Free The Reluctant Goddess (The Montgomery Chronicles Book 2) by Karen Ranney Page A

huddled over a book.  
    I don’t think he liked buyers coming in his store. Someone had told me that he was independently wealthy, that he maintained the store to keep his relatives from bothering him. I don’t know if it was true or not. Mr. Brown wasn’t the type to divulge details about himself.  
    Charlie, thankfully, sat silent at my side, even as Angelica tiptoed over the books on the counter. Her white fur had grown yellowish and she was as thin as Mr. Brown.
    I hadn't seen the man for two years, but he hadn't changed. He was still tall, but he never stood up straight and even sitting on his stool, he hunched up his shoulders and drew himself in as if to make himself smaller. His face was long, well lined, pulled down by gravity and his own despairing way of looking at the world.  
    “I’ve read too much philosophy,” he told me once. “I’ve seen too much of what the world can do to itself. I've not much positive thought for the human race.”
    How did he feel about vampires?
    His hair was thinning, the blonde strands revealing a delicately pink pate. He looked up and saw me, the gesture making his thick glasses with their black frames slide down to the end of his nose. He looked like an ancient Buddy Holly.
    "Miss Montgomery, what a surprise."  
    For a thin man, he had a deep, booming voice. I’d once commented that he sounded like a radio announcer. He’d only stared at me balefully, a warning not to make a personal remark again.  
    Now he put down the book he was reading and slid from his stool, approaching the counter.
    I was pleased that he remembered my name and also that he’d glanced at Charlie but said nothing about my bringing an animal into his establishment.
    "I need your help, Mr. Brown," I said. “I’m looking for a book on the paranormal.”  
    I’d decided, in those seconds I was waiting for him to notice me, to tell him the truth. It might be the wrong thing to do, given my suspicion of everyone and everything, but I also suspected that it would be the fastest way to learn what I needed to know.  
    Who said I wasn’t still Pollyanna?  
    “The paranormal, Miss Montgomery?”  
    I nodded. “I’m looking for any mention of a creature that’s a combination of a vampire and a witch. It’s called a Dirugu. It’s supposed to be a special kind of vampire.”  
    He didn’t say anything for a moment.  
    “I try not to keep books on the paranormal, Miss Montgomery. I find that exactly the wrong people are searching for them. I don’t want to anger any of those groups.”  
    I noticed that he didn’t actually come out and say he didn’t have any.
    “What groups?”  
    “A great variety, Miss Montgomery. People who would harangue me all day, who would watch my store. I don’t carry books on the paranormal because I don’t want to be involved in their politics. Or be accused of being partial to one group versus another. You do not know how annoying the Other can be.”  
    Who the hell were the Other? Was that another name for Brethren?  
    “I would be very grateful for any help, Mr. Brown. I haven’t been able to find anything on Google or anywhere on the Internet.”  
    His nose wrinkled, which wasn’t an unexpected reaction.  
    “I wouldn’t tell anyone where I got the books, Mr. Brown.”
    Just in case he had some after all.  
    An elderly acquaintance of mine, who used to own a used book store, told me about the box of books she’d always kept under the front counter. They were what would probably pass for erotica today or even plain old porn. When a long-time female customer came in and asked to see “the box”, they brought out about ten of the dog eared volumes at a time, tucked them away in a paper bag, and no one ever mentioned the whispered exchange.  
    Nowadays, we loaded whatever we wanted to read on our Kindles and off we went, no one the wiser.  
    In the spirit of those adventurous women of old, I was getting up the nerve to tell Mr. Brown that