Goddess, Awakened

Book 1: Goddess Connection

by Cate Masters

Genres: Contemporary Romance; Fantasy Romance; Paranormal

Synopsis

With a little help from a goddess, battling evil is a piece of cake for Jocelyn Gibson. A descendant of the goddess Isis, Jocelyn Gibson may have forgotten about the realm of magic, but it hasn't forgotten her. When Eric Hendricks is targeted by a demon, Joss must step in to battle the evil and save the town's awkward, but endearing, vet. . .who also happens to be the man she loves. Joss's new inn, a culinary career specializing in cooking with lavender and a new love all make for a fine recipe of disaster. She needs to embrace her inner goddess and harness the powers she never knew she had before it's too late. "I can't wait to see where else Cate Masters takes us." — The Romance Reviews "A ton of adventure." — Bitten by Romance 89,795 Words

Release date: July 23, 2014

Publisher: Lyrical Press

Print pages: 260

Sample

 

In starting her life over, Joss had expected some resistance, even some trouble, but not this. The bedroom floor boards trembled beneath her golden-slippered feet. Tendrils of an unseen power curled upward from deep within the ground, tingling through her toes. She paused to steady herself, then continued to put the finishing touches on her costume. The tremors grew into rumbles and their hum seeped beneath her skin. When their tiny wisps twined through her mind, she clenched her hands. Enough. Go away.

Thick as starlight on a clear summer’s eve, sweet as the lavender blossoms she had yet to plant, energy whooshed up through the cracks of the worn wood and out into the October night.

She gripped the bureau until it passed, the vibrations rolling over her in lessening waves. Bubbly, effervescent waves. “Third time tonight, Taz.” Each departure took longer, and more of the essence remained.

When the dog whined, she stroked his fur. “Don’t worry, it won’t hurt you.”

Even if tonight the waves were palpable enough to make her hairs stand on end. Oh, no, please.

Nothing could ruin tonight. More than a party, this event would determine her future. And after three years of grief, she’d never allow anything to trap her in its clutches again.

Joss adjusted the golden leaves in her honey-colored hair. Amazingly still in place, her boring shoulder-length locks swept into a passable French twist. Relief escaped in a laugh. “Good thing. I can’t spend another hour transforming myself.”

On a tight budget, the cream top and skirt cinched with a golden scarf, and bronze eye shadow and lipstick sufficed to complete her outfit.

Her new neighbors would start arriving soon. Or so she hoped, if they’d accepted her invitation to the Halloween party.

Taz tilted his head, and she patted it. “I know. Some golden goddess, huh?” Way to make a first impression. No goddesses in mythology books were middle-aged. At least, none she remembered anyway. Maybe a few widows among them, the status adding to their power. But not her. After John died, she’d struggled for three years to gather herself together, move her life forward, sell her home, and buy this old bed and breakfast to renovate into an inn. A chance to surround herself with people, make herself useful. Needed.

The dog whipped his head toward the window, then ran and stood against the sill to yip.

Drawn by what appeared in the fields beyond, Joss followed. “Shh,” she whispered, half afraid to disturb them. Or call attention to herself.

Tiny flickering lights bobbed and weaved in the darkness. Too late in the year for fireflies, but if anyone mentioned the unusual activity, she might pawn that off as the excuse, though she knew better. Had known the truth her entire life.

“They must feel the energy too.” As usual, they probably discerned her presence as deeply as she did theirs. Awed by the sheer number of them, she watched in silence. What had gotten into her, planning a Halloween party? On All Hallow’s Eve, the one night when spirits stirred from beyond. When invisible doors between realms opened and allowed normally dormant beings, both light and dark, to return to this world. The very sort of weirdness she’d spent the last two decades trying to keep out of her life.

Headlights flashed across the back field as a car swung down the long driveway, erasing the flickering glow.

Joss squared her shoulders. “Too late now. It’s already begun.”

The foreboding words chilled Joss, though it began long before tonight. She’d known the first day she’d set eyes on the property in September by the still-vibrant gardens, filled with flowers that should have gone to seed by then. More importantly, it resonated in her bones. Beneath this ground. And they visited nearly every night.

