To Date A Disaster (Southern Sanctuary - book 6)

by Jane Cousins

  No… she pushed back a lock of frizzy hair that had escaped her braid, her hand trembling, she had landed on a beanbag… it was a miracle. She had landed on a beanbag! Oh, thank God.

  She waved a hand in front of her face, her nose wrinkling at the smell of smoke and burnt carpet… or was that the smell of burnt shag-pile hair piece rug carpeting? Huh, she had survived. It was truly a miracle…. Again! Someone up there both really hated and really loved her.

  Through the thickening haze several hulking figures detached from the smoke, approaching her slowly, cautiously. What the… she fumbled on her face and found her glasses. Of course they had snapped in two… they never survived, nor it seems had her skirt, she could see an awful lot of thigh on display as she bought up one lens to peer through it.

  Heavens, who were these men? There were seven of them, all dressed identically in khaki trousers, matching t-shirts and shit kicker boots. They were all tall… incredibly tall, and they were all staring down at her intently.

  Oh God. What did they want? Who were they? Were they one of the mystery groups her paranoia insisted were chasing her? Cara’s breathing began to grow rapid and shallow, her eyesight blurring slightly at the edges whilst hot and cold shivers racked her frame. Oh, no, not again.

  The closest man, the tallest of them all with fine white blonde over-long hair and gold intent eyes bent over her. “Are you alright?”

  Gulp, what she wouldn’t give for a paper bag to breathe into right at this moment.

  He was too tall, they were all too tall. Looming around her, over her. Staring down at her. They wanted something from her, she just knew it. Merda, she felt the hot molten ball at her core begin to expand and she said the only thing she could think of to save them.

  “Run.”

  Chapter One

  Cara sank down on top of her suitcase, dropping her handbag to the floor, the sound of it hitting the wood floor echoing up and down the long empty hallway. Wrapping her arms around her upper body, she rocked gently in place, slowly breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth.

  As an added precaution she decided to count backwards from a hundred. Then considered the last thirty-six hours of her life and everything she’d learnt and decided to raise that number to a much more sensible one thousand, just to be on the safe side.

  Had it only been thirty-six hours since the incident in the library? It seemed like forever ago now. It was all so crazy… impossible.

  A series of flashbacks clicked through her head.

  The smoke haze dissipating but the library fire alarms continuing to blare loudly, battering her eardrums. The massive blonde intimidating man, dressed like a soldier, swooping her up high into his arms, carrying her from the library. The large man’s large associates clearing the library of any loitering patrons. The paramedics carrying out a weeping Meggans strapped to a gurney, his mongoose hair piece still smouldering. With those nasty burns she doubted he’d ever be able to wear a hair piece again.

  Out in the car park, the large faceless crowd milling about added to her rising distress levels, already dangerously high thanks to the feeling of being trapped and hemmed in by seven strange men, dressed in fatigues, whose sheer size made her stomach churn.

  The ball of hot anxiety pulsing and expanding in her chest as she frantically tried to come up with a plan to escape their clutches. They were too close, too big, she couldn’t breathe. Oh no, no… No!

  The fire truck screeching to a halt in front of the library skidded on an unexpected puddle of grease. Hitting the kerb it bumped the gurney Meggans was strapped to, sending him cannoning down the street, screaming and crying.

  The fire truck continued to skid across the kerb, a power pole snapping, several parked cars squashed flat as a result. People running and screaming in all directions… sheer chaos.

  Still the seven large lurkers didn’t move a muscle from the protective circle they had taken up around Cara. She watched as the paramedics reclaimed Meggans, the man scared out of his wits but perfectly fine, if one discounted the still smouldering hair piece that the medical team on site appeared to be having great difficulty in leveraging from his scalp. Even in obvious pain, Reginald Meggans protested loudly that it was real hair on his head and kept trying to bat away their hands.

