Sun God Seeks…Surrogate?

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  “Maaskab.”

  “Fine. Whatever.”

  “Originally, they were a group of Mayan priests who worshipped the dark arts. They pillaged, murdered, and raped, all in the name of their holy quest to gain power. Eventually, their bloodlust triggered the collapse of the Mayan civilization. Today, they are a thousand times stronger and have their sights set much higher.”

  Oh shit! And they want me? Me! WTF! Why me? There are, like, what? Seven billion people on the planet. So why me?

  I popped out of the water, unable to contain the need to run like a fat little rabbit about to be gobbled down by a hungry wolf. “Please tell me this is joke!”

  Nick’s body froze. His eyes wandered leisurely south from my face. “I…I…for gods’ sake woman, you’re so damned sexy.”

  I blinked and looked down at the sudsy clumps slinking down my bare skin, racing back to the pool of water below.

  “Oh!” I crossed my arms over the strategic parts. “Toss me a towel.” It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen my naked glory, but that didn’t mean he had a season pass.

  Nick remained motionless staring at my breasts.

  I dropped back into the water. “Towel?”

  “Sure.” He pointed to a neatly rolled stack near the sink in a wicker basket.

  “Funny. Can you toss one over?”

  He glanced at the towels and then back to me. A wicked little smile do-si-doed across his face. “Sorry. Fresh out of tosses.”

  I huffed in protest. “Fine. Then I’m staying put.”

  “Did I ever tell you that I have amazing stamina? I only require one or two hours of sleep each night—oh. Wait. Didn’t have to tell you. Because you’ve lived it. That’s right.”

  What? Smug son of a…“Neither of us is certain we ‘lived’ anything that night. And if we did, who’s to say you impressed me with your awesome stamina?”

  “Because there is no other possibility.”

  I made a little hiss. “You are so arrogant—”

  “Arrogant?” He winked. “Yes, I suppose it’s a gift.”

  “Nick. Please, either talk and get this over with or leave so I can get a towel. This isn’t funny.”

  The smile melted from his full lips—the full lips I dreamed about sucking and licking. The full lips that, perhaps, had done things to my body, in places and in ways no one had ever attempted.

  He stood up straight, and I noticed he was wearing a pair of white linen pants and a button-down shirt—the upper half strategically left open so that the hard ripples of his stomach peeked through the opening.

  God, he was delicious. Even his smell did it for me.

  He sat down on the edge of the tub and began swirling his finger in the water. “The temperature is cold. Let me heat it up for you.” Within moments, the water jumped ten degrees.

  “How did you do that?”

  His eyes focused on his swirling finger. “Another gift. There are fourteen of us, each with a set of unique abilities.”

  My eyes fixated on his exquisite, flawlessly masculine face. Maybe I hadn’t wanted to see it before, but looking closely, I noticed an odd radiance in his light brown skin. Even the golden highlights in his caramel brown hair seemed to sparkle with flecks of red and gold. And those eyes; when I peered into them, they shimmered with a thousand shades of turquoise, aquamarine, sky blue, and sherbet green.

  What was he? Whatever the answer, he couldn’t be human. No.

  “G—g—go on,” I mumbled.

  “This world is full of mysteries, Penelope. Life-forms of the most amazing sorts. Miracles of nature, of the universe; I am simply another one of those miracles.”

  Miracle?

  A miracle was walking on water or spontaneous healing. Or the fact Jersey Shore hadn’t been canceled yet. Or that a Fudgsicle was only five points.

  But if the word “miracle” was indicative of his species, then…

  “Oh my God, you’re an angel, aren’t you?”

  Kinich’s head snapped up. “Gods no! I’m a…a god. The God of the Sun. Angels are disturbingly fanatical with their do-gooding.” He made a sour, icky face.

  Did he just say…“God? Har har. Very funny.”

  He leaned over the edge of the tub, entrancing me with his hypnotic gaze. “Touch your nose.”

  My hand shot from the water and my index finger made contact with the tip of my nose. “How did you do that?”

  “I am a deity. I have gifts,” he stated blandly.

  “That was some mind trick. Come on, Nick, stop messing around.”