She shook off her wariness. “Let’s go. It’s probably Annie.” Her friend had already spent all day preparing the tempting treats for the party.

With a woof, Taz led the way down the hall, Joss close behind his long, fringed tail. He nosed open the swinging door to the kitchen. By the time she peered out the back door, the car’s trunk had popped open. Annie climbed out, flew to the back, and loaded containers into her arms.

Joss hurried outside. “Hey Annie, let me help.”

“Great.” Annie stacked trays in her arms and smiled at the dog trotting past toward the field. “Hello to you, too, Mr. Taz.”

“He’s on a mission.” For the second time, her own words hit hard. Did her dog commune with them? He seemed drawn to the fields whenever they appeared.

“So am I.” Annie cackled with a definite witchy air.

At the sight of the myriad of food containers and aluminum warmers, Joss halted, uncertain where to start. “You’ve outdone yourself. We’ll have enough to feed the entire town.”

Her friend worked efficiently, lining up everything on the counter, then lighting the sterno beneath the warming trays. Joss could almost believe Annie’s witch outfit wasn’t a costume, but instead revealed her true magic as a chef.

“That’s the idea.” Annie kept working as she spoke. “Reel ’em in tonight and dazzle their taste buds so they’ll fill up our dinner calendar for the rest of the year.”

Her friend nailed it. The inn—and Joss—depended on tonight’s success. “Tell me what I can do.”

“Besides charming our guests?” Annie gave her a quick once-over. “Love the costume, by the way.”

A humorless laugh burst out. Hopefully, she could contribute more than charm, otherwise the inn was doomed. “Yours, too. I’ll do my best to be a hostess goddess, but before anyone arrives, I’m going to make myself useful. Put me to work.”

Pausing, Annie aimed her steadfast grin at Joss. “We’re going to make this work, you know.”

A sudden lump in her throat prevented Joss from answering. Instead, she nodded.

In three steps, Annie stood in front of her, hands clasping her shoulders. “We will.”

“I know. At least the kitchen’s in good shape.” Unlike the rest of the house. Joss couldn’t help thinking of the mountain of work ahead.

“Okay, so the inn’s a fixer-upper.” Annie shrugged. “You knew that going in. We’ll remake this old Victorian into the gem of Boiling Springs. Right?”

She drew Annie into a quick embrace. “I love you.”

“I love you too, hon. Now, grab a pair of oven mitts and carry those servers into the dining room. People will be arriving soon.”

Shaking off the gloomy mood, she set to work. After relocating the third tray of food, Joss returned to the kitchen.

“I almost forgot.” Annie rummaged in her handbag and drew out a disc. “Pop this CD in the player. Not exactly “Monster Mash,” but it’ll set a spooky mood.”

“Great. I tried to find some suitable music, but wasted too much time searching through boxes. I have to finish unpacking.” Joss hurried to the front parlor and inserted it into the stereo. Strains of a crisp violin solo filled the room, a haunting melody she could easily imagine hearing through the misty forests of Transylvania. Right before the vampire attack. Perfect.

Humming along, she double-checked the beverage setup. She didn’t mind the peeling wallpaper or the cobwebs in the corner so much anymore. They set a great atmosphere. And like tonight, would soon be a memory. Starting her life over might present a challenge, but Joss intended to give it a hell of a try.

The first chime of the doorbell caused her stomach to flutter. “Oh, dear.”

A squee echoed from the kitchen and grew louder as Annie flew to her side in such a rush, the resulting breeze twirled the paper bats strung along the ceiling. Flashing two thumbs up, she jerked her head toward the front door. “Let them in. We’re ready.”

Ready as Joss would ever be. She mustered a smile and froze it there, then marched to the foyer. A quick check in the mirror, a primp of the scarlet and black flowers on the table below it, and she inhaled deeply, set a smile on her face and opened the door. “Happy Halloween.”

For three years, her dog Taz had been her main companion, but now strangers arrived in waves. Costumed as witches and vampires, cowboys and clowns, guests meandered through the front room as more entered.

