Vampires Need Not...Apply? (31 page)

“Right now,” Penelope said, “about a hundred. This is where we keep detainees until we decide what to do with them—rehabilitate, put on trial, or, in the case of Belch, keep him confined until he promises to put his pants back on. He once spent a month in here.”

Kinich chuckled. “He never was a fan of clothing.”

This was a very odd, odd group of beings.

“Hi, guys.”

All three turned and saw a young redheaded woman sitting outside a cell.

“Emma!” Penelope embraced the woman who looked like she’d seen better days—deep circles under her eyes, hollow cheeks, and a melancholy smile. “This in Antonio Acero. Antonio, this is Emma Keane; her fiancé is Guy Santiago, also known as Votan, the God of Death and War.”

They shook hands briefly, and now more than ever he felt the sting of being unable to open the portal and rescue the trapped men. “I’m sorry about the situation and not being able to free your fiancé—”

“It’s all right, Antonio. Penelope already told me everything Maggie said. I know we were barking up the wrong tree.” Emma spoke as though she’d already lost hope.

Penelope reached out and held her hand. “We’ll get him back, I promise. In fact, that’s why we’re here.” Her eyes flashed toward the cell in the far corner.

Emma looked like she understood. “Good luck with that.”

Antonio suddenly caught a mental whiff of something delicious. “Hmmm…” There standing on other side of the bars, where Emma had just been sitting, was an elderly woman in a blue jumpsuit. Her head had been shaved and her skin looked like it had been scrubbed raw. Her black-and-red eyes drilled into him and he couldn’t resist licking his lips.

Emma flashed a glance over her shoulder. “Are you drooling over my grandmother?”

He nodded yes.

Emma hissed. “Seriously?”

“Emma’s grandmother is a Maaskab,” Penelope explained. “We’re holding her until the next summit meeting so we can discuss a cure for her.”

“Hey! Hey! Over here! You’re late!”

“Ah. There’s Cimil,” Penelope said with contempt. “I’ll be right back, Emma. Wish us luck…” She gave Emma a quick hug and whispered, “It will all be over soon.”

Would it be? He wasn’t so sure.

Antonio and Penelope followed Kinich to a large cell in the corner.

Cimil stood on the other side of a thick glass window, waving. She wore hot-pink pajama pants and a pink bathrobe. Her flaming-red hair was pulled into pigtails. Hannibal Lecter had nothing on her.

“Can I just say, for starters”—Cimil pulled up a giant fluffy beanbag chair and plopped down right in front of the window—“this is the best vacay ever! I love winning stuff.”

Penelope, Kinich, and Antonio exchanged glances. She couldn’t be serious. Could she?

“Cimil,” Kinich said with a stern warning in his voice, “we need to talk, so cut the shit.”

Cimil popped open her robe and flashed her T-shirt: “Shit is my middle name. Except on Wednesdays when I speak Klingon, then it’s baktag.”

“Funny, Cimil. Very funny.” Kinich placed his palms against the glass and leaned in. “What do you want?”

Cimil smiled, her bright turquoise eyes twinkling. “
Moi?
Want something? You came to see me. So what do
you
want?”

Kinich narrowed his eyes.

“Well, I suppose I do want
something
,” she said. “A new pony would be nice. Roberto drank mine; he thought it was an offering. I’d also like world peace. Or whirled peas. Either-or. Both are fun. And then there’s that little matter of—”

“Enough!” Antonio could take no more. “If you say one more ridiculous, fucking thing, so help me, I will break through this glass and pluck out your eyes.”

Cimil sprang from her beanbag chair, clapping with excitement. “Oh! Pluck, Pluck, Eyeball is my favorite game!” She looked at Penelope. “It’s like Duck, Duck, Goose… but with eyeballs!”

Antonio slammed his fist into the glass, but it bounced right off. He’d kill this deity if it was the last thing he did.

“Don’t waste your strength, Antonio,” said Kinich. “The glass in these cells are deity reinforced—unbreakable.”

“But Cimil is a deity. Can’t she use her powers to get out?”

“The cells are also warded. No energy can permeate the cell. Nothing gets in or out.” He pointed to a small speaker embedded in the wall to the side of the glass. “Not even sound; we use an intercom system.”

I guess it’s her lucky day, then.

“Cimil,” Penelope said sweetly, “please? I’m sure you already know why we’re here. So what do you really want?”