  “You’d believe I am an angel, but not a god?” He frowned.

  “I don’t know what to believe. I’m sitting naked in a tub being told that there’s another species sharing our planet.”

  “There are others, too,” he added. “That man who appeared in Helena and Niccolo’s living room, for example, is a vampire, as is Helena.”

  “Vampire?” I asked.

  “Correct,” he replied.

  “Seriously? Like, as in, people who drink blood, walk around in capes, and turn into bats?”

  “Bats, no. Capes are optional—Helena, for example, loves floral prints and Hello Kitty.”

  Sweet pickled demons on a Triscuit. I knew something was off about that family, especially that fangy little…“The baby, too?”

  “Yes,” he replied, “Matty is half vampire.”

  Did I want to ask what the other half was? I decided no. With my luck, it would be something over the top like hobbit.

  Vampire hobbits? Now, that’s just crazy talk, girlfriend!

  “However,” he continued, “these vampires are not evil. They are our allies.”

  I’d need to digest all this later; it was a teensy bit too much. “Peachy. Anything else?”

  “The Maaskab have joined up with a faction of evil vampires called Obscuros. They are planning a war against us. All of us. If they win, it will lead to the apocalypse.”

  Holy crappity-crap. “End of the world?”

  He nodded once.

  “You’re not joking, are you?”

  He shook his head no.

  I held up a finger. “Give me a sec.”

  Vampires are real. Those evil monsters are really some sort of priests who want to kill everyone. Kinich is a god. The Sun God. I’m sitting naked in the tub. Talking to a god. Of the sun. And I may have slept with him.

  Oh God.

  It was all making some sort of sad, sad sense in my mind. Kinich’s flash of light had been accompanied by intense heat when the monster had attacked him. And who could forget the heat I felt when I was near him?

  Ohhh, the heat of his body. I licked my lips. No wonder I couldn’t resist him, he was a real live god. He radiated sensuality.

  Then an odd question popped into my mind. “You didn’t use that mind control thing to get me to like you? Hey—did you say apocalypse? Dammit. Why can’t I think straight when I’m around you? It’s your mind control. Isn’t it? Oh crackers. I’m doing it again.”

  “Mind control? Don’t be absurd, woman. I mean, yes. I am gifted with such a skill, but why on earth would I use it in such a situation? Gods are like magnets to mortals. I merely walk into a room, and the females are mine for the taking. I also emit pheromones that interfere with your synapses. Makes you more compliant…But mind control, to make females want me? Never.”

  My mouth fell open. He’d been putting the god lust whammy on me the whole time? And there I’d been, prancing around like a lovesick moron. He probably got a huge kick out of it.

  “You disgusting! Scummy. Pig!” I burst from the tub and slapped him across the cheek.

  His eyes flared with silent rage, but he didn’t flinch. “What the devil was that for?”

  “That was for every woman you’ve ever taken advantage of with your lust whammy! I only wish I could slap you once for each of them, but I bet there are thousands, and I don’t want to spend one more minute with you, you…god-slut!”

  I swiped a tow
el from the basket and stormed from the bathroom to the walk-in closet. I’d left my clean clothes in the bathroom so I’d have to grab new ones. I dressed quickly and shoved the remainder of my belongings into my bag. No way was I going to hang out here. Not with him. Not after what he’d admitted.

  Nick knocked on the closet door. “Penelope, please listen.”

  “No! I’m not listening to you…you scumbag!”

  “I am not a scumbag.”

  I pulled my still-dripping hair into a ponytail and yanked open the door. “Really? Then what would you call a being such as yourself who uses his ‘gifts’ on innocent women?”

  He narrowed his eyes, and for a moment, I could swear flames danced across his pupils. “I do not use my powers to seduce women.”

  “You just admitted it!”

  He laughed. “Penelope Trudeau, you are jealous.”

  Oh, that—that is such…“Bullshit! Why would I be jealous?”

  Amused, he crossed his arms. “You must want me. Quite badly judging from your reaction.”

  Yes. Yes, I do. “Nooo. No! You’re the one who brought me here. And let’s remember, it was your crazy sister who pulled me into this train wreck you call a life!” I slammed the door in his face.

