The Reluctant Goddess (The Montgomery Chronicles Book 2)

by Karen Ranney

  I think I offended her. Her nose flared. Her eyebrows jumped over the vertical lines above her nose, attempting to form one long caterpillar. Her lips thinned.

  “Did you grow up knowing you were going to be the Librarian?"

  She looked startled by the question, enough not to answer.

  “I grew up knowing I'd have to go to college and get a job. I never knew I was part vampire. I didn't have any warning that I was going to become a full-fledged vampire. I didn't know that, because of my bloodline, I would turn into something that half the world wants to kill and the other half wants to put in a cage. I didn't know any of that. I had what I considered a normal, if that word could be used at all, childhood. Maybe you grew up knowing all this weirdness was okay. I didn't."

  "You are the source of all this weirdness," she said not unkindly. The soft note in her voice didn't take away the sting of her words.

  While I was thinking of a comeback, she continued.

  "It's like a California earthquake," she said. "California residents are urged to take precautions. They’re warned there might be a large earthquake, sufficient to cause massive destruction and a loss of life. They know the possibility is there, but nobody really believes that it's going to happen today or tomorrow."

  "And I'm a California earthquake?"

  She nodded. "We all knew there was a possibility, a perfect storm if you will, a perfect pairing of witch and vampire and human, resulting in someone like you."

  “Please don’t tell me I'm the only one,” I said, the sour taste in my mouth growing.

  "We have searched the world," she said. "You are the only offspring of a vampire that we have found."

  Wasn't I special?

  "So what happens now?” I asked. “Do I start wearing embroidered robes? Do I have a crown? What do I do?"

  "You learn," she said. "There are many books you need to study."

  I sat back in my chair. "What kind of books?"

  "History. Sociology. Psychology."

  "I've been to college."

  "These are books not in the common domain. You do not know, for example, the history of vampires in the Civil War. Or how shape changers came to be."

  She was right. I didn't know as much as I needed to know about vampires. And I knew almost nothing about the rest of the Brethren.

  "What about fairies and elves, brownies? Are there such things as unicorns?"

  She smiled, the expressing looking genuinely amused this time. "Only if a shape shifter wishes to appear like a unicorn. It's up to them."

  “Are there shape shifters in San Antonio?"

  "They're everywhere."

  "Are you anything else other than a Librarian? For example, are you a shape shifter, too?"

  Her smile broadened.

  "I am only the Librarian.”

  “How many Librarians in the world?”

  “Not many,” she said.

  I’d heard that answer before. It meant either: we don’t know or we don’t want to tell you.

  “Can you see the future? Like the California earthquakes?"

  She inclined her head a little. "Perhaps."

  "Do you try to let people know?"

  "If it's practical."

  For the life of me I couldn't put an occupant of fantasyland and the word “practical” together.

  “So, after I learn all this stuff, what do I do?”

  She smiled. “You must learn, so that you can control your power.”

  A non-answer if I’ve ever heard one.

  “I don’t want any power,” I said.

  The past was rife with stories of those who conquered, pillaged, and burned in order to achieve dominion over others. Alexander the Great. Julius Caesar. Philip of Macedonia. Hitler.

  Where were the women? I didn’t want to be the first one.

  “Being a Dirugu is your destiny.”

  I glanced over at her. “So far that, plus a couple of dollars, will get me a vente latte. Otherwise, it’s a little like being a vampire. A lot of complications but not a lot of bang for my buck.”

  Right now the only things I could do were to zap someone, compel humans, eat, walk in the sun, and possibly get pregnant. It was the last one that worried me more than any of the others.

  "If I’m a goddess, can't I change my life?"

  She sat back, her gaze never leaving me. "What would you be if not what you are?"

  I tried to swallow, but it felt like I’d eaten a rock and it had lodged in my throat.

  "I'd be mortal, human."

  "And if that was not possible? How else would you change your life?"