Remember, be the goddess hostess. She widened her smile. “Welcome to Lavender Hill Inn. Please help yourself to refreshments in the dining room.”

Passing with a nodded hello, they formed a polite line to the food table. Some wandered across the foyer to the front room again, clutching their drinks, eyeing the door as if ready to bolt. That is, when they weren’t eyeballing the worn carpeting or the dim light fixtures straining to eke out a glow. Or scrutinizing her. Most of them probably came to ogle the woman foolish enough to buy the broken-down B and B.

She forced herself to the center of the parlor. “I’m Jocelyn Gibson. I’m so happy you’ve joined our celebration tonight. Please let me know if you need anything.”

No response, not even the chirp of crickets. That reminds me. She needed a brass one for the hearth. For luck. Too bad she hadn’t bought one in time for the party. The silence of two dozen guests grew unnerving. “Isn’t the food delicious? Annie Wilkens is a magician in the kitchen.”

Nods. Whew, an ice breaker. Well, maybe an ice cube. Everyone in town knew Annie, a lifelong Boiling Springs resident. Joss counted herself lucky the day they’d met at middle school summer camp, a friendship more solid than any she’d known despite attending different schools in neighboring towns.

Crumbs lined an older man’s lips as he chewed. “Is she your cook now?”

“Yes, Annie’s the chef for Lavender Hill Inn.”

Sitting on the wingback chair, he grunted. “I like the pulled pork she makes for our summer festival.”

Joss clasped her hands. “She has some fantastic menus planned.”

Hushed ohs rippled through the room.

“I can’t wait for you to try them. After we finish renovating, of course.” She wondered if her facial muscles would give out trying to maintain a cheery expression.

Conversations began in muted tones, then grew louder. Joss strolled around the room, offering to refill drinks, fetch more food. Anything to keep busy.

The doorbell chimed, and Joss excused herself from her guests. She pulled open the door and slumped in relief. “Aunt Lydia. Thank goodness.” If anyone could enliven the party, it was her.

Her aunt entered with a flourish. A silken orange and red skirt and shawl set off her auburn hair. She swept past Joss, then halted abruptly, palms open to the air, eyes wide as she circled the foyer. She stopped long enough at the entryway to the front room, then the dining room, to scan inside with a look of concentration and awe.

Joss braced herself. Lydia must sense it too. The undeniable vibrations sizzling up from the earth.

As if she hadn’t noticed Joss before, her aunt’s loud greeting carried across the foyer. “Jocelyn, my dear.” Lydia rushed toward her with open arms and crushed her against her ample bosom, then held her at arm’s length. “I’m not late, am I?” Her aunt relived her theater days in any crowd.

“No, you’re right on time.” To save this party from an early death. Her aunt had offered to give readings, certain to entertain some people.

Lydia’s hands went to her heart when she noticed the grandfather clock. “You kept it. I’m so glad.”

“I’ll never part with it.” How could she? Hand carved by her grandfather for Gram, it displayed the correct time, but never chimed the right hour. Not since… The realization struck. Since I married John and turned my back on them. And, her family had accused, real love.

“Darling, when you first told me about your purchase, I thought you’d gone mad. Buy a ramshackle bed and breakfast? But oh”—Lydia clasped her hands, her smile self-assured—“now that I’m here, I know.”

“It doesn’t look like much now, but some refinishing will make the inn good as new.” Glimpsing the sagging wallpaper, Joss withheld a wince. “Well, almost.”

Leaning close, her aunt murmured, “The energy drew you here. It’s palpable. You must be careful. Others will be drawn here seeking to tap into its force too.”

A curious warning. “What do you mean?”

Trembling, Lydia grabbed Joss’s arm tight.

This was no act. “What’s wrong?”

Closing her eyes, Lydia moaned. “Oh, it’s…overwhelming.”

“What is?” In alarm, Joss squeezed her aunt’s quaking hand. “Aunt Lydia? Is something wrong?”

