The Reluctant Goddess (The Montgomery Chronicles Book 2) Read online

  When we stopped in front of my grandmother's house, Dan surprised me by undoing his seatbelt.

  "It's really better if you stay here," I said. "I doubt if she's going to welcome a stranger with open arms."

  "I'm not leaving you alone," he said. "Not now and not in the future. Get used to it."

  "So you're turning into an alpha male now?"

  He grinned at me. "I've always been an alpha male," he said. "I just hide it better than most. None of this I'm Tarzan, you Jane stuff."

  “Like Mike,” I said. “By the way, where is he?”

  “Sleeping. He was up late last night.”

  I eyed him. “A date? With a certain vampire?”

  His grin widened. “I’ve been asked not to tell you, to prevent a certain gloating.”

  I smiled. There, just a little gloating. I couldn’t help but wonder if Kenisha was the reason for the smiles I’d seen on Mike’s face. He looked completely different when he was in a good mood. He wasn’t nearly as scary.

  Dan opened the door for me and stood there until I finally got out of the car. He held my left elbow in his palm as we made our way up the walk.

  In deference to my grandmother, I’d worn a long blue skirt with a matching jacket and my white lace blouse. In deference to the fact that I might have to run for my life (always a consideration), I wore my sneakers.

  I really shouldn't have been able to feel the heat of Dan’s hand through the material of my jacket, but I did. I was acutely aware of him, not only as an alpha male but as a handsome man, one who still intrigued me.

  I had slept beside him all night and nothing had happened.

  Seriously, was I stupid or what? Yet now was not the time to think about sex. Really. Not when I was going to see my grandmother.

  I would've felt a little better going around to the back of the house. At least there I hadn't been zapped. But Dan walked to the front, rang the bell at the porch door, and stood there smiling at me. No doubt he was trying to be reassuring, but he didn't know that a few weeks earlier, I had been rendered unconscious by a spell on this very threshold.

  When my grandmother appeared, I looked up at her. “Is it safe?”

  She nodded and stepped back.

  I walked past her and into the house, entering the room my grandmother called her parlor, the first time I had ever done so without being invited. This room was for funerals, notice of dread diseases, my initiation into Rainbow Girls, and the night of my graduation from high school when my mother had been blessedly absent.

  The couch and chairs were upholstered in a gold brocade that had been popular during the seventies. Gilt framed bucolic scenes of landscapes from another century and country dotted the walls. Round tables sat beside the chairs and another, larger round table was in front of the couch.

  The room smelled of dust and roses. I wondered how long it had been since my grandmother had washed the white lace curtains. Maybe I should volunteer to do it, or hint that her sisters of the faith could pitch in. The tables were polished, however, to a high sheen, and each of the knickknacks were dust free.

  All of the lamps in her house were made of porcelain and the ones in the parlor were no exception. She didn’t like brass or silver for some reason. Nor did she have any little statues or tchotchkes made of anything other than porcelain. I’d never considered it before, but now I wondered if her dislike of metals and square tables had something to do with being a witch.

  My grandmother entered the room, both hands clenched in front of her, followed by Dan. He dwarfed the parlor with his presence.

  Nonnie sat in the corner of the couch, looking small and frail. I didn’t want to ask her the question, but I didn’t have a choice.

  “Did you send the witches to me, Nonnie?”

  She blinked at me. “What do you mean, Marcie?”

  “Three witches came to me last night, Nonnie. A hologram. To warn me or to scare me, either one.”

  “This happened in your home?”

  I shook my head. I hadn’t told anyone I was staying at the castle. When I told Nonnie now, she turned and stared at Dan.

  Dan met her eyes and didn’t look away. Nor did either of them explain the silent stare.

  He was sitting on the chair opposite my grandmother, one knee have drawn up, a wrist casually resting against the arm, as comfortable in Nonnie’s parlor as he’d looked in the back of the Rolls. His dark blue suit favored him, although I wouldn’t have advised him to wear that red and white striped tie. He looked like he was running for office.