  There had followed a brief, too fast, car ride, a very weird moment when they’d entered an official looking building but instead of heading into an office they’d squeezed into a janitor’s closet. Her broken glasses had been jostled at one point, next thing she knew they were in someone’s apartment, then a hallway, an elevator and finally a large executive conference room decorated a-la serial killer chic. She’d never seen so many sharp weapons in one place outside of a museum. Chilling.

  Basically, she’d been kidnapped by seven experimental super-soldiers… no, she had to stop thinking of them like that. They were warriors, the Goddess Maat’s elite warriors. Oh heavens above… Gods and Goddesses existed! Even more surreal she discovered she was the descendant of one of them, the God of Chaos, Apep.

  Damn, she’d come to the slow but sure conclusion over the last eighteen months that she was a complete and utter disaster magnet but still, it was a kick in the teeth to be told that was in fact a reality. That chaos literally ran in her veins.

  She’d tried her best to warn them, the seemingly nice but still scary super soldiers to keep their distance. That no matter how many times they assured her she was safe, she didn’t feel safe… they were too big, too intimidating… too everything. Of course what came next was all too familiar to her… she had tried to warn them, several times.

  More yelling, more smoke, blood… seriously, who in their right mind decorates a conference room with a wall of wickedly sharp blades and doesn’t double check that they are all securely attached to the wall?

  She’d panicked at the sight of blood, her heart racing, her breath coming in uncontrollable pants. Oh no, no, no, no! More yelling, more blood… chaos, absolute chaos.

  Next, in an attempt to reassure and calm her, they’d sent in a woman. Which would have been a smart idea, except the woman, who introduced herself as Hadleigh, was all too clearly the female version of the super-soldier project; too tall, too intimidating. The nail in the coffin though was those cold clear grey eyes which instantly made Cara hyperventilate… more blood, cursing and yelling followed.

  Then came Doctor Nell Montgomery, sweet, lovely, normal-sized Nell. Who’d spoken soothingly and hadn’t laughed in Cara’s face when she accused her of being an evil mad genius doctor who was creating a race of super-soldiers.

  In fact, if anything, Nell had acted a little chuffed at the idea that anyone could mistake her for an evil mad genius doctor with plans to take over the world. It had made Cara instantly trust and like her, believing Nell when she told her she was just a simple healer, here to help her, here to explain what was going on in her life. Informing Cara that it really was the truth, she was a descendant of Apep, the God of Chaos. That his sons, Sek and Mot, her Great-Great-throw in a lot more Great – Uncles wanted her blood for a special ritual to awaken their father from stasis. Most significantly, the two demi gods didn’t just want a little bit of her blood, they wanted it all.

  Nell had done her level best, trying to convince Cara she would be safe if she stayed at Maat Towers which was apparently located in Atlanta, but every time Cara saw one of those hulking, walking, killing-machines… warriors, every time she saw one of the warriors, she couldn’t seem to catch her breath, her vision began to blur and grey at the edges and then… well, disaster city.

  Nell hadn’t wanted to believe her but the evidence was pretty damning – she only had to look at the eight bruised and bloodied warriors. Cara had been in their company a short time but they were quickly starting to look like extras in a war movie, the kind who played anonymous wounded soldiers, bloodied, missing body parts, in desperate need of medical attention.

  Unsurprisingly, they didn’t really start to take her seriou
sly until she mentioned the possibility of sink-holes. Then suddenly she was being told about a place called the Southern Sanctuary, located across the other side of the world in Queensland, Australia. They talked up the beaches, the friendly people, told her she would have a place to live, a job at the local library. That she would be safe from Sek and Mot there… and hopefully the insurance investigators hot on her trail.

  It sounded too good to be true. But what else could she do? It would be a sucker bet to assume she’d lost her job at the Naples Library in Florida and she doubted very much that Patience Meggans would be willing to provide her with a reference. And less she forget the piece de resistance, one of the cars the power pole had pulverised outside of the Naples library had of course been her faithful ten year old Volvo. Because that, it seems, was the way her luck was going to roll now that she was officially designated the Queen of Chaos.

