I pointed and screamed at the top of my lungs.
The Maaskab raised his arms and tossed a black jar in the water. And at that exact moment, time moved in slow motion.
Nick’s eyes, glowing and red, locked on my face while his hand reached behind and latched onto the Maaskab’s ankle. “In halach puczical, in uchucil, ca kaxah yokolcab ichi pixan,” Nick whispered.
It felt like I’d been struck by a bolt of lightning. Then, I saw him. Kinich. Not the image perceived with my eyes, but his essence, his light. It branded itself on my very soul.
Before I knew it, the Maaskab’s body turned to ash and landed in a pile on the ground. Kinich slumped over in the water.
“Oh my God! Kinich? Kinich!” I pulled his face from the water and slapped his pale cheeks. He didn’t respond. “Help!” I screamed.
I hooked him under the arms and maneuvered his large body over to the pool’s steps. I heaved and pulled and blubbered hysterically, but none of that—especially the blubbering—made a difference; he was so damned heavy, all I could do was inch him halfway out of the water.
“Did ya actually have tae go and break the man, lass?”
A rather tall, burly man with long, red hair, and wearing a kilt, stared down with amusement.
I didn’t know who he was, but he wasn’t a Maaskab, and that was good enough for me.
“Oh my God. Help! I think he’s dead!”
He gave a hearty chuckle. “Oh now, lass, they cannae die. Those immortal buggers are like roaches—cannot get rid ’o them. And believe me, I’ve tried.”
“No! I’m serious. One of those Maaskab just showed up and threw something in the water.”
The man squinted at the bobbing black jar. “Ah. So he has.” He scratched his chin. “Well now, not to worry; we’ll get him out ’o there and he’ll be like new.”
The man latched onto Kinich’s wrist and plucked him from the water like a wet noodle.
When I pulled myself out, I noticed my skin was covered with tiny blisters.
“Looks like ya got a little sun-god-burn, there. Did ya, lass?” He chuckled again.
I’d worry about the burn later, but why was this crazy Scotsman so damned happy?
I kneeled beside Kinich, who now appeared even paler. “He’s not waking up.”
“Hmm. ’Tis a bit odd.” He kneeled over and slapped Kinich’s face. “Wake up you ol’ bastard.”
“Hey, do you mind? Name-calling isn’t going to help.” I winced. My skin was scalding hot.
“I’ll take him tae his room and call the doctor. Looks like you’ll be needin’ his help, too, lass. That’s some sunburn ya got there.”
CHAPTER 21
Almost thirty hours after the incident with the Maaskab, I was having an epic breakdown. Kinich still lay in his bed, limp, pale, and lifeless.
The Uchben doctor, a youngish looking man with brown hair and glasses, had made at least a dozen visits, each time taking blood samples, listening to Kinich’s heart and lungs, offering zero-useful information other than Kinich was still alive.
Regardless, I couldn’t help but hold my breath and dig my nails into my palms as the doctor examined Kinich for the thirteenth time.
“And if he dies?” I asked.
The doctor made a nondescript gesture with his hands. “His light would be sent to a cenote, and he’d get a new body.”
Kinich had mentioned the cenotes—ancient Mayan pools the gods used as portals between worlds—but I wasn’t aware they could simply check in and get a new set of human wheels every time they crashed the car, so to speak.
The doctor gathered up his vials of blood and instruments. “Ms. Trudeau, a word of advice, if I may?”
How did he know I so badly needed some? Was it the terror plastered on my crispy red face?
“You need to heal. Perhaps you might benefit from a few hours of relaxation.” His eyes glanced at the wall of running water that separated the bedroom from the bath. And yes, it was a bathroom fit for a god: twice the size of the one attached to my room with a private meditation suite.
Sure. Just what I need. A bubble bath. Then, maybe after, I’ll write some colorful poetry about a fluffy cloud and go frolicking gayly in the meadow with the baby animals. Happy fucking times!
Was I the only person taking this situation seriously? Something was very, very wrong with Kinich, and I knew it in the pit of my stomach.
