a drunk’s nightmare and a dangerous place to travel at night even for the sober.

  "Someone recommended that I align myself with the witches. A better tactic than being alone. Is that what you wanted to say?"

  "Yes, but who gave you that advice?"

  I rubbed my palm over Charlie's back. I think revealing all the secrets in my world could wait a day or two.

  “When?” I asked as we turned into the gates of Arthur’s Folly.

  "I'd like to do it tonight.”

  “I got that impression,” I said.

  Since there were at least thirty cars snugged up to each other along one side of the drive, it was easy to make that guess.

  “Do they use a spell to be able to parallel park?" I asked. "If so, do you think a non witch could use it? I suck at parallel parking."

  “You’re a Dirugu. You’ve got other talents.”

  I was a goddess and it was time Maddock damn well knew it.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  A Pow Wow of Witches

  Arthur’s Folly was lit up like Disneyland at night. The grounds were dotted with spotlights that illuminated the moat and the drawbridge. Even the towers were bright and white, revealing the black and red pennants flapping in the wind.

  All this display was probably for the witches.

  I’d always been impressed by the beauty of the castle. But knowing what I did about Dan’s grandfather now, I thought I should be looking for chained serfs around every corner.

  The founder of Cluckey’s Fried Chicken had been in the background of my life for as long as I could remember. Like the River Walk, the Tower of the Americas, Hemisfair Plaza, the Alamo, and other landmarks, Cluckey’s Fried Chicken was there and Arthur Peterson a San Antonian. Portly and genial, he was to Texas what Colonel Sanders was to Kentucky.

  From this point on, the white beard would mask an evil smile and the bushy white eyebrows eyes that narrowed in contempt.

  Arthur saw himself as developing a master race. He wasn’t the first one to have tried it. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for Dan. I knew what it was like to lug around thoughts of a relative who wasn’t, shall we say, respectable.

  I didn’t think prison was campy. I didn’t think prison life was admirable. Whenever they caught my mother and put her away for murder, I wasn’t going to visit her and I wouldn’t think she looked good in orange.

  None of which I said to Dan. If he had any profound thoughts at the moment, he wasn’t talking, either.

  We hit the elevator right after the parking garage.

  “Aren’t we going to check up on Mike?” I asked.

  It didn’t even occur to me that Mike would have been taken to a hospital. Why, when Arthur’s Folly was equipped to treat him, especially in this instance. He’d been savaged by a vampire. There was every chance that Mike and Kenisha would be the perfect couple, if you know what I mean.

  How would Dan feel about his number two becoming undead?

  He folded his arms and stared at the electronic panel.

  “After the meeting,” he said. “He’s stable right now.”

  He’d taken four calls in the drive back to the castle, not giving a flying fig about the new law that said only hands free devices could be used while driving. Hands free meant that anyone in the car could hear the conversation. Evidently, Dan didn’t want me to eavesdrop.

  I hadn’t led Mike into an ambush. I hadn’t expected to be betrayed again, but twice fooled, doubly shy. He didn’t want to tell me what was going on? Fine. I had some secrets of my own to hide, including the dog who was currently sitting on my feet.

  When the elevator stopped, Dan led the way. Charlie and I followed behind. The corridor lights had been dimmed for what seemed like atmosphere. The walls weren’t paneled or papered. Instead, they were brick, and the brick felt real to my fingertips. Even the flooring changed from a thick carpet to stone. The air smelled like mulled wine or something both alcoholic and sweet.

  I felt like we were walking back in time, which was probably why it was designed that way.

  I should have been prepared for the Knights of the Round Table room. After all, Arthur Peterson had gone to great pains to create a castle you might find in an upscale medieval life.

  Fourteen suits of shiny silver armor were arrayed along the circular wall, each of them positioned behind a throne like chair. Only one chair was empty of a guardian knight, and that's probably because it was larger and more commanding than the others.

  Above us was a chandelier equal in circumference to the polished table, its hundred or so flickering candles creating shadows that danced against the mullioned windows.

  Thirteen of the fifteen chairs were occupied.

  I'd once postulated that my grandmother was an important
figure among the witches. The fact that Nonnie was there was proof enough of that. Dan’s mother was there, too, only a few seats away from my grandmother. The rest of the women were strangers to me.

  Some were plump while others were thin. Some were young while others, like Nonnie, were advanced in years. A few were beautiful. One or two were ugly. Three or four of the women had great fashion sense, better than anything I possessed. The rest were more like me, wearing clothes that were functional and comfortable and possessing no designer label unless it was JC Penney or Walmart.

  The only thing all the witches had in common was the look in their eyes as I took a seat next to Dan’s commanding chair. Perhaps it wasn't hate, but it was equal measures of caution and fear. What did they think I would do to them in this room harking back to legends and lore?

  I wished the drapes had been shut. Even being on the third floor was no guarantee of safety against vampires. Perhaps the presence of so many witches would do what Dan security measures had not, keep Maddock away. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d managed to escape the containment spell leveled against him.

  Charlie moved below the table to sit on my feet again, either to protect me or to keep me from doing something stupid.

  I didn’t look in Dan’s direction. I wasn’t feeling all warm and fuzzy about him at the moment.

  “If you’re here,” I said to his mother, “who’s taking care of Mike?”

  “Our healers,” Nonnie said.

  So, witches had a SWAT team of healers. Good to know. Wish I could have had their help the night Doug bit me. But that wouldn’t have been according to Maddock’s plan, would it?

  Neither was what had happened this evening.

  “I didn’t expect him to be there,” I said, not waiting for Dan to call this meeting to order.

  He reached out and covered my hand with his. A silent rebuke and a request to shut the hell up, given in Dan’s usual polite manner.

  I met his eyes and nodded.

  I needed help from the witches. No doubt each one of these women represented a dozen more. Safety in numbers, plus all those women knew a spell or two. I could do with a few witches in high places. I never again wanted to feel as alone as I had felt trapped in Dr. Stallings’ office.