  All hail her majesty.

  Cara found herself chuckling softly under her breath. Thank God she could still laugh at herself, it was about the only thing keeping her sane right at this minute. Absently she looked at her watch and shot straight to her feet, damn, she was going to be late for her interview if she didn’t hurry. First impressions were very important; being late would be ill advised. It was bad enough she had sticky tape keeping her broken glasses together.

  Cara had been the one to insist upon being interviewed. Librarians were a notoriously territorial bunch; no way did she want to get on anyone’s bad side, intrude where she was neither wanted nor needed. Flipping up the handle of her battered suitcase, Cara studied the crumpled bit of paper containing directions in her hand. Squaring her shoulders she marched off down the hallway, past the door with the gold lettering marked ‘Special Council Liaison Office’ that she had been told, at least ten times, if not more, that whatever happened, she was not to enter.

  Though who could be scarier than eight mountain-sized warriors with muscles on top of their muscles she hated to think. A question which thankfully she didn’t have the time to dwell on, she had a job interview to get to. One she was feeling quite hopeful about, no one did dowdy, unassuming, yet eager and can-do like Cara Devigne… and hey, added bonus for this interview, she could actually use her own name.

  Things were finally starting to look up.

  Chapter Two

  Ugh, Cara rubbed her chest anxiously, trying to dispel the lava ball of anxiety that was beginning to form there.

  Haven Bay was giving her the creeps. Full of strange people who kept smiling and waving at her. After eighteen months of doing her best to be anonymous, this reaction to her presence was making her rather anxious, which was not good as anxiety historically led down the path to mayhem and catastrophe.

  Oh, why couldn’t these people… these incredibly, disturbingly, good looking people, ignore her? In her dark grey long skirt, sensible pumps, buttoned-up blouse and five-year old light grey cardigan she was hardly deserving of all this attention. She blended in, she knew she did. She’d spent eighteen months perfecting the art form. But as she walked down the main boulevard of shops, pulling her suitcase along behind her, she rather felt like the princess on top of the parade float.

  And talk about news travelling fast. Cara had only finished her job interview and officially accepted the role five minutes ago and already strangers, friendly… but strangers nevertheless, were calling out their congratulations. Talk about a speed of light grapevine.

  Cara attempted to draw in another slow deep calming breath. Ugh, nothing about this beachside town was making any sense. The library for one thing, located on the fourth - upper most - floor of the imposing gothic Council building, was in one word… magnificent. With incredibly high ceilings, gleaming mahogany bookcases, impressive high tech research facilities and the space… the space was just mind-blowing. From the incredibly large reception desk area that you first entered, to the central light filled domed area situated behind it, with its gorgeous mosaic tiled floors, six intricate stone columns, lush potted ferns, fantastical alfresco murals on the walls, ornate domed ceiling and the six massive arched doorways leading off to carefully divided sections of the library.

  The central domed area was a gorgeous space, perfect for quiet contemplation or for reading a book or newspaper at one of the small tables placed around the circular room. Free hot beverages were available from a drinks station decorated to look like an old-fashioned Italian street vendor’s cart. Sitting there, sipping a cappuccino and having her interview with Patricia Bennett had been both relaxing and a little bit awe-inspiring.

  If the world class library with way too many books that looked as if they belonged locked behind glass in a museum was a surprise, then Patricia Bennett, head librarian, came as a complete shock. Cara, from past experience, had been expecting someone prim, proper, serious and potentially humourless. What she got was an elegant, tall, though not super-soldier tall, lean woman who looked as if she’d just recently retired as a Parisian model. She had rich sable coloured hair that she swept back from her finely boned triangular face, stunning wide hazel eyes, warm skin tones and a ready smile. The woman barely looked a day over forty but as they talked Cara had done the maths and realised Patricia had to be fifty plus. Wow, maybe one day she’d get up the nerve to ask her what brand of face cream she used.

