Sun God Seeks…Surrogate?

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  “Woman! Stop your foolishness. It is I.”

  “Woman? Oh my God! Minotaur, it is you!” she began to squeal.

  He felt the weight of her body slam into her heels as she jumped and clapped. He felt the heaviness of her bust jiggle with her movements. His…well, not his body, but his soul tensed up. If he had a penis, it would be harder than a rock right now.

  “This is going to be very challenging.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Keep jumping.”

  CHAPTER 28

  I bolted down the hallway, unable to believe he’d been hanging out inside my body the entire time. Now it all made sense…my smoldering rear end, the blast I’d given Brutus. Did this mean that I wasn’t a Payal? And if not, then why would the Maaskab even want me or have taken my mother?

  Mistaken identity?

  I’d have to ask as soon as I delivered the exciting news about Kinich to the gods. But would they believe me? It was little a little…strange.

  Come on. Look who you’re talking about. The gods invented weird. They probably had Weird Olympics complete with crazy crab-crawl relay race, garbage can chariot racing, and potato sack hop…with the potatoes still in them. While eating potatoes. These folks were the official sponsors of the bizarre and unusual.

  Damn. And you fit right in.

  Then, without pomp or warning, the magnitude of the situation struck home like a bad burrito.

  Crap! Inside my body? He could feel what I felt? Hear my thoughts?

  Testing, testing. You are the sexiest man alive. I want to make you my hunky love slave and hereby decree you call me Princess Penelope, Your Eternal Jewel.

  No response.

  Minotaur? Can you hear me?

  No response.

  Well, that’s a relief.

  I rounded the corner into the living room to find Emma, Gabrán, and Brutus speaking quietly.

  “I found Kinich,” I exclaimed.

  Emma shifted the gaze of her bloodshot eyes from the floor.

  I jumped up and down and pointed to my chest. “He’s here!”

  Gabrán leaned toward Brutus. “The lass has finally cracked.”

  Brutus nodded in agreement.

  “No. Really!”

  I blabbed a million miles an hour, telling them all about how Kinich had said the prayer, but that I’d forgotten until I’d heard the words spoken by Guy.

  “Isn’t it great!” I said, clapping.

  “Penelope.” Kinich mumbled. “You haven’t won a new car. In fact, we have a very big problem.”

  I turned my head toward the ceiling. Then floor. Then…“I don’t know where to look when I talk to you, so I’ll just say this to my shoes.” They were snow boots, actually. That’s all I had with me. “Up until five minutes ago, I’d thought I lost you forever. So trust me. This is way better.”

  “The same could be said about a tuna sandwich,” Kinich grumbled.

  “Wow. Has anyone ever told you that you’re a downer?”

  “Yes. Frequently. I believe Cimil refers to me as a Donna Downer—some acquaintance of hers, I suppose.”

  “It’s Debbie.”

  “Ah yes. Debbie is correct. But how is it that you also know her?”

  He clearly had no clue who Debbie was. “You don’t watch television, do you?”

  “Not this decade, but I understand the Me Tube is quite popular. I intend to watch my video—”

  “Eh-hem!” Emma chimed in. “Sorry to interrupt the conversation…with…yourself—sounds pretty interesting, by the way—but could you explain that little part about Kinich again?”

  “Oh. Sorry.” I jumped up and down. “Kinich’s soul, or…light…whatever you people call it, parked itself inside my body.”

  I explained once again all about the ritual and how I’d completed it.

  “You’re frigging kidding me,” Emma said. “That’s almost as weird as what happened to me.”

  Before I could say another word, Guy appeared in the room.

  “Did I miss much?” He said with a cocked brow and arrogance in his voice only a god could pull off.

  Emma squealed and ran across the room, launching herself at him. He easily caught her petite frame.

  “What happened? Did you find anything?” I asked.

  Emma smothered his face in kisses.

  “Hold on, honey.” He pecked Emma’s lips and then set her down. A gloomy frown occupied his face. “I was unable to find your mother. But I have found a few clues that might lead to the Maaskab. I’ve called an emergency summit for tomorrow to discuss it.” His eyes dropped. “I am sorry, Penelope, not to bring you better news.”