As the door opened, Lydia opened her eyes. Gusts of warm wind blew inside, gaining in intensity. They riffled through the black and scarlet flowers on the foyer table, danced with the candlelight until it flickered, and whirled the paper decorations.

The grandfather clock began to chime, echoing like gongs through the entryway. Shimmering white lights swarmed inside and filled the room. They played across the walls and ceiling as if reflecting a thousand tiny mirrors.

Or like a flock of glowing wild creatures breaking in to wreak havoc.

The fae. It took Joss’s breath away to see them enter her home. Only once before had she witnessed such an event. The grandfather clock struck again and again. Was she imagining it, or did the chimes grow louder?

The shining figures flew everywhere, though no one else appeared to notice. Except for Taz, who pricked his ears and trotted along with the shining display, barking happily.

From the dark porch, a man in black emerged and stood in the foyer. Behind the matching eye mask, his gaze darted to follow the lights. He pushed the door shut and the air stilled. The shimmering figures flocked to the windows in the front room and disappeared.

On the last strike of the clock, everything returned to normal.

“Seven o’clock,” Joss murmured. The right time.

“Him.” Lydia’s husky voice ground out the word.

Joss didn’t need her aunt to tell her this man was different than most. Since moving into the B and B two weeks ago, she’d found herself repeatedly drawn to the window for another reason besides the fae—the veterinary practice across the road. A cloud of emotions roiled above his house like a summer storm, a confusing swirl of auras: grief and longing, anger and loneliness. All emanating from the man who owned the property.

Eric Hendricks. A widower, Annie had told her. Handsome enough to be a movie star, but ruined, she’d warned, by his wife’s tragic loss. He never socialized. People said his curt manner was an unfortunate side effect of grieving.

Annie was dead-on about his looks. Through the black eye mask, Eric’s steely glance pierced Joss’s, his brow furrowed beneath a tangle of dark hair. His intense assessment shocked her to a halt, electrifying as a Taser to her nervous system. He walked toward Joss in what seemed like altered time. Capturing her gaze, his gait slowed. Heat twined through her like a wisp of smoke above smoldering embers, crackling to life.

She wasn’t ready for that type of burn yet.

* * * *

Such a fool. Eric should have dressed the part—clown, jester, harlequin. In the plain black outfit, he probably appeared more conspicuous rather than less. He was clueless about how to assemble a costume. The cheap face mask had caught his eye on a quick stop to the pharmacy for vitamins, and he’d tossed it in with the other items without thinking.

Everything leading up to this moment, in fact, he’d done without thought. He’d simply gotten dressed and driven here as if he’d planned to, when he had no intention of attending. Costume parties made him uncomfortable. Even at regular parties without a disguise, his throat grew dry, his brain function slowed, and appropriate replies occurred to him long after the conversation ended. Yet here he was, standing in the foyer of the bed and breakfast, awkward as a teenager at the prom.

In utter contrast, there stood his new neighbor Jocelyn Gibson, angelic in creamy white and gold. Looking at him with wonder and surprise. Probably thinking him a lunatic. He’d glimpsed her a few times in passing the old place. What would make a single woman want such a Victorian horror? Perfect for Halloween, at least.

Inhaling a reinforcing breath, Eric moved stiffly in her direction. A few minutes, he’d stay. No longer. Then he’d slip out, he hoped with less fanfare than he’d arrived.

Strange. The gust of wind had come on unexpectedly. Swept up the fireflies from outside and carried them into the house, swarming in front of him like a glimmering cloud. Everywhere else in the area, fireflies died out weeks ago. Around the inn, they concentrated every night. Funny, no one but Jocelyn Gibson and the woman standing beside her seemed to notice. And the border collie mix.

To his dismay, she glided toward him. Paralyzed by nerves, he could only stare as she approached. Candlelight caught the gilded leaves woven through her hair, the golden chains at her wrists. Her white tunic, leggings and split skirt revealed enough of her curves to tantalize him to distraction.

A few steps away, she halted. “You’re here.”

Even in the dim light, she had a glow about her.

