The Reluctant Goddess (The Montgomery Chronicles Book 2) (11 page)

I liked him immediately.
 

"Hello," he said and identified himself as Dr. Kroenig. "What seems to be the problem, today?" he asked, bending down and coaxing Charlie out from beneath the chair.
 

I didn’t blame Charlie for his fickleness, either. I probably would have done the same.
 

Instead of lifting Charlie up to the stainless steel table, Dr. Kroenig simply sat crosslegged on the floor. For the next few minutes, his comments were directed toward Charlie, not me.

Finally, he looked up at me. "You were in an accident?"

"An explosion, actually," I said. "Some plaster walls were destroyed.”
 

“And this guy inhaled a lot of dust,” he said.
 

He explained that he wanted to keep Charlie for a few hours, make sure his respiration hadn’t been affected. He might have to give him oxygen. He recommended that I go home and return in four hours. If anything changed in the interim, he’d give me a call.
 

As long as I was feeling guilty, I might as well be completely honest.
 

“I think he needs his shots, too,” I said. “And heartworm medication.” I explained that I’d found Charlie as a stray.
 

“We’ll get him taken care of,” he said. Standing, he went to the computer mounted on the wall and punched in a few numbers. “We’ll do some blood tests, too, just to make sure he’s okay.”
 

When he announced the cost of the visit, I gulped, thanked my lucky stars that I had a hefty bank balance and decided that guilt had a price tag.
 

“That’s fine,” I said.
 

I bent down to scratch Charlie behind the ears.

“But you think he’ll be all right?”
 

Please let him be all right.
 

“I think he’ll be fine, won’t you boy?”
 

Tucked in behind that jovial tone was a message: no thanks to you, lady.
 

Guilt had a voiceover now.
 

I watched as Dr. Kroenig led Charlie out of the room, into the inner sanctum of the animal hospital. Charlie looked back at me once, as if to say, “Why are you leaving me here, Marcie? Don’t you love me anymore?”
 

I stood there, swamped with emotion, feeling lower than a worm with a tall silk hat on. Until I opened the door of the clinic to find that my shadow had returned, with company.
 

Dan and Mike were standing there waiting for me.
 

Neither one of them looked happy to see me.

The thing about guilt: it doesn't hang around in the presence of irritation. Being annoyed kind of burns the guilt away like the sun does fog.

I met their glares with a frown of my own, standing there with my arms folded, my hair no doubt a strange shade of white. My face was beginning to itch and I thought it was from plaster dust. Or I was allergic to being chastised. Either one was possible.
 

"Do you want to explain yourself?” Dan said.

"No," I said.

There, an adult response.
 

He was my host, not my guardian. He wasn't my keeper and he certainly wasn't my father, since my father was some kind of vampire. A strong one, I suspected, since I thought Maddock had him put to death.

How? A question for another time, perhaps, when I wasn't being intimidated by two good looking men.

Dan was as tall as Mike. He wasn't as visibly buff, but there wasn’t any doubt that there were muscles underneath the Polo shirt. He wasn't wearing jeans, but tailored slacks.
 

Mike, on the other hand, was wearing a dark blue short sleeved shirt and black jeans. Same old, same old.
 

“Did you ever do any modeling?” I asked Dan.
 

“What?” he asked, his frown slipping a little.
 

“Never mind.”
 

I couldn't go through the two men, so I merely went around, stepping over the flower bed with something that approximated dexterity. I didn’t damage one plant.
 

When I got to my car, he was right behind me. I glanced back. Mike had retreated to his truck, but Dan was in front of the door. There was no way to make Dan move if he didn’t want to move. The man was as obstinate as a stone.

I leaned against the car and folded my arms again.

"What do you want me to say? I didn't cause the explosion.”
 

"I thought you were dead," he said.

Here came guilt again, trotting up beside me and nudging away the irritation.

"I'm fine. Mike probably told you I'm fine."

"Jesus Christ, Marcie, a building exploded and you were in it. What do you think Mike said to me?"

Knowing the laconic Mike, I could just imagine.
 

"I'm fine," I said again, just now realizing he must have broken the land speed record driving in from the castle.
 

"How many tickets did you get?" I asked.
 

He frowned again. “What?”
 

I explained what I meant.

"I was in San Antonio," he said. "I had something to do.”

No doubt administering his kingdom. Up until Dan I'd never known anybody with an eight figure income.

I wasn't doing too shabby myself, but that's only because I’d received death benefits when I became a vampire. I had no other income, not like the Cluckey's Fried Chicken empire.
 

“What were you doing at the bookstore?"

“Does it matter?”
 

"No, Marcie," he said softly, "it doesn't matter. But it would be easier to keep you safe if I knew where you were going.”

“Let’s just agree that you might not be able to keep me safe. I appreciate your efforts to do so. I really do."
 

"Which means that you're not going to tell me what you’re doing, is that it?”

“No, I’m not.”
 

He only nodded. “How is Mutt?”
 

“He’s going to be fine,” I said with false cheer. “The vet is just checking him over. I think he inhaled too much plaster dust.”
 

He reached over and brushed his knuckles along my cheek.
 

“He doesn’t look like the only one.”
 

I wished he hadn’t touched me. I didn’t want to feel all warm and toasty around Dan at the moment.
 