  “It’s still something.” I am not going to cry, I am not going to cry.

  Gabrán then jumped in and informed Guy about Kinich. Surprisingly, Guy didn’t seem at all worried. In fact, he looked downright amused.

  See, ambassadors of weird.

  “Well, Kinich,” Guy said with a grin. “Seems Fate’s having a little fun with you.”

  “Fuck off,” I heard Kinich say. Obviously, Kinich could hear anything I heard, but no one could hear him back. So I said, “He says you’ve always been his favorite brother.”

  Guy quirked a brow before turning toward Gabrán, still clutching Emma in his arms. “The others are right behind me, please make sure their needs are taken care of and that they do not destroy Kinich’s house this time.”

  Kinich grumbled his appreciation, but I didn’t share, because Guy wasted no time relocking lips with Emma right in the foyer. It didn’t appear they had any plans to detach this century. In fact, they reminded me of a barnacle and a tanker.

  I was about to comment that I wasn’t in the mood to watch the prelude to their “lovemaking”—damn, I was jealous—but that’s when I saw them.

  “Oh my…gods…”

  ***

  One by one they streamed into the living room.

  They glowed. They radiated. They exuded the sort of power humans dreamed of. Words could not do justice, so I simply said, “Wow,” and let my jaw hang open.

  “Wow, what?” Kinich asked.

  “The other gods,” I whispered. “They’re here.”

  “Ah yes. Stand your guard, woman.”

  Um…okay. Was there something to be afraid of? Because, I didn’t feel afraid. I felt like running to get a camera.

  And would he ever stop calling me “woman”?

  “Sure thing, Minotaur,” I sighed.

  First, a man with golden skin and ankle-length black hair streaked with silver, floated in. He wore a royal blue toga and an ostentatious, foot-high, jade headdress. His turquoise eyes were filled with irreverence as he surveyed the room.

  Next came a tall, slender woman with golden waves of hair, wearing a bow and arrow and a short, white dress belted at the waist with leather cord—She-Ra? Princess of Power? Is that you?—followed by a rather statuesque woman wearing what looked to be a hat shaped like Winnie the Pooh’s beehive.

  One by one, some with black hair and dark skin; some with white hair and light golden skin; some dressed semi-normal and others barely dressed at all; the ten beings lined up in front of me while I stood there gawking.

  “Hi, I’m Penelo—”

  Before I finished, all ten kneeled down and set objects on the hardwood floor.

  I glanced at Guy and Emma for help, but they were still engaged in their heavy petting near the front door. Gabrán and a few of his men stood motionless at attention.

  “Kinich,” I whispered. “What’s going on?”

  “What are they doing?” he asked.

  I covered my mouth to stifle the noise. “They’re kneeling on the ground. They put stuff on the floor.”

  One had set out a smallish wooden box; the lady with the white dress, a set of horns from an elk or something. Another, a leather bota. There was also a jar of honey and some other bric-a-brac. It seemed they’d all gone to Cost Plus and shopped in the third world knickknack section.

&n
bsp; Then my eyes shifted to the far end of the line to my right.

  The woman wore a flowing black dress and lace veil. And though I could scarcely see her iridescent eyes through the cloth, her stare gave me the heebie-jeebies. Then I noticed her little prize.

  Ewww. A dead rat?

  “They are honoring you. Do not be nervous,” Kinich instructed

  Oh hardy, har, har, har. Suuure. Nothing to be nervous about. The most powerful beings in the world are kneeling in front of me, offering dead things and other assorted sundries.

  “Why are they doing this?” I asked Kinich.

  “Simply thank them,” he replied.

  I was about to, but then my guilty manners kicked in.

  Oh no! I hadn’t got them anything. My mind scrambled. I had some Tic Tacs in my purse, but they were almost gone. Well, hopefully they were fans of the “it’s the thought that counts” rule because they would have to share.

  I cleared my throat. “Um. Are these for me? You really shouldn’t have.”

  The man in the middle, whom I’d not had a good look at yet, rose with his right arm crossed over his broad chest, his hand fisted over his heart. He wore a black tee and well-fitted black leather pants—seemed like the standard-issue uniform for the men in this social circle—and like the other males in the family, he had to be pushing seven feet in height. His thick, loose waves of black hair hung well past his shoulders, and his arctic-blue eyes were an icy contrast to his milk chocolate skin.