“You’re luminous.” He snapped his mouth shut to stem the flow of any more errant thoughts.

Rose tinged her golden face. “It’s the glitter makeup. You’re Dr. Hendricks, aren’t you?”

“Right. Eric.” Tonight, he wished he were someone else. A man with no history who could start fresh, not mired in the past.

“It’s good to meet you. I’m Joss Gibson.”

He searched for something witty to say, something to ease the awkwardness. In the five years since his wife’s accident, the most he’d said to a woman was hello. They’d already covered that.

“Everything looks great.” Except for the woman in the short white dress covered with bright red hearts. Staring at him. Wait, wasn’t she the diner waitress, Sheree? What the hell was she supposed to be, a clown?

Lifting her chin, Joss smiled. “Tonight’s party is kind of a last hurrah for the old girl before we start renovations.”

“Oh.” He’d never been one for small talk, and never was the fact more painfully obvious to him than now.

Joss’s smile wavered. “You don’t approve?”

“It’s not that.” Right now, he approved of most everything about her.

Before he could explain, the tall, older woman reappeared next to Joss. Her auburn hair fought the red of her lips, pursed as her gaze cut into him with sharp assessment. She gave a tsk, and in a throaty voice, said, “Oh, my.”

Joss shot her a warning glance. “Aunt Lydia, this is Dr. Eric Hendricks.”

“Doctor.” Her aunt’s tone caressed the word like a favorite pet.

He extended his hand. “A veterinarian. Nice to meet you.”

Encasing his hand in hers, she turned it over and traced a finger across the center of his palm. “Oh, yes. Come with me.” Turning, she tugged him through the crowd.

With Frankenstein steps, he rigidly followed. Glancing back at Joss gave him no reassurance. Frowning, she might have been irritated with him or her aunt, he couldn’t tell.

They passed underneath paper bats fluttering from the hallway ceiling. Small carved pumpkins leered at him with crooked fiery smiles from atop book shelves.

Sheree turned as he passed. “Eric? Where are you going?”

Good question. It seemed futile, but he had to ask. “Where are we going?”

“The future awaits those who dare to seek it,” Lydia said over her shoulder.

Future? His life had ground to a halt five years ago.

Near a small wooden table holding cards and a candle, she dropped his hand and plopped onto the chair. “Please sit.” She waved toward the chair opposite, scooped up the cards and handed them to him.

A sigh and he sat. Might as well. Cooperating would at least hurry this along so he could disappear into the crowd again. Or out the door.

“Clear your mind and shuffle the cards.” She gestured toward the deck.

He did as she asked and set them on the table.

“Fan them out,” she said, “and then select five cards.”

Surely, she didn’t intend for him to take this seriously. He slipped five from the rest. “I don’t—”

“Shhh.” Concentrating on the cards as she laid them out, her eyes widened.

At her audible gasp, he leaned closer. “Something wrong?” He tilted his head to read their titles: The Tower. Judgment. The Fool. The Lovers. The Moon.

Lydia nodded like a statue of a coin-fed fortune-teller. “Oh.” She leaned closer. “Oh, my. Most unusual.”

He tensed. “What?” What sort of trickery was she up to?

Her voice softened. “You’ve been through an ordeal. Rest assured your loneliness will soon end. Great happiness awaits after a terrible trial.”

His gut churned. “You don’t know what you’re saying.” The accident ripped his happiness away when it took Karen. Nothing could be worse than that.

“Of course, I do. I’m never wrong.” Lydia’s gaze slid to the room’s entrance.

Joss spoke with Charlie Fulton dressed in painter’s overalls. Some costume. But then, next to her, anyone would appear silly.

Lydia rested her palms against the table. “Tonight is a fateful night.”

The ominous statement settled over him like a mist. Fate had never been kind to him before. “Why?”

She leaned forward, candlelight sparking in her brown eyes. “Your life is on the verge of great change toward a destiny you cannot avoid. Finding your true soul mate.” She spoke as if revealing a great secret.

The words pierced his heart. “No.”

“Oh, yes. The cards indicate it here.” She splayed her hands across the cards.