I turned to the crazy Scot who I learned was Gabrán, the highest-ranking Uchben chief and a very close friend to Kinich and his brother Guy. He’d explained that they’d encountered these black jade jars once before—the Maaskab had used them to hex the gods’ cenotes—but once the jars were removed from the pools, everything, including any trapped gods, returned to normal, for the most part.
So this situation was clearly different. Wasn’t it time to panic? Panic sounded reasonable and appropriate.
“Isn’t there anything we can do?” I asked.
“We wait,” Gabrán responded. “Wait and pray.”
“That’s what I’ve been doing.” And it had been about as useful as a bacon breath mint.
Gabrán scratched his head. “Whatcha be needing, lass, is tae follow the good doctor’s advice and rest.”
I sighed. He was right; I was a mess. My skin, though beginning to heal, had burns and blisters on every square inch. I resembled a charred tomato. Whatever had happened to Kinich—Hey, you’re calling him Kinich now. What does that mean?—I was certain I’d come within an inch of being cooked alive.
But that was on the outside. On the inside, well, I was already toast. Viktor had been gone more than a day, and though Kinich promised to give him two days before telling anyone, I felt the burning need to say something. What if Kinich’s state was somehow connected to all this? But if I told Gabrán, would that derail Viktor’s chances of rescuing my mother?
Pacing alongside Kinich’s seemingly lifeless body, I agonized over what to do.
What would he want me to do?
I fell to my knees beside the bed for the twentieth time. “Kinich, oh God. Please wake up. Please.” I brushed his forehead, planting gentle coaxing kisses on his pale, stubble-covered cheeks. And when that didn’t work, I reverted to shaking him. “Please, Kinich. Wake up. I don’t know what to do. You have to wake up…” I choked. “I’m sorry I said you were a coward. And a man-whore. And a god-slut. And an arrogant, man-tard. Okay—I never said that last one to your face, but I said it! And I’m sorry! I’ll do anything if you wake up. I’ll even admit you were right about us not having a chance—even though you’re wrong—because it’s completely stupid to think you’re never meant to love—idiot! How can you believe that? Really? But I’ll say it. I will! And if you want, I’ll leave you alone forever. Just…just come back. Tell me what to do,” I blubbered shamelessly.
“Oh, lass.”
I looked up to find Gabrán staring at me with his large, green eyes—a trait many seemed to have in these parts.
“I thought you left.” I plunked my head down on Kinich’s chest, fisting the white T-shirt he now wore.
“With all the caterwauling, I was certain the Scabs had returned. Or a rabid coyote had gotten intae the room.” He shook his head. “Your tears won’t be savin’ him, ya know.”
I grabbed a wad of tissues from the box on the nightstand and wiped my nose. “I don’t understand why he won’t wake up.”
Gabrán shook his head. “Nor do we, lass. Tis perplexing tae say the least. But ya must not give up hope.”
I had to tell him. I had to. There was no way I could hold this in any longer.
I took a deep breath. “I have to say something, and I can only hope you’ll do right with this information.”
He nodded. “Go on.”
“My mother was taken by the Maaskab, and Viktor went after her.”
Gabrán rubbed his chin. “Is that so?”
“Yes. He said something to Kinich about having visions of her for five hundred years. He begged
Kinich to give him two days to find her and bring her back before alerting the other gods.”
A long silence followed, then he said, “We ought to tell the General and Votan.”
“You mean Niccolo and Guy?” I couldn’t keep all of these names straight.
“Ay. But first, did he tell you anything else? Anything that might prove helpful tae me and my men?”
“He thinks my mother was a Payal.”
He raised his brows and puckered his lips. “That would explain why the Scabs might be after ya mother and you. But nae what they’ve done to our here Sun God.”
“We have to help him!” I pleaded.
“Ay,” Gabrán replied sympathetically, “but I have a sneakin’ suspicion that only those nasty priests are knowin’ the cure.”
I felt my blood boil. The Maaskab. Who knew I’d ever be capable of such profound hate. But there it was. I hated them. Profoundly.
I felt my face turn an even brighter red and my body heat up like a lobster in a pot. Smoke rose from my shoulders.