  I think I liked him better in blue jeans with that swagger he had when he walked. Pure Texan. Now he could have come from anywhere: New York, Pennsylvania, even Washington.

  I finally sat on the opposite end of the sofa from Nonnie. I dug my hand into my skirt pocket where my phone was, fingering my go-to wallet as I felt the rising tension in the room.

  In my corporate life, I’d gotten into the habit of dispensing with a purse when I went on calls. Instead, I tucked a small leather case into my pocket containing my driver’s license, a debit and credit card, and twenty dollars in cash.

  “Would someone tell me what’s going on?”

  Nonnie finally glanced at me. “I have no power to do such a thing,” she said.

  “Maybe not alone. But what about with your coven? Your sisters of the faith?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “We have never even attempted such a thing. We used to call it distance viewing. Some call it visitation. We have never done one. To do so requires a great deal of preparation.”

  “What kind of preparation?”

  “A snip of hair. Or something from the person who is being visited.” She looked at me. “Has anyone taken anything from you?”

  I thought about being unconscious in the hospital room at the castle. Anything could have happened then.

  I glanced at Dan. “Is Dr. Fernandez a witch? A warlock? Whatever a male witch is called?” I hadn’t had a headache around him, but I’d been given pain medication at the time, too.

  Nonnie smiled. “A male is called a witch, just like a female. We don’t practice discrimination.”

  Dan shook his head. “He isn’t a witch.”

  "You must've been around someone with the power to summon,” Nonnie said. “Like him.”

  I blinked at her.

  “Dan isn’t a witch.”

  I would have known. If nothing else, I would have had a headache around him, but I didn’t feel anything around my grandmother, either. Why not?

  Nonnie didn’t answer, just stared at Dan again.

  “She doesn’t mean me,” Dan said. “She’s talking about my mother.”

  “Your mother?” I glanced at him.

  “What is your mother’s name?” Nonnie asked.

  When Dan said her name, Nonnie nodded.

  “I know her. She has the power.” She turned to me. “She must have taken something from you, Marcie. It’s the only way the spell can be cast.”

  “My mother wouldn’t have done anything. She’s forbidden to use her powers when she’s in my home,” Dan said.

  I held out my arm and pushed back my sleeve. The welts hadn't disappeared, not like the scar on my leg which was growing lighter each day. These marks were still red and angry looking.

  “Do tell,” I said to Dan.

  He looked at my arm, then met my eyes. “I didn’t know.”

  “Neither did I. You didn’t think it important enough to tell me that your mother was a witch?” I asked.

  I could have zapped him right at that moment. I wanted to. Instead, I looked away, concentrating on the view through the lace curtains. From here I could see Mr. Guajardo’s Victorian home, a mammoth three story house that had been built for the nineteenth century’s large family. He was the only one who lived there now.

  Telling me about his mother earlier wouldn’t have solved anything, but I was getting tired of Dan playing Charlie Chan and being all inscrutable. He didn’t share information.
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  My irritation could have so easily been translated to power, but I took several deep breaths until I had my temper under control. I could be reticent, too. I hadn’t told Dan that I’d zapped Maddock last night.

  Nonnie stood. "Come,” she said, "I'll make a poultice for you."

  With a look, she commanded Dan to remain in the parlor. Let’s put it this way, I wouldn’t have followed her. She was scary mad, but then, so was I.

  I knew I had a little bit of reserve about Dan. Maybe it was being turned into a vampire. I didn’t trust anyone as completely as I once had. I didn’t know, until now, that he evidently felt the same about me. Or maybe he just chose to protect his mother.

  What was it about mothers?

  My own had no love lost for me, which was just as well. Demi was little more than an incubator for me, the chicken to my egg. Once I'd been hatched, I'd pretty much been on my own. From Nonnie I’d gotten affection. That emotion had never come from Demi.