A parlor trick, nothing more. A reminder he didn’t need. “I have to go.”

Pushing away from the table, he strode to Joss, who poured green liquid into the punch bowl. He’d approached her with the intention of bidding her good night and getting the hell out of there. Instead, he asked, “What is that?”

After ladling some into a glass, she held it up. Wisps of smoke curled up from the drink. “Taste it and find out.”

More than the drink tempted him. “It looks dangerous.” But its citrus scent enticed him. His fingers closed around hers, and the tiniest jolt sparked through his hand, like deadened tissue reanimated.

Alarm crossed her face as she slipped her hand away. “Appearances can be deceiving.”

Did she know his costume hid a damaged man? Wincing, he sipped. His taste buds danced in delight at the refreshing fizzy liquid.

Her focus concentrated on his mouth and her smile returned. “Good, isn’t it?”

Unlike his evening. The way she watched him drink unsettled him. Awakened parts of him that, for the last five years, languished in a numbing, deep freeze. The shock of returning to life overwhelmed him. “Your aunt shouldn’t play at things she doesn’t know.” Neither should he. This woman was obviously out of his league.

Her shoulders stiffened. “My aunt does know. She’s been reading tarot and palms since I was a girl.” She turned the corner and disappeared down the hall.

Now he’d insulted her family. He had to make her understand. Following, he caught her arm. “She shouldn’t meddle. Not where people’s private lives are concerned.” Her silky softness invited his touch. He became sharply aware of every detail about her. A loose strand of hair flowing against the graceful curve of her neck. Hazel eyes ablaze with a fire he couldn’t fathom, but ignited sparks, surging along his veins like a lit fuse. Every impulse urged him to press her against the wall and taste her golden skin. Explore her curves.

Her lips parted and hovered open for blissful seconds. “I’m sorry.”

Her whisper hit him like a gale-force wind. It broke whatever spell he was under, and he stepped back. “No. I am.” For coming here. Jesus, what the hell was wrong with him, grabbing her like that?

A glance to the other room revealed her aunt staring with an odd expression. Pity? Self-satisfaction?

He couldn’t get away fast enough.

Outside, he ripped away the mask and let it fall to the ground as he climbed in his truck. A fateful night, the aunt said. The only thing tonight portended was more social disaster. A destiny he seemed doomed to relive over and over.

 

 

 

The sting remained with Joss long after Eric fled the inn. Deep-rooted pain emanated from him when he’d first entered, and his palm against her arm sent an electric shock straight to her bones. The poor man. Grief kept him its prisoner. Joss understood how easy it was to fall into that dark trap. The way he’d held her, he sought escape. Comfort.

He awakened deep-seated sensations in her. In the few moments with him, she’d felt more alive than she had in three years.

So strange. Normally, one look allowed her to see the person inside. With Eric Hendricks, her receptivity went into overload. His soul, pent up for years, stirred to life and churned up love, fear, joy, hopelessness, yearning, jumbled and shifting faster than light. He displayed great strength in his firm stance and gentle touch. Beneath a hard veneer of sheer pain, one other trait came through clearly—purity of spirit, and integrity enough for many men.

The arrival of more guests drew Joss to the foyer again. Another matronly witch and an older man wearing a checked flannel shirt, jeans, and boots stepped inside, followed by a princess and a boy in a fabric turtle shell.

Joss recognized the girl as one of the riders whose horse was boarded at the inn’s stable. After greeting them and pointing them toward refreshments, she returned to Lydia. “Sorry about Dr. Hendricks.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s wonderful you have so many guests.” Lydia fingered the flowers in the vase on the table.

One woman stood in the archway to the front room, her bright-eyed glare directed at Joss. Wearing a short white shift adorned with large red hearts, the woman held a wand topped with a glittering red heart.

Confused by the woman’s malevolence, Joss approached and fought to overcome the negativity oozing from her. “Did you try some of the booscotti?”

The woman tilted up her chin. “I’m not hungry, Mrs. Gibson,” came her familiar nasal reply.

Recognition finally hit.. . .