  Really? Seriously? Can these deities possibly be any better looking? It seemed unfair given they also had preternatural powers and immortality.

  “I am Zac Cimi, Bacab of the North. As our tradition dictates, we honor you with gifts, Sun Goddess.”

  I sighed like a thirteen-year-old meeting her favorite teen idol. Regardless of where my heart was committed, my inner horn-dog was captivated.

  Pen! Snap out of it. He just called you “Sun Goddess.”

  Right. I’m on it!

  “This is for Kinich,” I realized. “Phew! I thought you’d all gone on some grack bender and were kneeling for me.”

  Zac’s eyes shifted side to side. His handsome face, with uncharacteristically exquisite cheekbones and thick, black lashes, looked troubled. “No. You now hold Kinich’s power. Therefore, you are the ruler of the House of the Gods.”

  “Sorry?” My eyes bulged from my head. “House of what?” I looked at my boots. “Kinich, this has to be some mistake. Please tell me what to say.”

  He grumbled, “Penelope. Just accept graciously.”

  “But—”

  “I have been the ruler of the House of the Gods for over half my existence. But it is only because the sun is the source of all life. You now house me; ergo, you now rule the gods until we are separated.”

  “Uh-uh. No. Nein. Nix. Nyet. Not gonna happen.”

  “Penelopeeee,” Kinich snarled a warning.

  “But what about water and oxygen? Aren’t those equally important to life? Or…chocolate? Chocolate is powerful. Especially dark chocolate—it has antioxidants. Isn’t there a god for that?”

  “No, Penelope. It doesn’t work that way.”

  Oh no. I wasn’t going for this. Not at all.

  I pointed to the woman in the black veil. “What does she do? Can’t she take over?”

  She shot daggers with her eyes—at least I thought she did; it was hard to tell with the veil over her face.

  “Okay, maybe not her.” I pointed to the lady in the short, white dress who’d presented me with antlers. “How about She-Ra, there? At least she’s got fun taste in clothes.”

  The veiled woman in black sprung from her knees and stepped forward. “Oh for heaven’s sake. Not this same old crap! I am the Goddess of Suicide. What do you expect me to wear? A hula skirt and beer helmet?”

  Goddess of Suicide? Yikes. And I’d thought waiting tables sucked. Her job is way worse.

  A pudgy god—the one who presented the bota and wore several—six?—himself, with unkempt, plain brown hair, and wearing a green Puma running suit, chimed in, “Yaaaa. Gooood one. I like hulas and beer helmets,” he slurred.

  Was he drunk?

  The suicide lady rolled her eyes. “Shut it, Belch.” Her veiled eyes swept the room. “Why must we go through this every summit? Anyone else want to take a shot at the sad, sad, depressing lady?” She held out her arms and pivoted back and forth, looking at the others.

  Everyone ignored her.

  “Just kill me now. Please?” She whispered acerbically to no one in particular.

  “I’m really sorry,” I blurted. “I didn’t mean it. Your goth look is a classic.” I did a little pump with my fist in the air. “Go Bela,” I said quietly. “I meant Lugosi. Not the Twilight Bella.”

  The gods regarded me with blank expressions.

  This was not going well.

  “Look everyone.” Half of the gods still knelt. “Please, get up. This is so wrong.” I looked over at the door and was about to call Emma and Guy to my aid, but they were gone. “Oh. Come on! Can’t you two keep your hands off each other for two seconds?” I called out.

  The gods looked at each other with confusion before casting their glances at me.

  “I’m leaving now,” I said. “I can’t accept your lovely, and such…”—don’t look at the dead rat, don’t look at the dead rat—“inspirational gifts.” I began to back away. “Just…” I made little waves with my hands. “Pick a new interim leader. Okay?”

  I turned to leave, but She-Ra—the one in the white dress with the bow and arrow—latched onto my hand, sending waves of painful tingles through my arm. “No, Penelope. You will lead the summit tomorrow. It must be you.”