  Wait. If he were a god, would that make his crazy sister was a…?

  I grabbed the door handle and pulled. Nick stood inches from my body, staring down at me with a slow burn.

  “Is your crazy sister Cimil a goddess?” Please, say no. That would be so, so wrong for humanity.

  “Penelope, you need to listen to me. There is more I need to tell you—”

  “Answer me!”

  “Yes.”

  Great! Just great. The crazies are in charge.

  “Andrus, too?”

  “No. He was once a Demilord—a vampire taken to our realm and given the light of the gods. But now he is a demigod—his maker, the vampire queen, died and therefore his vampire blood died, too.”

  Huh? What were these people—um…deities—smoking? God crack?

  Grack?

  “You know that made zero sense. Right?” I pushed past him to grab my boots near the side of the bed. “But you know what? It doesn’t matter! You could be leprechauns with pots of gold, wanting to make me your queen. I don’t care. I don’t want anything to do with you, Nick!”

  I bent over to tie my shoes.

  “Leprechauns do not have a queen. And you are not leaving,” he said bluntly.

  “Why the hell not?” I barked.

  “Because they are nomads.”

  Wha-what?

  “I’m not even going to ask. But I am going to leave; the last time I checked, my wagon wasn’t hitched to yours, so I can do what I damn well like,” I seethed.

  “First, you are very upset. Second, it is not safe; the Maaskab want you, and they will not stop until they have you.”

  “Well,” I replied bitterly, “seeing that it’s my life, I think I get to make that choice for myself. By the way, big boy, I don’t need a mother! I already have one.”

  Oh no. My mother. I still hadn’t spoken with her.

  “Well,” he said coldly, “how would you like for the next time she sees you to be at your funeral? But there won’t be a body. I can guarantee it because the Maaskab won’t leave one behind. So you best accept that your…wagon is hitched to mine.”

  Damn this man…deity…“Get out! You man-whore!” I gave him the George Bush Iraqi salute. (I threw my shoe at him.) “Just—get out!”

  Nick held up his palms and bowed his head. “As you wish. But for the record,” he said as he turned to leave, “you are the only woman I have, perhaps, been with.” He closed the bedroom door behind him.

  Really? He’d never been with anyone? Him?

  My anger instantly melted.

  Then I gasped.

  It was true. I had been jealous. And now that he’d told me I was the only woman he’d “perhaps” been with, I wanted him even more. As irrational and childish as it was, I didn’t want to share him. I wanted to be the only woman—past, present, or future—in his life.

  I’m so confused. I burst into tears.

  Now, normally, I wasn’t a crier—or a lame shoe thrower—and didn’t waste a lot of time feeling sorry for myself, but the pressure valve needed a little workout or I’d flip.

  I saw my purse sitting on the dresser and practically dove for it. I dug out my cell and the piece of paper with the number for my mother’s clinic. I dialed and it finally rang.

  Oh, thank heavens.

  “Hi, my name is Penelope Trudeau. I’m calling for my mother, Julie?”

  The man spoke in clear-as-day English.

  “What do you mean, ‘wrong number’?” I asked, hiccuping and sniffling.

  I repeated the number. I had it right but there was no one there by my mother’s name. To make matters more unsettling, it was some bar named Fugly’s—yes, a Swedish bar named Fugly’s—not a medical clinic.

  The phone slipped from my hand. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t. What was going on? What was I going to do?

  Cry some more. Yeah, that will feel gooood. I burst into tears once again. And whattaya know? I felt better! For ten whole seconds. Then I realized sobbing wouldn’t help me find my mother, and that I needed to apologize to Nick—OMG, a god? Really? And you called him a man-whore?—for acting like the giant ass that I was.

  What are you waiting for, Penelope? Groveling should be treated like a Band-Aid.

  I turned for the door and collided with a black leather wall. It was the enormous blond man, the vamp…the vamp…I couldn’t say or think the word.

  He studied me with his intense, deep blue eyes as if wondering what I might do so that he might decide what he might do.

  “I can save you from having to guess,” I stated quietly. “I was about to scream, but decided it’s useless.”

