Pranic, Pregnant, and Petrified (The Montgomery Chronicles Book 3)

by Karen Ranney

  "Tell her about being able to walk in the sun,” Opie said.

  "You can walk in the sun?" Kenisha asked.

  I nodded. "I've got a lot of powers," I said. "I suspect I haven't discovered all of them. But I know that I'm different enough that I might be able to save Mike. But there's something else you need to know."

  I’d wondered how much information was too much and I had a feeling that I was coming close to the edge with Kenisha. She was looking a little shell shocked.

  "I gave Niccolo Maddock an injection of the rabies virus," I said, forcing myself to keep looking at her.

  Only a twitch of a muscle above her eyes indicated that she had heard me or that she was surprised by my comment.

  "Why?”

  “Because I wanted him to die," I said.

  "You can't kill a master vampire like Maddock easily."

  "I know," I said. "That's why gave him the rabies virus. By the time he realized what was happening to him, it would've destroyed his brain.”

  Never say that Kenisha wasn't a smart cookie. She figured it out immediately.

  “Mike might have rabies."

  I nodded. “So, in addition to a transfusion from me, we need to treat Mike for rabies. I didn’t realize until this morning that vampires can carry diseases that don’t affect them.”

  Again, something I missed by not going to orientation.

  "What the hell did Maddock do to you?”

  I took a deep breath and said the words I hadn't said to anyone else. "He raped me, Kenisha. He drugged me and then he raped me."

  She was still staring at me but her face had altered subtly. I wondered if it was her cop face, or the beginnings of compassion.

  “Dan insisted that you had to approve the transfusion. I don’t know of any alternative, do you?”

  “He knows about you?” she asked.

  I nodded.

  “Does Mike know, too?”

  “Yes.”

  I didn’t know if that information was going to annoy her or prejudice her in some way against Mike. It might not have any effect at all. She might not care.

  “Before we do anything, though,” I said, coming to the nitty-gritty part. “You have to promise not to go to the Council or tell anyone what you know about me.”

  I couldn’t afford for Kenisha to go blabbing to anyone about who I was and what I could do. It was bad enough that Maddock, Eagle Lady, the Librarian, Dan, Mike, and a talking dog knew. The fewer people in the loop, the better for me and my baby.

  She remained silent for so long I was getting worried.

  Before I could figure out what to do, she nodded.

  “I promise. But you need to make sure the Council knows I didn’t turn Mike.”

  “Agreed,” I said.

  “What do we do now?” Opie asked. “Can’t you just bite Mike?”

  I’ve never bitten anyone and I really didn’t have the stomach for it now. I couldn’t see having to quash my gag reflex and swallow blood. Ugh.

  “No, we’re going to do it the medical way. First, I need to let the grand Poobah know that Kenisha has agreed. That will start the ball rolling.”

  I hadn’t been able to find my phone, so I had to use the intercom to let Dan know that Kenisha had agreed. One thing I can say about Dan. The man had organizational ability. I don’t know if it was something that came natural to him or something he learned in the Rangers, but he could command movement.

  Within a half hour I was on an exam table with my arm on a board. I was staring up at the ceiling, trying not to look at the blood in the tubing. I guess I had expected that I would be in Mike’s room doing this person-to-person, but instead my blood was piped into a bag and would be transfused to him within minutes. After that, time was what we needed. Unfortunately, time was not on Mike’s side.

  It struck me as I was lying there that there was another advantage to giving my blood to Mike, other than saving his life. I didn't doubt he would become a vampire. But he might obtain some of my powers. Time would tell if he would be able to walk in the sun or eat food other than blood, or if he became Marcie II, in a manner of speaking. If he did, there would be two of us. The world wouldn’t be looking for just me. Of course, by doubling my chances for survival I also put Mike in danger. I had to let him know everything that was facing him. That is, if he survived.

  If he did obtain my abilities, it would only be a matter of time until Kenisha wanted to be like him.

  That’s how it started, didn’t it? All revolutions started with one person, one thought pattern, one idea. It caught fire and multiplied a thousand times.