  I'd know what the hell I was doing, for one. I'd know my enemies. So far that consisted of Maddock, the master vampire, and my mother. Add a dozen witches, plus three, and Dan’s mother. But I was sure there were others, creatures lurking out there in the darkness, Brethren I had not yet met or didn't even know about.

  I would know how to stay safe, all on my own, without help from anyone else, like Dan.

  The magnitude of everything swamped me, no doubt the reason I had a headache. Or it might even be a witch nearby, close enough that my witchy radar was going off.

  Why had I come here? I’d wanted her to tell me I could reverse all this. I wasn’t a Dirugu, savior and scourge all in one. I wasn’t a damn goddess.

  I suddenly wanted a chocolate chip cookie or twelve and a gallon of Rum Raisin Ice Cream.

  Did I know how to cope or what?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Cookies and ice cream and condoms, oh my

  I’m sure I could have gotten ice cream at the castle. Just as I’m positive that, if they didn’t have my flavor, they could get it quick enough, even if it meant sending a helicopter to the factory.

  Not that I’d seen a helicopter, but I’m sure Dan had one.

  Returning to the castle so soon would have defeated my escape from Nonnie’s house. Granted, I’d been able to see the Librarian without being followed, but I wasn’t ready to relinquish my freedom just yet, which is why I parked at the HEB on the corner of Thousand Oaks and Nacogdoches.

  Once upon a time, the store used to be an Albertsons, back when Albertsons was still in San Antonio. We had Whole Foods now and Walmart, but we were predominantly an HEB city. HEB is a Texas institution, a grocery chain founded by the Butt family.

  When I was in college, I dated a boy named Howard Butt, and I know it’s shallow of me, but his name embarrassed me. If the relationship went further, I could just see introducing myself and my children. Hi, I’m Marcie Butt and these are all the little buttocks. I ended it after a few dates.

  I said it was shallow.

  I confess that I'm sometimes snarky. I have to silence that aspect of my personality when I can and allow the better angel of my nature prominence. However, this was not one of those times. The snark was strong in me when I realized that Dan was in the parking lot.

  I got out of the car and slammed the door for good measure. Slamming the door on an ancient Escort isn’t the same as slamming the door on a Mercedes, or God forbid, a Rolls.

  Glaring at him just got me a smile in return.

  Once inside the grocery store, I grabbed a basket and headed for the frozen aisle. I had a microwave in my room, so I selected some White Castle Cheeseburgers and a small lasagna, and other goodies like frozen cookie dough. I was blithely going to ignore the warning not to eat it uncooked. After my grandmother’s potion no self respecting bacillus would live in my intestines.

  "Not exactly healthy food, Marcie."

  I glanced sideways at Dan, realizing that my annoyance was only fueling his humor.

  "Shut up," I said, as politely as I could. At least I wasn’t shouting at him. “Where’s the monitor?”

  “Monitor?”

  “The pin, the chip, the signal? You’ve got GPS on me, right? It’s the only way you could have found me.”

  “It’s in your phone.”

  Well, damn, I hadn’t thought of that. I wanted
to throw the phone at him, but since it was the only one I currently had, that wasn’t a brilliant idea.

  “You can wait for me in the parking lot."

  "No."

  I really wanted him to wait in the car. I was planning on buying some condoms and I most emphatically didn’t want him to watch.

  Should I suggest that he go buy them?

  No. That would give him the idea that I was willing to do a repeat performance of Marcie in the throes of passion. Okay, maybe I was, but I wasn’t going to announce it. Besides, I was on a personal responsibility kick and that was part of being responsible.

  "Nothing's going to happen to me in the grocery store."

  "I don't know that. Neither do you."

  He had a point.

  “Why’d you leave?”

  “I wanted a little freedom,” I said. “Like now.”

  To my surprise, he didn’t comment.

  I found the premium ice cream section and two pints of Rum Raisin. For good measure I added a few bananas to the top of the basket. I don't think it mattered what I ate as long as it wasn't blood.