Cimil froze; her face, expression, and eyes went blank.

Penelope snapped her fingers. “Cimil? Hello?”

Cimil’s eyes moved to Antonio. “I’m not going to help you with the demon.”

Antonio growled. “Why the hell not?”

Penelope touched Antonio’s arm signaling for him to give her a chance. “Cimil, we know you must want something. So spit it out,” she said.

Cimil’s gaze was nearly catatonic. “I want a fair trial.”

“And what do we get in exchange?” Antonio asked.

“Nothing. I will not help you with the demon.”

“Why not?” Penelope asked.

“Because you don’t need my help. You simply need to choose.”

Antonio felt the blood drain from his face. “Do you mean I have to choose between Ixtab or my brother’s life?”

“Or perhaps your own.” Cimil winked and sat down in her chair, her gaze utterly vegetative.

Penelope snapped her fingers again. “Cimil? Cimil?” She looked at Kinich and shrugged.

“Gods dammit, answer me!” Antonio demanded.

“She’s done talking,” Kinich said and pulled him back.

“What the hell do you mean, ‘She’s done talking’? I’m not done.” No, he was just getting started. “Open that fucking cell.”

Kinich flashed his palms. “Trust me, if I believed letting you take a few bites out of Cimil would help the situation, I’d let you in there. But she is a deity.”

“So that means she does not need to pay for her crimes?” Cimil had lured him to the tablet and the tablet had taken away Ixtab.

“No, Antonio, it means she’s immortal and there’s nothing
you
can do to harm her. She will get what she deserves. The gods will see to that,” Kinich said, his turquoise eyes turning to a deep, dark gray.

Cimil mumbled, “Everyone will get what they deserve.”

What the hell did that mean?

Antonio ran his hands through his hair. This was going nowhere fast and he was no closer to getting Ixtab free. Perhaps it was time to take matters into his own hands.

No more Mr. Nice-ubus. Or was that… Mr. Nice-u-pire?

* * *

“What the hell are you doing here?” Maggie hissed through the open doorway, holding a fresh towel to her body.

“Relax. I only came to talk,” Antonio said.

“I’m done talking. At least until it’s time to free Chaam.” She pushed the door closed.

“Wait.” He wedged his foot in the crack. “Please… I am.”
Qué joder.
“I. Am. Begging you.”

Margaret stared up at him for a few moments and then sighed. “All right. Come in.”

“Thank you.”

Margaret disappeared through the bathroom doorway without a word.

Antonio entered the spacious bedroom and sat down in the small sitting area in the corner.

“Everything here”—she emerged from the bathroom wearing a robe and a towel on her head—“is incredible. Did you know they have a computer screen in the bathroom that can play music, control the temperature of your bathwater, give a weather forecast, and make phone calls?”

Yes. The wealth and opulence of the deities put even his family to shame, although his father had been more into the sort of luxury that attracted females: a yacht in the French Riviera, the penthouse suite in Monte Carlo, private planes. If his father weren’t a life-sucking, coldhearted demon, he might actually consider the guy fun—during his earlier days, anyway. His prior lifestyle of drowning his sorrows and bedding women no longer interested him.

Now there was only one woman he wanted to bed. And the irony was he couldn’t have her.

Not yet, anyway.

Maybe never, she might not forgive you even if you do free her.

“It must be hard adjusting to the changes,” he said.

She sat across from him, a demure look on her face. She was actually quite lovely now that he looked. Pale skin, freckles on her nose, wide brown eyes. It was difficult to believe she was over one hundred years old.

“Being back isn’t as bad as you think,” she explained. “I didn’t have any family apart from my father, so in a way, I’m returning to what I left behind: nothing. I suppose it was a blessing not having to worry about anyone while I was trapped. Except for Chaam, anyway.”

“How is he?”

Sadness filled her eyes. “I don’t know. I can’t see him now that I’m free. I only hope we’ll reach him in time—and that Ixtab can cure him.”

“About that,” he said. “I need to tell you there’s a problem.”

“Horsefeathers. They’re letting Cimil out, aren’t they?”

Antonio shook his head no. “She refused to help me. If we open that portal, my father will be released. His body is about to give out, which means he will require a new one, and he intends to take my brother’s. Obviously, I can’t let that happen. I won’t give up his life for Ixtab’s.” Dammit. This situation was impossible.