  The more I tried to do the right thing, the more complicated I made my life. But humans, and humans turned vampires, are messy creatures. We don’t live calm and orderly lives. After the last few months I doubted I could go back to being the person I had been. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. Looking back on that Marcie, I could only pity her. She was living a life without much happiness, strung out by goals and accomplishments that, in the end, didn’t really matter a whole bunch. She didn’t love to the extent she could have, including herself.

  Now I felt as if I were living to my full potential. Never mind that I was confused most of the time. I was feeling emotions I hadn’t felt in a great many years, if ever. I was awake when I had been asleep for a very long time.

  I won’t say I was courageous, but I was willing to be braver. Maybe it was because I knew I couldn’t die, at least not easily. Maybe some of it was because I knew I was different, not only from myself but from other people.

  Dr. Fernandez’s words called me back to the present.

  “That’ll do it,” he said. “I’d like you to lay here for a little while and rest.”

  “You’ll give Mike the rabies vaccine, too?”

  He nodded, but he didn’t look at me. He had been carefully avoiding my glance ever since he and Dan talked. Evidently, I’d been outed to the castle’s physician.

  “I wouldn’t hold out much hope, Ms. Montgomery.”

  I turned my head and stared at his back.

  “You don’t think he’s going to make it.”

  He raised his head. Since he still hadn’t turned I could only guess that he was staring at the far wall. Maybe he had his eyes closed. Maybe he was looking up at the ceiling. Hell, for all I knew, he was rolling his eyes or making faces.

  “I don’t know all that much about vampirism, Ms. Montgomery. I do know that if he hadn’t been as healthy as he was, he would have died in the first hour.”

  “Maybe he’ll fool you,” I said. Or my blood would.

  He didn’t answer, only left the room.

  I was a good little patient for fifteen minutes. Not because of what the doctor said. I wanted to make sure that I was feeling okay for the baby’s sake before I stood up. Finally, I made it to the door, but instead of heading for the elevator, I went into Mike’s room.

  I read this saying once, on one of those feel-good posters that are supposed to motivate you. It said: we pay attention to what we love. Frankly, I thought that was a load of crap. People pay attention to what irritates them. Sometimes, we don’t even notice the people we love until it's too late.

  I couldn’t help but wonder if it was too late for Mike.

  Kenisha was sitting at the side of the hospital bed, her feet flat on the floor, her shoulders straight, her hands clasped on her lap. She was watching Mike the way a supplicant stares at an altar, waiting for proof that God heard, that miracles were possible.

  She glanced at me when I opened the door and slid inside. Vampires don't get that red eyed look from being hungry. She had been crying again.

  Vampires are supposed to be hypochondriacs, but either that didn’t apply to Kenisha or she was fighting it to be able to stay with Mike.

  I stood there for a few minutes in the silence, watching as the blood - my blood - dripped down into his arm. I don’t know if God was accustomed to getting prayers from goddesses, but I didn’t think it would
hurt to add one to the mix. I left after that, giving Kenisha privacy.

  I made it back to my room, feeling a little wobbly. And hungry. My appetite had returned with a vengeance and I was craving anything at this point. I was going to order a tuna sandwich and some chicken noodle soup. Comfort foods again, but I needed them, both emotionally and physically.

  The minute I closed the door I knew something was different. The room felt odd, but I couldn't figure out what it was.

  I stood in the middle of the room, in the exact same place I’d been when the witches first called to me. I half expected a hologram to appear, but nothing did. I closed my eyes, lifted my arms slightly and turned my palms up. The pose was an automatic one and I could see how I must've looked to someone else. Strange, though, my internal vision had me glowing a little. Not the healthy glow of a pregnant woman, but more of a golden aura surrounding my entire body and joined at my feet.

  I looked like a saint in an illustrated manuscript. Either that, or a shampoo commercial.

  To my surprise, the aura was malleable. If I thought ahead a few feet, it stretched that way. I tried sending it left, then right, playing with it. I didn’t open my eyes, but I did begin to smile, wondering if what I was seeing in my mind’s eye was real or just imagination. Too bad I hadn’t done this glowy thing in front of a mirror.