  “We’ve got food at home.”

  “It’s your home, not mine,” I said. “Besides, I can buy my own food.”

  “I can always give you a bill for what you eat.” He smiled at me and that made me want to punch him again.

  What was my problem?

  First of all, I didn't want to be tracked like a migrating wildebeest. I didn’t want a defender who probably wasn’t as dangerous as I could be. I say probably because I didn’t know what Dan’s skill set was. He might be able to throw knives from his fingernails, for all I knew, or flames from his earlobes.

  He hadn’t told me about his mother, which still made me mad. Nor was I all that pleased to notice the looks from the other shoppers, most of whom were female. They were eyeing Dan like he was sirloin on sale and they’d been on a hamburger diet most of their lives.

  “I’d really feel better if you waited for me outside.”

  "While I wouldn't," he said, smiling kindly at me as if I had a room temperature IQ.

  “Okay, fine, we’re going to the feminine products.”

  That did it. He was instantly absorbed in the tissue display while I cruised past the tampons and pads. Thank heavens the condoms were on the end of the aisle.

  I read somewhere that people have a difficult time deciding when there was too great a selection. Psychologists called it the paradox of choice. It was easier for people to choose when there were fewer items to select.

  Raising my hand right here. I know that for a fact.

  Bulk, lubricated, ribbed, ultra ribbed, ultra sensitive, latex, latex free, maxi, regular, snug fit - what the hell did I buy? The longer I stood there, the warmer I got. Go figure, the goddess gets embarrassed. I finally grabbed a variety pack and hoped that covered all the bases and Dan.

  To hide them, I tucked the box beneath a jumbo size package of candy bars.

  "There's no law that says you can't be a healthy vampire,” Dan said from behind me.

  I turned and faced him.

  "According to Maddock, healthy vampires drink blood. Frankly, I preferred to be a little unhealthy."

  "A good point," he said.

  A moment later, he dropped a package of Hersey candy bars in my basket.

  "What's that for?"

  "S'mores," he said. “We need marshmallows and graham crackers."

  "I hate S’mores," I said.

  "Nobody hates S’mores."

  "I do. I like chocolate and I like marshmallows. I like graham crackers. I just don't like them all together."

  "Are you one of those people who insists that your food not touch each other?"

  "I like casseroles,” I said. “I just don’t like S’mores.”

  "You’re unique, Marcie.”

  I was a goddess. Of course I was unique.

  I finished my grocery shopping, including the graham crackers and the marshmallows, and made it to the checkout counter where we had another argument.

  "You're not going to buy my groceries," I said, when he pulled out his card. “It’s the reason I’m here. Why bother if you’re going to buy my food?”

  He looked surprised.

  "I can't take everything from you, Dan. I'm a grown woman."

  "And you're shopping here is an indication of that fact?"

  "No, my buying my own groceries is an indication of that fact."

  He stepped back. "Okay." He held his hands up, palms towards me. “Do your own thing, Marcie."

  I checked out on the self-serve terminal, bagged up my groceries myself, and put them in the car.

  He hung back not saying a word, but a little grin played on his face. I would bet everything I owned that when I got to the castle and parked in the garage, he wasn't going to help me. There would be no chivalry offered as I schlepped the bags up to my room.

  I made it out to the Escort, put the groceries in the trunk, and waved to him as I got behind the wheel. If I’d had a spoon, I would have grabbed one of the pints of Rum Raisin and eaten it in the car, but I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Let’s face it, when I was around Dan, my intellect wasn’t as involved as my emotions.

  We were almost back at the castle when Dan honked at me. I’d spent the majority of the trip deliberately ignoring the Jeep in the rear view mirror. I was castigating myself as each mile passed. I indulged in a little self-talk while I was at it.

  You are a strong, resourceful woman. You are not a slave to your hormones. You don’t have to get hot and bothered when a man smiles at you. Sex is overrated.

