Vampires Need Not...Apply ay-4

by Jean Mimi Pamfiloff

  “Ixtab. Thank the gods!” Penelope yelled. “Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”

  “I was busy,” she replied.

  “You were having sex with him?”

  I wish. “Not that kind of busy,” Ixtab grumbled.

  “Oh. Sorry to hear that. Did you at least get him back to work?”

  “That won’t be an issue. There’s another problem,” Ixtab said.

  “Let me put you on speaker.” There was a pause and then Penelope asked, “There. Can you hear me?”

  “Yes.” Ixtab rolled her eyes. “I can hear you…”

  “Good. Kinich is with me. We’re listening.”

  Where should she start? “Well, first of all, Antonio didn’t go to Spain to run away from me.”

  “Oh! That’s great!” Penelope responded.

  “He came here because his father is dying.”

  “Oh no. That’s horrible.”

  “But he hates his father, so he’s not sad about it,” Ixtab added.

  “Is that horrible or good? Because it sounds like a little of both,” Penelope said.

  “I’m not sure,” Ixtab said, “which is the reason we need to talk.” Pause. “Kinich, are you listening?”

  Ixtab heard a rustling in the background and then a “Heeeey!” from Kinich that sounded like someone had taken away his favorite toy.

  “Sorry,” said Penelope, “he was kissing my tummy. He’s listening now.”

  Resist. Resist hating them for their sickly, sweet cuteness… “I overheard a conversation between Antonio and his father. They were yelling about him taking the souls of his children, and I most definitely heard the word species thrown in there along with the name el Trauco. What the hell is el Trauco?”

  There was a long silence before Penelope chimed in. “El Trauco is a mystical creature from Chile that preys on innocent young women and impregnates them.”

  “How did you know that?” Ixtab asked.

  “I’ve got an iPhone. Hello. Sometimes you deities are so old-school.”

  Ixtab pulled her phone from her cheek and stared at the device. Oh yeah. I guess I could have Wiki’d that. I am pretty lame.

  Then her mind began to jam the improbable into place, forcing the pieces of the jigsaw to fit together. Gasp! This couldn’t be. This just couldn’t be. Hate you dramawhore Universe! Hate, hate, hate you!!

  Feeling the blood pool to her feet, she scarcely managed to eke out, “I’ll call you later.” Ixtab hung up and flopped faceup on the bed. There was no way! No way!

  Yes way.

  It was the only explanation that made sense. The darkness, the missing women, the look-alikes, and finally, Antonio’s obsession with the tablet.

  Poor, poor Antonio. All this time, this is what he’d been up against? Gods, why hadn’t he told her? And now that she knew, what would she do about it?

  First, you need to find out how. Yes, how? Because never in a million years would Ixtab have seen this coming. It was simply… impossible.

  * * *

  Ixtab followed the foul stench of death and decay through the house back to study and to what had to be Antonio’s father’s hidden bedroom, or lair as some creepy creatures liked to call it. It reeked of everything in this world she despised—the absence of joy or life—and the malevolent energy was so powerful that it doubled her over the moment she touched the faux bookshelf slash hidden door. Or maybe it was the pain of her past catching up with her. Or perhaps the disappointment she felt, because if her assumptions were true, then Antonio’s arrival into her life had nothing to do with destiny or fate or the Universe giving her another chance. It would simply be the result of a terrible oversight by the gods.

  Feeling that her heart might actually burst from sadness, she trembled as her hand gripped the wooden shelf and pulled. Gods dammit, please don’t be him. Please don’t be him…

  The hidden door creaked open and the obscure room, with its thick, black velvet curtains and mahogany furniture, looked more like a dreary tomb.

  “Quién es usted?” The old man, who wore a burgundy bathrobe with gold trim, sat up in his bed.

  Ixtab’s heart nearly shriveled up into a ball of despair and anger. Yes, his face was thin and his eyes a dull, hazy gray, but the resemblance to Francisco—and Antonio and Franco, for that matter—was undeniable.

  But how? How? On the very godsdamned day she’d finally put the past behind her? On the very day she’d realized she no longer had to be the Goddess of Suicide, but could be something more, something better—the bringer of happiness. Noooo! She refused to believe it. Re. Fused! Why did the Universe insist on punishing her?

  Ixtab’s knees began to tremble violently and adrenaline coursed through her humanlike body, making her feel like she might actually explode from the shock.

  How…?

  “Mind explaining why the hell you’re not dead?” Gods, how she wanted to hurt him. How could this be?