“No. You’re wrong, Antonio,” she said. “I heard him speaking to Cimil—I kept a very close eye on her—he intends to take
your
body.”

His body? A vampire? “I didn’t think that was possible. Are you sure?” he asked.

“I heard the conversation a day before you showed up to your father’s house. He believes that Ixtab belonged to him. He wanted your body so he could finally be with her. That’s why the Maaskab were there, to help with the transfer—in exchange for getting the tablet back, of course. Could you imagine? Maaskab with the ability to time travel? They’d be able to do anything they liked.”

Antonio was no longer listening to Margaret. Because now the cold truth of the situation had just turned into an inhabitable tundra of despair. He could save Ixtab in exchange for his own life. He would be the next host, not his brother, if the demon got out.

“Are you all right?” Margaret asked. “Antonio?”

He nodded slowly. “I didn’t know.” He looked up at her. “I didn’t know he wanted me.”
So that’s what Cimil meant when she said I’d have to choose.

“I’m sorry.”

“At least I no longer have to choose between her and my brother. If the choice is giving up my life to save her, then I choose her. I will always choose her.”

Margaret’s eyes teared up. “You’re a good man, Antonio.”

Not anymore… Now, he’d be a dead man—or cease to exist, anyway—and leave behind the only person he’d ever truly loved without having the chance to tell her.

“Margaret?”

“Yes?”

“How do I open the portal?”

She stared for a moment, clearly thinking over her response. “I think we should wait until we’re in Mexico. When Chaam is released, we open the portal for Ixtab. Otherwise, I have no guarantee they’ll free him.”

Antonio stood up. “Ixtab will make sure that Chaam is freed, Margaret. She would not double-cross you because she’s good. I’ve never met anyone like the woman—so willing to sacrifice herself for the happiness of others.”

Funny. Now that he thought about it, why was she the Goddess of Suicide? Ixtab wasn’t depressing or morbid. She was sexy, quirky, and strong. She was happy and wanted nothing more than the same for others. And wasn’t happiness one of her gifts? So why wasn’t she the Goddess of Happiness?
Caray
, if they got through this, he’d lobby the gods for a name change. She didn’t deserve such a horrible title.

Margaret’s eyes reflected her concern. “I don’t know.”

“Please, Margaret. Please tell me how. I know you want Chaam back, but you have to remeber this mess is Cimil’s doing, not anyone else’s. Now she’s behind bars, and the truth has been exposed. It is over. You’ve played your hand and done your part. Now the rest of us need to do ours.”

“I can’t risk it,” she said.

“Do you want me to beg? Because I will. Whatever it takes.” He lowered himself and kneeled on the floor in front of her.

Margaret hissed. “Stop. Don’t do that. You’re breaking my heart. I’ll tell you…”

Antonio sprang from his seat, grabbed her shoulders, and picked her up to embrace her.

“Whoa, there, vampire.” She wiggled in his arms. “I think”—she grunted her words—“you’re forgetting how strong you are.”

“My apologies.” Antonio set her down.

She secured her robe and smiled. “To open the tablet, you must make a sacrifice.”

“Sacrifice?”
Diablos.
He’d have to kill someone?

“And it must be in the name of true love,” she added.

Qué?
“You know that sounds like a fairy-tale cliché, don’t you?” His mind started formulating how a sacrifice made specifically in the name of love would have any scientific bearing. Simply put, the tablet’s atoms reacted to external stimuli and energy patterns, so could this mean that love, an emotion, had its own frequency?

“Yes. But it’s true,” she said. “It’s how I ended up trapped. My father had been trying to open the portal, hoping to bring my mother back from the dead. He was about to tear out Itzel’s heart—he must’ve translated the word
sacrifice
on the tablet and thought killing someone was the key to its power—when Chaam found him. I know my father was mad, his soul past the point of redemption, which meant Chaam was obligated to kill him on the spot for the good of humanity. That’s their law. Then I showed up, and Chaam had to choose between killing my father right in front of me or serving his duty. Somehow, and I don’t know how, but Chaam resisted his hardwiring to put his duty first. He broke his bond with the Universe to save me from the pain of watching my father’s death.”

“You said he killed him anyway.”

She nodded. “Yes. Chaam’s decision, his sacrifice to negate his duty opened the portal, but it didn’t change the fact that my father had turned evil. My father went for Itzel’s heart. Chaam stopped him just in time.”