  Okay, I was having a problem with the last one.

  At his honk, I waved one hand in the air and smiled grimly into the rearview mirror. He honked again and, to my surprise, pulled off.

  What the heck?

  I slowed, then pulled to the side of the road and stopped, still watching. Dan got out of the Jeep and ran back to something.

  I got out of the Escort and walked toward him. Clutching my jacket close to me, I fought the cold wind and the gusts from the passing trucks and made my way to where Dan was kneeling. The sky was a pewter color, the gravel on the shoulder a mixture of beige and gray.

  The beige mound moved.

  My heart stopped.

  I began to run, my jacket flapping wildly, my hair loose and streaming over my face. I was crying before I knelt on the gravel beside him. My hands wobbled in the air, terrified to touch Charlie in case I added to his pain.

  He made a sound, a noise I’ll remember forever. My soul interpreted it as gratitude, as the soft whine of a dying creature. The look of misery in Charlie’s eyes froze my heart.

  Around his neck was a choke collar, one of those stainless steel things with barbs, but this wasn't a normal choke collar. The one had little spikes tipped with mini arrows. If he moved his head in a certain way, it would cut him.

  His neck was matted with blood.

  Words wouldn’t come, even if I could push them past the constriction in my throat.

  Dan found where the collar fastened and gently removed it from Charlie’s neck.

  Only then did I throw my arms around Charlie, burying my face in his fur at the shoulder.

  "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

  We were several miles from the castle, but even farther from Super Dick’s house. Charlie must have made a break for it not long after Super Dick chained him up. I didn’t want to compute how many miles he’d traveled. Or how dangerous a journey it had been, especially on the shoulder of the interstate.

  “Let’s get him to the car,” Dan said. “He’ll be fine.”

  Blood matted Charlie’s chest. I wasn’t sure he was going to be fine at all. Why the hell didn’t I have the power of healing? That’s one ability I could actually use.

  Instead of going to his car, Dan walked to the Escort, stood waiting as I opened the passenger side door.

  "I'm not taking him back to that vet," I said.

  H
e only shook his head. "We’ll treat him at the castle."

  Of course the castle had a vet. If they had a stylist, they had a vet. Why should I be surprised?

  “A day,” I said. “He’s only been gone a day and Super Dick nearly killed him.” I turned to Dan. “I’m not giving him back. If he calls me, I’m going to lie.”

  I could threaten Super Dick with animal cruelty charges. I could report him to the SPCA. No, I was just going to protect Charlie. I was never turning him over to anyone. I wasn’t relinquishing him to another human being or any agency.

  That was already settled.

  Dan only nodded.

  I stared at him as he walked back to his car. If he wanted a fight, he’d get one. I’d be a full-fledged goddess if I had to. I’d be one mad, motha Dirugu.

  Don’t mess with Texas. Don’t mess with me. And you sure as hell didn’t mess with my dog.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Dogs leave paw prints on your heart

  “I’m sorry, Charlie,” I said when I buckled up. I turned to him, my heart aching at the sight of his ravaged neck. “I’m so sorry.”

  I started the car and pulled out into traffic, right after a Walmart truck and what looked like a million dollar motor home. Lots of bells and whistles, but it was still the slowest thing on the highway.

  “The man’s a bastard.”

  “You can say that again,” Charlie said.

  I blinked, stared through the windshield, then reached over and turned off the radio. We traveled in silence for a few minutes while I wondered if I was having some sort of auditory hallucination.

  “Of course, I haven't made it easy for you.”

  I turned the radio back on, turned it off, and stared at Charlie.

  “You are not talking to me,” I said. There, that sounded sane enough, right?

  “I am, actually.”

  My mouth dropped open and every thought flew from my head. I stared at the highway and told myself to concentrate on my driving. I didn’t want to fly off an overpass.

  You didn’t see that guard rail, Miss Montgomery?

  No, officer. I was too busy talking to my dog.