  Dressed in a cowl necked coffee coloured sweater, cream pleated pants, elegant sandals and an eye-catching large art deco piece of topaz jewellery around her throat, Patricia was the epitome of chic sophistication. Such a marked contrast to her own spinster dowdy outfit that it had her wishing she’d worn something different, though who was she kidding, her entire suitcase was full of dowdy practical skirts and blouses. Nothing she owned in her suitcase could come close to competing with Patricia’s elegant visage.

  Besides, what she wore would be unimportant, it was the job that mattered and the dream job Patricia described was going to be challenging and fun. When was the last time she’d had any fun? As the new children’s librarian for the Southern Sanctuary District Main library her role would be to decorate and stock the area designated for young readers that was currently in the midst of a complete renovation.

  Patricia warned her that whilst there were only a handful of children currently living locally, the council city planner had recently advised of an imminent baby boom that had necessitated the re-vamping of the old-fashioned, woefully out of date, youth area of the library.

  What could Cara say but, challenge accepted.

  But now she was starting to question whether she’d made the right decision. The picturesque beachside ‘almost too good to be true’ community was giving her the willies. For pity-sake, the section of shops she was now walking past reminded her all too vividly of New Orleans, with quaint balconies overhead, wrought iron decorations and hanging plants. Except the street was much wider and she could hear the sound of breaking waves on the nearby beach. It was just too perfect.

  Then there were the overly friendly locals. A rather startling percentage of whom were wearing swords or some sharp implement strapped to their body. Wouldn’t she be better off high-tailing it out of town before she accidentally hurt someone or set fire to something? She had all of Australia to get lost in. A fresh start. The insurance investigators would never think to look for her here, nor was she considered a wanted felon by the local police… that just left the mysterious Sek and Mot. Who, according to Maat’s warriors, wanted to drain her lifeblood from her body… hmm, on second thoughts, maybe she’d just grin and bear it.

  She could do this, maybe take up yoga, find an isolated little house to live in and become a hermit, only venturing out to work at the library, a solid plan indeed. First things first, she glanced down at the address on the paper in her hand, she just needed to locate her temporary accommodation.

  Darn, she’d gotten turned around. Gripping her suitcase tighter she swivelled and then stopped with a gasp. Five older ladies were bearing down on her, broad welcoming smiles on their faces as they env
eloped her in a cloud of clashing perfumes. Each one was chatting a mile a minute, Cara was completely discombobulated for a moment.

  “Darling girl, congratulations on the new job. “ An older lady dressed all in white with dramatically swept back grey hair announced loudly.

  “Is it true what their saying about Maat’s warriors?” Her companion, a lady swathed in layers of jewelled fabric and bright red hair enquired, laughing. “That they sustained more damage after spending a day with you than they have in a hundred years?”

  “What about Hadleigh?” A larger, solidly built lady smelling of cookies and chocolate pressed forward, eyes bright with curiosity. “Did she really cut herself with one of her own swords? She hasn’t done that since she was an infant.”

  “Um… err.” Never mind having a panic attack, Cara found she was simply unable to breathe. The heavy wave of perfume clogging her throat and making her eyes water.

  “Ladies.” A husky female voice admonished, a hand appearing out of nowhere to clamp down on Cara’s upper arm. “I was wondering where my client was.”

  Cara stumbled to the side, letting her mystery saviour tug her and her suitcase out from under the tidal wave of chattering older ladies who were making noises of protest and looking like they might follow. Only to pull up short as a glass door was resoundingly shut in their faces.

  “There. Just take a few deep breaths. They won’t come in here.”

  The hushed, softly lit space instantly made Cara feel safe, she nodded her gratitude, doing her best to breathe. “Tha…. Thanks. Th… they had… me surrounded.”

  “Oh, that lot have been swarming all day in search of fresh gossip. I’m Gwen by the way. You’re Cara, right?” Petite, barely five foot two, Gwen exuded energy and warmth as she bustled around Cara. Her blue gaze eyeing her speculatively. “We’d better do something with that hair of yours I think.”