  Well, I’d wanted to see what else I could do. Was this part of the zappy thing or totally separate from it? I didn’t want to hurt anyone, I just wanted to protect myself. The golden aura was like a force field.

  I sent the glow across the carpet until it pressed up against the walls, filling up the entire room. Nobody was here but me. I couldn't sense another consciousness. I couldn't feel anyone else's spirit.

  But someone had been here.

  Who?

  One of the laundry fairies?

  I opened my eyes and looked around, but I couldn't see that anything was out of place. Something was missing, though, and it took me a minute to figure out what.

  I knew I’d put the Kindle on the table by the chaise, but it wasn’t there now. I’d been sitting here earlier and tried to read. I walked to the other side of the room, between the window and the chaise, but it hadn’t fallen to the floor. I even bent over and looked under the furniture, but it wasn’t there, either. Maybe I’d put it in the bathroom. I walked in there, but no Kindle.

  That was just annoying. First my phone and now my Kindle.

  Who the hell steals a Kindle? A literate burglar? Was one of Dan’s staff a thief? Should I say something or keep silent?

  I sat on the chaise, missing Charlie. Opie had wanted to sit vigil with Kenisha and who could argue with that? Hopefully, the transfusion would work. Hopefully, Mike would live. Hopefully, Kenisha wouldn’t say anything to the Council.

  Lots of my future rested on hope and that wasn’t a good place to be. I wanted certainties. I was a woman of spreadsheets and facts and hope was too tenuous and too uncertain.

  I didn’t bother making a list. I knew what I had to do. Protect my child, take the witch test, and save mankind.

  Nope, hope had nothing to do with it.

  Chapter Eleven

  Let The Tests Begin

  I didn’t wake until ten. Nothing had changed, except that I was sick as a dog, if you'll pardon the expression, followed by a hunger so acute I thought I was starving to death. My stomach was glued to my backbone and I was nearly faint. If I didn't get a dozen pancakes or waffles inside me, I was going to die. Cereal wasn't going to do it. Neither was a donut or two and don't get me started on oatmeal. I liked oatmeal if it had enough milk, sugar, and butter in it, but if it was plain, no thanks. If you really hated me, you would give me plain cream of wheat, salted.

  Just the thought of that made me run to the bathroom again.

  Because I felt so awful, I thought it would have been perfectly within my rights to stay in my room, order breakfast, and have a grand old pity party. The world was against me, boo hoo. Maybe that was true, but I’d never known a circumstance that was made better by whining about it. I got over myself long enough to order tea and crackers.

  Let someone in the kitchen put two and two together, I didn’t care.

  The intercom buzzed while I was waiting.

  I pushed the button and Dan’s voice filled the room.

  “Why aren’t you answering your phone?” he asked.

  “I can’t find it,” I said, a little annoyed by having to admit it. I sounded like a kid who had to have her mittens pinned to her coat sleeve.

  “I sent you a text. The witch test is at one in the ballroom.”

  Of course Arthur’s Folly had a ballroom. Didn’t everyone?

  “I’ll be there.”

  The young woman who brought my tray asked if I needed anything else. Answers, please, but she couldn’t bring those up from the kitchen.

  “No, thank you,” I said, and closed the door behind her.

  After I had wolfed down the crackers and sipped my herbal tea, I watched TV for a little while, finding myself entranced by a show that offered to tell a woman who had fathered her child. I imagined getting Dan’s DNA would be easy enough. How would they test my unborn child, however?

  I took another nap. One of the things about pregnancy: I was always tired.

  A few hours later, I took a shower, went to the vanity and began to put on makeup, just enough that I felt more myself. Mascara, mineral foundation, and lipstick - nothing fancy. I opened the drawer to get my brush, but it wasn’t there. Oh, come on now. I knew I hadn’t moved my brush. I didn’t trot through the castle with my full armament of grooming essentials. I wasn’t like a friend of mine who carried around a selection of brushes, combs, a mini can of hair spray and a touchup comb in case a stray gray hair liberated itself from the masses. But Vickie also carried a toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, tweezers, and two kinds of nail files.