  I snapped my arm away. “Thank you. I really, appreciate the offer. But I’m not—”

  I drew a blank as my eyes met with hers. Like Zac, her eyes were nearly translucent with a splash of sky blue. I was instantly mesmerized.

  “Penelope? What’s going on?” asked Kinich.

  “Umm…I…”

  “Dammit. Your human form is still susceptible. Penelope, listen to my voice. Listen hard. Listen only to me.”

  I’m listening, I’m listening, I wanted to say, but couldn’t.

  He continued, “You are immune to the powers of the gods; their scents, their commands, and the influences of their energies. You will listen to only me.”

  I shut my eyes and noticed my head had cleared. When I reopened them, the She-Ra woman with flowing golden hair, still stared.

  She smiled. “I do not care what Kinich is telling you, I have spoken on this matter.”

  “Who are you?”

  She dipped her head. “I am Camaxtli, Goddess of the Hunt.”

  Well that explained the antler gift and the Outback Steakhouse-meets-J.Lo outfit.

  “I am also known as, Irsirra, Legba Fon, Dola, and many others. You may call me Fate.” She smiled and walked away.

  Irsalegafondola-what? Her name sounded like a hippie love child gone wrong. “Kudos on the smorga-horror of names, lady, but I’m not doing it.”

  The other gods gasped at my insult. Except for the suicide lady. She snickered.

  “Penelope,” Kinich scolded. “Go back to my room. We will discuss this in private.”

  “Wait,” I said. “You’re not agreeing with her? I can’t lead your summit.”

  “Penelope. I do not have time to explain all of our laws. But Fate has spoken, and you will simply have to trust me; no one, not even I, tempts Fate. We all learned that lesson long, long ago.”

  Um…okay. Wasn’t that whole “tempting fate” thing supposed to be meant figuratively? In any case, I was so, so out of my league arguing with this bunch, and I knew it.

  “Fine, goddammit. I’ll do it.”

  “Knew ya would,” I heard Fate snort as I stomped away, accepting defeat with about as much grace as a two-legged pit bull.

  When I reached Kinich’s room, a few of the gods—I wasn’t sure how they’d gotten there so
fast—were already outside in the pool guzzling wine and doing cannonballs. Of course, they were completely naked. Except for the god they called Belch, the already drunk one. He wore a leopard bikini that accentuated his beer belly. Ironically, though, he was still pretty good-looking. Must be a god thing.

  I shook my head and drew the curtains. Could this situation possibly get any weirder?

  The answer to my question, I’d soon discover, was yes. Absolutely.

  CHAPTER 29

  Step by step, Kinich walked me through each god—names, personality quirks, relative rank, and powers. Each deity was known for something special, a unique gift, but had a variety of abilities. Now, why a god would need the gift of balancing a spoon on his nose—Belch—producing a yodel that could be heard for fifty miles—Fate—or sniffing out the best price on anything, at any time, in any hemisphere—Cimil—was beyond me. It did, however, account for why many civilizations believed in a multitude of deities when in actuality there were fourteen.

  And thank goodness for that. As it was, I would never keep their names straight. Aside from Cimil, Guy, Kinich, Chaam (the evil brother now locked inside a pyramid), Zac (the hunky god in black I’d just met), Camaxtli (Fate), and Acan, the God of Wine and Intoxication (aka Blech); there was Ixtab, the Goddess of Suicide (aka dead rat lady); Akna, Goddess of Fertility (going to stay far, far away from her); Ah-Ciliz, the God of Eclipses, and Colel Cab, Mistress of Bees (that explained why she gave me honey and had a hive on her head). And last but not least…K’ak. Apparently, his full name meant “Smoking Squirrel.” And aside from being able to summon bolts of lightning, no one really knew what he did—though his name seemed like a gift all its own, as did his fashion sense. (He was the one with the ankle-length hair and the giant headdress.)

  Those were merely the gods I could remember, but there were several more, including the Goddess of Forgetfulness (who Kinich said I’d never remember because no one did).

  Next, Kinich tackled the topic of summit protocol. The agenda had to be set at the beginning of the meeting. This was law. Otherwise, keeping order was like herding cats on crack—not grack—with itchy dermatitis.