  Dan's mother wasn't afraid of me, but she made no secret that she didn't like me. Would she have felt the same about any woman staying at Arthur's Folly? Was she the protective type?Or just a witch? Why had she sent a trio of witches after me? I didn’t need any more complications in my life right now.

  “Give me your arm, Marcie,” my grandmother said when I entered the kitchen.

  I knew better to argue. Nonnie, witch or no, had persuasive powers. It would just be faster to let her treat the welts. Who knows, maybe they were still there because of witch magic. Maybe her witchy poultice was just what I needed.

  “She has my DNA now, doesn’t she?”

  Nonnie waved me down onto the padded bench in the corner. I took off my jacket and extended my arm. She brought her first aid kit to the table, sat and contemplated the welts.

  “She will not be able to perform another distance spell on you,” she said. “But she may be able to do some other damage.”

  She pursed her lips and shook her head, universal signs of disapproval.

  “I didn’t know she was a witch, Nonnie.”

  And I was going to talk to Dan, really talk, when I had gotten over being mad.

  “I’m not angry at you, child, but at myself.”

  That was new.

  Nonnie opened a dark green bottle and poured something that smelled like mint on my arm. Instantly, the welts seemed to fade, the coolness a pleasant feeling. She placed a large gauze bandage on the welts and pressed the green bottle into my hand.

  “I should have prepared you better. You need to be able to recognize those of the faith if, for no other reason, than to protect yourself.”

  That sounded too much like vampire orientation to be comfy.

  “I get a headache,” I said, trying to remember the night I’d met Janet. I’d had a low grade headache, but I put it down to the stress of trying to kill Maddock. But being that close to Janet should have made my head really throb. Unless, of course, there was something at the castle, some technology involved in lessening a witch’s influence.

  What about Dan’s sister, Nancy? Was she a witch, too?

  “Why don’t I get a headache around you?”

  She frowned at me. “We are linked by blood.”

  Was that the answer?

  “Do I have witch powers?”

  She sat back and stared at me, just as she had Dan. I met her look with the same insouciance he’d demonstrated.

  “I have never tested you,” she said.

  “There’s a test?”

  She nodded. “It involves my sisters of the faith. Under different conditions, I would summon them.”

  “Better not,” I said.

  They’d set up a protective perimeter around Nonnie’s house against me. Heaven knows what they’d do face to face.

  She nodded, but she looked troubled. I hadn’t meant to bring problems to my grandmother. Yet we would have been better off being honest with each other.

  Talk about being honest, why hadn’t Dan told me about his mother? I looked toward the parlor. I didn’t want to go back in there and see Dan. Not now. Not until my temper had cooled.

  My grandmother owned an old Ford Escort that she kept in the neighbor’s garage. I never understood the working dynamics of that relationship, only that Mr. Guijardo was twice as old as the car and had muffler problems just like the Escort.

  He called me Señora, despite the fact I’ve never been married. He called Nonnie corazon, Spanish for heart. When she was in his presence, her fingertips fluttered, her eyelashes batted; she was as mobile as a hummingbird.

  I couldn’t help but wonder if the two had become sweethearts after Mrs. Guijardo had left him. She hadn’t died; she’d moved back to Mexico to take care of her ancient mother. Evidently, caring for the woman took precedence over being a wife. Mr. Guijardo hadn’t seemed to mind all that much and now I couldn’t help but wonder if it was because of Nonnie.

  Was my grandmother the other woman?

  “Is your car still at Mr. Guijardo’s?”

  She nodded.

  “Can I borrow it?”

  She nodded again and added a smile.

  I opened the junk drawer where she’d always kept her keys. Did everyone have a kitchen junk drawer? Nonnie’s held a package of birthday candles, two screwdrivers, old house keys, dried out pens, pamphlets for the new dryer, stove, the old refrigerator replaced years ago, recipes she’d cut out of magazines a decade earlier, and at least five dollars in nickels and pennies.

  I grabbed the keys and stuffed them into my pocket.