I jumped. “Ouch! Son of a bitch!” I swatted the smoldering fabric of my clothes. “What the hell?”
Gabrán watched me with pure amazement. “Did ya just catch yerself on fire, lass?”
I stood there panting. “Yep. I guess I did.”
Then I passed out.
CHAPTER 22
“Penelope. My name is Emma Keane. Can you hear me?” I felt a gentle pat on my arm. “I think she’s waking up,” the female voice whispered.
When my eyes cracked open, they encountered a redheaded woman, about my age, standing next to Gabrán.
Then, one of the largest men I’d ever seen in my life, dressed in dark gray cargo pants and a snug black T-shirt, stormed into the room. His midnight black hair, streaked with indigo blue, hung past his broad shoulders. His angry eyes, a fierce, iridescent turquoise green very similar to Kinich’s, were nothing shy of scary. He even smelled scary, like smoke. Maybe he could give me deodorant tips, since I was now spontaneously catching on fire.
“Tell me what happened,” he ordered me.
The young woman elbowed him. “Let’s help her off the floor and explain who we are before barking commands, honey.”
He grunted and shot a look at Gabrán, who then help me onto the couch in the corner of the room.
“I am Guy Santiago, Kinich’s brother. This is my fiancée, Emma.”
I nodded, knowing exactly who they were. This was the god who was going to marry the Payal.
I made a sad, little, wave-like gesture. “Penelope.”
Gabrán spoke up immediately and began retelling the story of the Maaskab and Kinich, leaving the part about my spontaneous combustion until the end.
Emma turned to me. “What were you thinking about the moment it happened?”
I blinked.
Okay, maybe this was like being at the doctor. As embarrassing as it might feel, I had to answer the question openly and hope the experts would know what to do with the information. “If you must know, I’d been thinking about how badly I wanted to sleep with Kinich.”
There was a low, stifled chuckle from Guy and Gabrán.
“He’s a total hotty, that’s for sure.” Emma cracked a smile.
“What?” Guy said. “You have desires for my brother?”
Emma patted him on the cheek. “Baby, that was a little joke. Get it, ‘hotty.’ He’s the Sun God?” Guy kept glaring. “Oh, you’re so cute when you’re jealous,” she said. “Or, is it scary? I’m not sure. But in any case, you know that no one stacks up to you.”
Her exaggerated reassurance seemed to placate the beast of a man.
“Sorry, Penelope,” Emma said, “I meant, what were you thinking about the moment you felt your body heat up?”
Oh. That. “About the monsters who took my mother and attacked Kinich—can we talk about that later?” I was not ready to face the truth about what was going on with me personally. There were much, much bigger issues at play.
And yes. Denying reality was a gift. So sue me.
I glanced at Kinich’s immobile body. “Do you know what’s wrong with him? How to help him?”
Guy ignored my questions. “Bastards. I’ll kill every last one of them.”
“Stop,” Emma warned. “Let’s leave the revenge until later.”
“I can’t help myself.” Guy began pacing. “The Maaskab have obviously been honing their weapons against us. Look at him. Kinich is completely useless to us like this.”
Then they both stared at me as if they expected me to say or do something.
“What? Aren’t you going to help him?” I asked.
“The thing is,” Emma explained, “we don’t know what to do. The Uchben have already searched their databases, and we’ve checked with the other gods—”
“Except Cimil,” Guy interrupted.
“Yes. Except Cimil, who’s MIA,” Emma added.
“Has something happened to her?” I asked. Half of me hoped the answer was yes. I knew revenge was a four-letter word, and I should rise above the desire to see her suffer, but…Come! On! The woman so deserved a little pain. Like being thrown in a pit of angry vipers. Or perhaps shoved in a rocket filled with vile, tiny, green men who had horrible flatulence, then shot off into space where she would be forced to watch them pick their noses and scratch themselves all day long.
On second thought, Cimil might enjoy that.
“Cimil has a nasty habit of disappearing when she’s needed most,” Guy stated coldly.