  He narrowed his cataract-covered eyes. “I recognize your voice. It is very, very familiar. Who are you?”

  “Who am I? Who am I? I’ve spent two hundred years mourning your death, punishing myself for killing you! And you ask, ‘Who am I?’ ” Oh, gods. Now she would never remove the veil. She felt so… so ridiculous!

  “Ixtab,” he whispered. “Is that you?”

  “You bet your ass it’s me! And how the hell didn’t I know?”

  How had he gotten past her radar?

  He slowly rose from the bed and wobbled his way toward her. “Please, let me see your face. I’ve dreamt of you for so long.”

  “Stop! Just stop! Don’t pull that crap on me! Wait. Maybe I should just kill you. Again!” She reached for him, but he did not move away, causing her to pause.

  “Go ahead,” he said. “You would be doing this old incubus a favor.”

  Well, in that case, she wouldn’t touch him. There’d be no favors for this despicable, disgusting vile creature. Not today.

  “Please, touch me,” he said, his voice sounding like a rickety, old fence. “If I die, I will move on to my next body,”

  Ding, ding, ding!!! Five-alarm goddess bells screamed in her head. “We got rid of your kind centuries ago. How? How is this possible?” she asked.

  It had taken the gods a few decades to exterminate the incubi, but they’d done it. So they thought. The key had been finding and destroying the incubi’s portals into the human world—which ironically turned out to be a handful of sulfuric hot springs near present-day Las Vegas.

  “How?” the demon cackled. “Obviously I hid. Quite successfully, I might add.”

  “Your bodies don’t last,” she argued. Unlike the gods, the soul of a demon is corrosive to their humanlike shells. Over time, they wither away and die. And without their portals, the demons weren’t supposed to make new bodies or be able to travel back to their realm, leaving their souls simply in limbo for all eternity. That had been the plan, anyway.

  Unless… “You found a way to make hosts?” she asked.

  He smiled and displayed his brownish-yellow teeth. “More like… offspring. Your sister Cimil was more than willing to help me for the right price. I like her; she’s quite the evil one, isn’t she?”

  Cimil? Oh no. This was bad. Really, really bad. She’d been the one in charge of exterminating the demons to begin with. And what did he mean exactly by “offspring.”

  “Are you trying to tell me—”

  “Exactly! Francisco, the original Francisco, was one of the first. It was fate that I took over his body after you’d fallen in love with him. The way you looked at me with your adoring eyes—I’d never experienced such pleasure and knew I had to have you for my own. No matter how long it took. I am on body number eight, by the way.”

  Dirty, rotten bastard took Francisco’s body and pretended to be him? Poor, poor Francisco. He had been a kind, selfless, purehearted man. He hadn’t deserved to have his life stolen like that.

  “For the record,” she spat, “that look of adora
tion wasn’t meant for you.”

  He flicked his wrist in the air. “Are you certain about that? Are you certain a tiny part of you didn’t see me for who I truly was during those few days we were together? Because if I recall correctly, you said you loved me.”

  Oh, gods, she had said it. But she’d thought she was talking to Francisco and not some horrible, disgusting demon. Why hadn’t she noticed the change? How could she have been so blind?

  Ixtab hit pause to digest what it all meant, then hit a cold, hard wall. Who could possibly make sense of all this? The man she once loved had his body hijacked by an incubus who’d survived the banishment of his race with the help of the deity who was supposed to have killed him: Cimil. Cimil also helped him figure out how to find new bodies to live inside. And to top off Ixtab’s crap fiesta, she now had genuine feelings for another of the demon’s offspring, but Antonio believed he was destined to be with portal woman (species unknown). All the while, they were supposed to be figuring out how to open the portal so they could free Guy and Niccolo in order to prevent the apocalypse—prophesied by Cimil.

  Don’t forget, the entire vampire army is on furlough in Euro Disney and we’re sitting ducks until they return. Which they wouldn’t do until Niccolo was free and able to amend the law.

  The entire situation was bizarre and unbelievable enough that only one explanation existed: Cimil. Yes, all sick-and-twisted signs pointed to this being her handiwork.

  “Ya. That kooky Cimil.” Ixtab chuckled sarcastically. “She’s a wacky, evil goddess, that one. Always surprising everyone with her fun little pranks. So, what was her wacky price to let you live?”

  He smiled again. His tongue was a grayish green. She wanted to yack. “Let’s say I had something she wanted. A useless relic I came across during my travels.”

  Relic? He can’t possibly mean… “It wouldn’t happen to have been a tablet?” It wasn’t a question, but a realization.

  “No,” he replied quickly.