  “Good choice.” He swooped down, picked up my phone, and held up the screen. “The woman, who is she? I must know.”

  My mind ricocheted like a pinball. Now that I thought about it, the last time I’d seen my cell was when I’d slammed it into the side of this vamp—man’s face.

  “You put my phone back in my purse, didn’t you?”

  He nodded yes. “Who is she?” he asked again.

  Had he come all the way to Sedona specifically to give me back my phone and find out who my mother was?

  “Why are you asking? Aren’t you a…” Oh my God. Oh my God. I can’t say the word. I can’t say it. I wiped the tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand.

  “Yes. I am a vampire. My name is Viktor.”

  Oh thank goodness; someone said it.

  “Please,” he continued in a deep, lulling voice. “Penelope, I must know. Who. Is. The. Woman? Where can I find her?” Something in his eyes made me want to tell him.

  Mind control? These people were so, so not going on my Friends list.

  I felt the words involuntarily bubbling up. “She’s my mom. And she’s sick. Really sick. But I don’t know where she is. She’s supposed to be in a Swedish clinic, but she’s not—”

  He snatched the piece of paper I still held in my hand. His blue eyes turned the deepest, darkest black I’d ever seen. I stepped back.

  “Center for Immune Management and Integrative Lifestyles?” he said with a feral growl. “Fucking hell.”

  “What?” Why was he using the f-word? That was reserved for the direst of situations.

  Or the sexiest. Like the time when you dreamed that Kinich—

  Shut it, Pen! Idiot! Now is not the time to think of dirty-deity dancing.

  “Center. Immune. Management. Integrative. Lifestyles,” he repeated.

  I looked at him.

  He looked at me.

  I was lost.

  He was not.

  “C-I-M-I-L,” he stated.

  Oh fuck! “Cimil? She has my mother?”

  Viktor shook his head. “Not anymore.”

  “I don�
��t understand.”

  He ran his large hands through the length of his thick blond hair. “Whatever plans Cimil had for your mother, have been derailed. This, I am sure of.”

  “I still don’t follow. Where is she? What’s happened to her? How do you know all this?”

  I didn’t know Viktor or anything about his…people, but I could tell he was in a dark place with bad, bad thoughts, and the fact that my mother had anything to do with those bad, bad thoughts scared the hell out of me.

  He turned for the door looking smaller, defeated somehow. “I must speak with Kinich. Immediately.”

  “Wait! Tell me what the hell is going on!” I tried to follow but he was gone in a blink.

  Christ! Vampires were definitely not going on the Fav list.

  I followed the hallway past several vacant bedrooms until it hooked to the right and ended at a set of double oak doors. I was about to turn back, but caught a whiff of exotic flowers, fresh ocean air, sunshine, and fruit.

  I pushed open the doors, stepped inside, and inhaled like a junky getting a fix. Kinich.

  This had to be his room. Hanging over the headboard was a large sun made from hammered copper, and a freestanding bar stood in one corner next to a sitting area with a cozy, khaki-colored couch.

  Running water? I turned my head left and noticed a doorway with a glass wall to each side. Sheets of water flowed over the panes, disappearing into a gap in the floor, to create an aquatic privacy screen. Whatever kind of bathroom was on the other side, it had to be something spectacular.

  But despite the beautiful decorum and pre-Hispanic art adorning the walls, I became fixated on the nightstand. What did this deity keep in his drawers? Did he moisturize? After all, he was the Sun God—Demon crackers, gods can’t be real—but all that exposure to the sun’s power had to leave him chapped. Or maybe he read dirty magazines. What kind of women would he like?

  Definitely tanned women.

  I stepped toward the dresser.

  Penelope! Focus! Mom’s missing, remember?

  I gasped, realizing what was happening. His smell was an instant ditz-ifier. God crack!

  Grack!

  I scrambled from his room and backtracked down the brightly lit hallway until I found Kinich and Viktor arguing in the living room.

  “I have never in my existence asked the gods for anything,” Viktor disputed. “I have served. I have been loyal and obeyed. I have suffered. And now I make this one request, Kinich.”