  I wasn’t Vickie.

  Who the hell was stealing my stuff? Was someone trying to get my DNA? Or was someone just light fingered? The surge of irritation I felt was welcome.

  I finger brushed my hair, did another inspection of me - especially of the tummy region - to make sure I wasn’t looking pregnant. I knew it was much too soon, but with my goddess metabolism, who knew what was normal for me? I had a feeling that word should be banished from my vocabulary.

  I pushed the intercom and asked for directions to the ballroom. I declined the offer of a guide. I wasn’t yet infirm and I felt safe in the castle. Relatively safe, given that someone was stealing my stuff.

  As I walked toward the elevators, I thought about the upcoming test. According to my grandmother, a tendency toward witchcraft was inherited. Some witch progeny had it. Some didn’t. My mother didn’t. Neither did Dan. Would my child, if Dan was his father, have a witchy ability? When did it begin? From the womb or later, such as when he was a toddler? Or not until the teenage years? I would have to ask someone and that posed another problem. Who? Was there a Nurse Hotline for witches? Would they be any more amenable to answering questions then the vampire nurse had been?

  I doubted it.

  If I were talking to my mother, I would ask her what kind of test she had to undergo. The problem was she’d escaped from custody. According to Kenisha, my mother had joined a fundamentalist sect, one of those We Hate the World groups that pop up from time to time. In this case, they weren’t all that fond of vampires. Their group’s name was The Militia of God. It didn’t seem fair to put the God label on something that was filled with hate.

  As a source of information, my mother was lost to me. I had a feeling, however, that she would pop up with The Militia of God group in tow one day. I could wait a few more years for a reunion with dear old mom.

  What did the Militia think about the OTHER?

  The OTHER’s mission was to make sure everybody was just one happy family. That every person was alike. Sort of like political correctness taken to the nth degree. They wanted everyone to be able work spells like witche
s. Everyone would live for very long time like vampires. Everybody could procreate, walk in the sun, and eat burritos like human beings.

  I doubt if a humans only group would go along with what the OTHER proposed. That was fine with me. The more diversity, the better. I didn’t want us all to be just like each other.

  The great thing about human beings was that there were so many kinds of them. I didn’t think vampires were all that different. Were witches? How did someone become adept at working magic?

  BF - Before Fangdom - I’d never considered that magic might be working all around me. Did I see Nonnie’s house as it really was or how she wanted me to see it? For that matter, did she really look like a sweet little blue eyed grandmother or something completely different? I’d seen the power of magic with the destruction of Hermonious Brown’s bookstore. I’d felt that surge of energy when the witches had come after me. I suspected that I needed to know more about magic. I was also absolutely blind when it came to the rest of the Brethren.

  I needed to learn, fast.

  I took the elevator to the third floor, turned right like I’d been told and followed a long corridor. As I was walking, it occurred to me that my zapping power might well be something I could have inherited. Granted, it was different from what I’d felt that first time I’d gone to Nonnie’s house after being turned, but it was similar.

  Was it a witchy power? Or something reserved for a Dirugu, a special Pranic vampire like I was supposed to be, so special I’d been labeled goddess. A little ludicrous, frankly, because I’m so far from a goddess it’s laughable.

  What if I did have witchy powers? What did that mean? What would it mean to the witches, especially?

  I wanted to go check on Mike, but I’d left it too long. Maybe because I was procrastinating. Let’s face it, I didn't want to attend the witch test. When I hit the ballroom entrance I almost turned around and walked away. I might be physically cautious, but I wasn’t a moral coward, so I forced myself to go inside.

  I shouldn’t have been surprised at the size of the room, given the dimensions of the castle itself. Everything was oversized, just a bit more than it needed to be. Arthur Peterson had created his own little fiefdom here at Arthur’s Folly. His millions - or billions - had made it possible for him to create what was, essentially, his own town. The inhabitants were no doubt well-paid, just as the craftsman of the ballroom probably had been.