  I wasn’t intending to escape for good. After all, I didn’t have anywhere to live but at the castle, but I needed to get away for a little while. It was morning, not night. Besides, after last night, I had some confidence I could protect myself, at least better than I’d been able to before.

  Freedom - a few hours, that’s all I wanted.

  When I said as much to Nonnie, she smiled.

  “I don’t know if he has any powers, child,” she said, a comment that troubled me, “but I’ll try to delay him for a few minutes. In the meantime, use the mint salve at least once a day.”

  I nodded, bent and kissed her papery cheek, then bolted for the door.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  I’m just a goddess in a gilded cage

  I wasn’t surprised when the Escort started up the first time. Nor was I startled when Mr. Guijardo waved at me from the kitchen window. Just how much did he know about my life?

  The mental image of my grandmother and Mr. Guijardo exchanging pillow talk was not one I wanted to have, but I had it, nonetheless. I visualized a huge, bright red stop sign and tried to purge my brain as I drove down the alley, heading for Austin Highway and Madame X, or Mary Dougherty, the Librarian.

  I had too many questions and she was the only one with answers.

  I rolled down the driver’s window, putting my arm on the edge of the door. Both my grandmother’s poultice and the warmth of the sun felt good.

  Back in BF, I tanned well. One thing about being a vampire, however, regardless of how long I was out in the sun, I didn't tan. The only time I got red was when I practiced the zapping thing.

  I hesitated at the corner, looked to my right and saw Dan’s car. He was not going to be a happy camper when he realized I was gone.

  Raising my hand, I thought about melting metal. My eyes crossed with the pain. Okay, wait, not that. Maybe just a jolt of energy to burn through rubber, as in a flat tire or four. I closed my eyes, visualized the car sagging to the rims.

  When I opened them, I honestly couldn’t tell if I’d done anything. The best way would be to drive by, but I didn’t want to be seen from the house.

  Glancing to my left, I aimed my power at the branch of an old tree. In seconds, I heard a crack as it fell onto a privacy fence, then to the ground. Okay, maybe the zapping thing only worked in close quarters.

  I really had to practice someplace where I wouldn’t do property damage. It was the adjuster in me.

&
nbsp; At least, by making off with the Escort, I’d bought myself a little free time. Ten minutes later, I was sitting opposite the Librarian in her office.

  "You have come to recognize yourself," she said, smiling. “You know your destiny.”

  "I don't know what that means," I said. “I’ve got questions.”

  I knew that I could do things other people couldn't. When I was growing up I wanted to be unique. I wanted to be something special, more than I was, just plain Marcie Montgomery who was so damn earnest and trying to please everyone. I studied hard. I ironed my own school blouses and skirts so I was always neat and clean. I put myself to bed most nights. Sometimes I stared up at the ceiling and indulged in a fantasyland of my own, a life in which people admired and looked up to me. I’d be a famous singer or a dancer or an actress and the world would be at my feet.

  Never once did I imagine I’d be on a pedestal because I was a goddess.

  “What does it mean, that a Dirugu will unite them? What am I supposed to do, wave my magic wand? Set up a government?”

  “It’s nothing you have to worry about now. It will come about in due time. The Other will help you.”

  “What’s the Other? Is that another word for Brethren? Or Kindred?”

  She didn’t answer, only smiled at me in that irritating way some of the people in HR have. Humor this one, she might cause problems. And for the love of God don’t put her with Robert in Claims Mediation. You know the problem we have with his monkey jokes.

  “Do you get paid for being the Librarian?”

  She blinked at me a few times. Sorry to bring the twenty-first century into fantasyland, but we all have to pay our rent and buy groceries.

  “Do all the Brethren get together and contribute to your salary?”

  “Why does this concern you?”

  “Is everyone in Fantasyland wealthy?”

  "Fantasyland?"

  "Goddessland. Wonderland. Whatever you want to call it. This new kind of virtual reality I'm inhabiting nowadays."