“I’ve got to come back in a few hours and pick him up.”
 

“I could do that for you.”
 

“He’s my dog,” I said, suddenly feeling protective. “And his name isn’t Mutt. It’s Charlie.”
 

He didn’t say anything to that.
 

"Are you okay?"

I nodded, wishing I didn't suddenly feel so weepy.

“I went to the bookstore to see Mr. Brown,” I said, annoyed at myself for spilling the beans. “He has a lot of very old books. I thought he might have some information about a Dirugu. Not everything’s on Google,” I added. “Although everyone thinks it is. There’s an awful lot of knowledge that isn’t made public.”

“Could he help?”

"No. He doesn't carry books on the paranormal.”

He reached behind me and opened the car door then stepped back.

“I’ll follow you home,” he said.
 

“I’m not going back to the castle right now,” I said. “I’m going to check on my apartment.” Since I was so close, it seemed foolish not to. I hadn’t been home since the day Dan talked me into going to stay with him.
 

His face changed, his eyes becoming flat.
 

"What?"

He stepped back as I got into the car.

"You going to follow me, aren't you?"

He only nodded.

I had the feeling that he wanted to say something else, but whatever it was, he bit it back.
 

Dan Travis, Man of Mystery. I was getting a little tired of it.
 

I bit back my irritation and started for my apartment.
 

I was worried about Charlie. The vet's comments about putting him on oxygen just amped up the guilt. Why had I taken him with me? Granted, there was the security factor. I felt safe with Charlie.
 

But I was a lousy dog owner.
 

It wasn't enough to love an animal. You had to put actions to words, didn’t you? That’s pretty much a guide to life. Bill, my former significant other, had always told me how much he loved me, but my memories of him were strangely platonic.
 

I remember him sitting in front of the TV, watching the Cowboys play with a beer in one hand and the remote in the other. He’d nod to me during intermission or say something as long as it didn’t interfere with the game. Sometimes I thought he watched Dallas for the cheerleaders, but the sad fact was that I couldn't muster up enough jealousy to actually care.

In the end, it wasn’t Bill’s obsession with sports that ended our relationship. Or the fact that he never joined me in bed until I was asleep.
 

We had drawn apart. We never did anything together. I kept my money in my checking account and he did the same. We were roommates more than lovers. I knew, with the feeling that wasn't so much sadness as resignation, that we would never marry. If he asked me, I wouldn't say yes.

In the end, it was easier to leave, only to fall into Doug’s arms and become a vampire.
 

I should call Bill to tell him. Or maybe one of our mutual friends already had. Or one of the friends I’d thought I had before BF.
 

Who knows, Bill might be more interested in me as a vampire than he had been as a human. Too bad I hadn’t been turned while we were still together. I could have compelled him to shut off the damn TV and pay some attention to me.
 

But, then, I wouldn’t be here now, annoyed at Dan and all too aware of him following me.
 

Life, if I could call it that, had definitely gotten more interesting since I’d become a vampire. I just wish it weren’t so damned dangerous, too.

C
HAPTER
T
WELVE

It’s for your own good, I promise, human version

I hadn’t been back to my apartment as soon as I should have. I was running out of time to convince the manager to let me stay. I’d been kicked out for having a dog without informing the management. Of course, I’d only had the dog for a few hours, so they were being a little unfair. Plus, I’d been more than willing to pay the pet deposit.
 

All comments I mustered for when I met with the manager.
 

Charlie would have to remain at the castle, of course, which I hated. Or maybe I could pay double the pet deposit. A Canadian company had taken over management of the complex last year. The first thing they’d done was pretty up the place by painting all the siding on the buildings and planting new bushes. The second thing they’d done was raise all the rents.
 

I’d bet my last rent check that money was a great motivator. I’d probably get a rent increase, plus a lecture. Of the two, I’d be more amenable to the rent increase. Being lectured by a paternalistic figure didn’t hold any charm whatsoever. As much as I didn’t like getting into someone else’s head, maybe I could just limit the lecture with a command.
 

I didn’t get the chance.
 

I drove around to my parking spot, expecting Mr. Gunderson to be blocking me once again. This time, it wasn't my elderly neighbor, but a moving truck in the middle of the covered parking area, which wasn't going to please my neighbors. Whoever was moving in was going to get lectured by the management as well receive the cold shoulder from the tenants.
 

We Texans might be polite at red lights, but we didn’t like people messing with our parking.
 

I pulled into one of the visitor spots and caught sight of my antique breakfront making its way to the inside of the truck.
 

For a shocked moment I thought I was being burgled on a large scale. Except of course, that Dan got out of his car and made his way to one of the men and spoke to him. I sat there watching as my mattress and box springs were loaded into the truck, followed by the mahogany carved headboard I loved from the moment I found it in Fredericksburg.

Dan turned and looked at me.
 

I felt the anger bubble up inside, like a long dormant volcano coming to life. I closed my eyes and tried to calm myself down. I visualized a waterfall, the image changing to steam in seconds. Then I thought about a serene and pastoral scene, something out of an English landscape. It burned in seconds.
 

I’d had a hell of a day. First the explosion, then the realization that I’d harmed Charlie, and now this.
 

How dare he.
 

How dare Dan take over my life like this.