Emma nodded. “I’m sure she’s fine. But Kinich”—she regarded him with sadness—“The only idea we’ve come up with is to…um…”
The three exchanged glances. “What?” I asked.
Guy spoke up, “Kill him. So his light is returned to the cenote.”
“Are you people—deities—or…partial deities—whatever—crazy? You can’t do that,” I argued.
“Exactly,” Guy said. “We are immortal. He cannot be killed.”
I moved between Guy and Kinich. “You said you have no idea what’s the matter with him. What if you’re wrong?”
Gabrán chimed in, “The girl has a point.”
Without warning, Emma—who stood near the foot of the bed—whipped out a large Buck knife from the waistband of her pink yoga pants—Christ!—and made a small cut across the top of Kinich’s exposed foot.
I shrieked at the sight of blood pooling in the gash. “Why did you do that?”
She ignored my question and stared at Kinich’s wound. After a moment, the blood dribbled to the tile floor. She shook her head.
“Tis nae healing,” Gabrán declared. “The girl is right. Whatever the Maaskab have done to the man, may have changed the rules.”
“You keep assuming I’m part of your club and get what the hell you’re talking about.” I felt seriously panicked and was not giving a crappity-crap if I offended anyone at this point.
“A god would heal in seconds from a cut that size,” Gabrán explained. “’Tis possible he’s been changed somehow.”
“Which means?” I asked.
Guy answered, “We will have to keep searching for a way to undo this dark magic.”
“How long will that take?”
“Anywhere from a few weeks to a few decades, if we are lucky.”
***
After everyone left Kinich’s room in a heated debate, I slumped down on the bed next to him.
“Dammit, Kinich.” I brushed his caramel locks back from his forehead. “What’s happened to you? What’s happened to me?” He was freezing, and I was boiling like a lobster.
I plopped my head down on his chest. “Where are you?”
“Right here. Why are you crying?” Kinich suddenly sat up as if he’d had the most refreshing nap ever.
His surreal, turquoise eyes stared back at me with a twinkle, and his lips were pursed with a sneaky little grin.
“Kinich!” I yelped and threw myself on him. “You’re awake! Oh my God!” I couldn’
t help but cry again—this time with the utmost relief.
I buried my face in his chest. It was warm again. Oh so warm.
His hand stroked the back of my head, following the length of my hair. “Sssh. Sssh. Do not cry, Penelope. Everything is fine.”
He peeled me off his chest. “No more crying. Please.” He wiped the tears from beneath my eyes.
I sniffled and gave him a nod. “What happened to you?” I mumbled.
He shrugged casually. “Nothing. I feel great.”
“You’ve been in a coma for over a day. I thought you were dead.”
His brows pulled together. “Dead? I am a god. We can’t die—as much as I wish otherwise.”
I cupped my hand over his mouth. “Don’t ever say that. I thought I’d lost you…I thought…”
Wow. Was I really going to let that tiny door inside my heart open up and allow those buried emotions to be said out loud?
Activate reality-denial button? My inner voice chimed in.
No. Not this time.
Kinich stared at me, his eyes filled with intense emotion. “Yes? You thought you’d lost me, and what?”
I couldn’t say the words just yet, but I could show him how I felt. I need you. I want you. I might break into a million pieces if you don’t feel the same.
I leaned forward and kissed him.
His reaction was immediate. It was raw. It was what I’d hoped for.
He flipped me on my back, pinning me beneath him, kissing me hard, kissing me like he meant to fill me with his own avalanche of emotions.
His heavy frame instantly shifted, shaping to my hungry body. His knees slid between mine and parted my thighs. I exhaled sharply when I felt his hardness prodding me in just the right spot.
A groan left his lips while his tongue slid in and out of my mouth with an erotic pumping rhythm.
My fingertips moved through his silky strands of hair and then traveled down the sides of his face to his neck and arms, savoring every muscle—packed with heat, power, and steely hardness. His body turned into hot twisting barbs of steel, intent on caging me. His erection thrust against me, and the heat of him on my most sensitive skin almost sent me over the edge.
Sun God Seeks…Surrogate? Page 15