  “You’re lying, aren’t you?” Demons were notorious liars.

  “Yes.”

  Crapola. “And now you’re telling the truth, aren’t you?”

  “No.”

  Ugh. So frustrating. “You just lied again, didn’t you?”

  He smiled. “Yes.”

  How could she have possibly said, “I love you,” to this… horrible, frustrating, icky demon? How? How? How? Oh, gods, she’d never forgive herself. The humiliation would haunt her for another two centuries.

  The worst part was how she’d been so judgmental of vampires! She’d actually thought they were icky. But this guy? Hell, there was nothing lower or more disgusting on the planet. She needed to put an end to him.

  Vampires rock! Reason number one: they are not incubi.

  But isn’t Antonio an…?

  Oh no. No!

  “So, Antonio is really your…” She cleared her throat. “… Son?”

  “Yes. But he’s not a true incubus.”

  Oh, thank heavens. I’m still getting over the whole liking vampires thing.

  “My offspring are mostly human,” he explained, “with just enough of my DNA to provide my light a happy safe home for a while. Cimil was also kind enough to throw in some magic so my male offspring continue to look like Francisco. I know you enjoyed my face, so I kept it for you.”

  Oh, yippee. “You wouldn’t happen to want to tell me how you do it?” Because I’m so going to put an end to your shenanigans.

  “No.”

  This time, she knew he told the truth; demons loved to keep secrets.

  “How about giving me some reason not to Tweet my peeps the deets?” she asked. “I could have your sons locked up and prevent you from making more Franciscitos. When your current body goes, you’ll have nowhere to hide.”

  He chuckled with victorious, evil glee. “Do you really think Antonio and Franco are my only children? I have others, many others; although they are female—not my preference—but I could survive, if need be.”

  “Please don’t tell me your daughters also look like Francisco because that would be so very wrong.”

  “Ixtab, I’m wounded. Do you truly believe I am that cruel?” the incubus asked.

  “Um. Yeaaah,” she replied. “You’re a demon. Remember?”

  Hack, hack. “Excellent point,” he replied.

  Well, nothing she could do about a bunch of ugly, burly, part-incubus chicks running around the planet, although she was curious to see what a family reunion might look like.

  Ixtab shivered.

  In any case… dang it! This demon was good at risk mitigation. It was almost like he’d anticipated this.

  Cimil! “Cimil knew this would happen and warned you, didn’t she?” Ixtab asked.

  “No.” His eyes glowed with psycho joy.

  Ugh. He just lied again.

  Hate. Demons. Hate them.

  “I understand why you might be angry with me,” he said, “but know, after you ‘killed’ me, I couldn’t not come to you and reveal myself even though this is what I wanted. I loved you—I still love you. And Cimil promised if I did as she asked and remained patient, this joyous day would come.”

  “This day? As in… our happy reunion?” Ick, ick, ick… is he serious?

  He nodded eagerly. “Yes. Fate has brought us together, Ixtab. And now it is time for us to be happy.”

  “But you drain the life from young women for food. Sometimes you screw them as an appetizer. Why would I want to be with you?”

  “Oh, now,” he replied. Hack, hack, gurgle. “Is it really so terrible that I enjoy the pleasures of the flesh or that I must feed to survive? You didn’t seem to even notice before.”

  Ixtab gasped. Oh, gods, what a damned fool she’d been! The day before she killed Francisco—errr—killed the possessed Francisco, she’d gone with him to a convent to visit the sick. She’d thought Francisco had been comforting those poor dying souls when in fact he’d been sucking the lives from them to feed. How could she not have noticed what was going on?

  Perhaps because you were so desperate for love that you didn’t want to see it. She had been just as lonely then as she was now.

  “I love you for who you are, my dear g-g-goddess.” Hack, gurgle. “I have no delusions of your sainthood and know every one of your dirty little secrets.” He whispered, “I even know the name of every male you’ve killed—by accident, of course.”

  “How?”

  “I’ve kept an eye on you all these years, waiting for this day. And know, I do not look down upon you. I never could; you and I are alike. We both kill because it is in our nature, our role in the Universe.”

  How dare he say that! Ixtab wanted to punch the old, shriveled goat in his decrepit face. “I don’t enjoy hurting people like you do—Okay, the evil bastards, yes. They’re super fun to kill. But not the others.”

  Ixtab’s mind circulated around the multitude of loose strings while the conversation played out. She knew there was so, so, so much more to this story. First, this evil bastard was about to die. So that meant he’d be going to a new body, preferably a male one. Antonio or his brother Franco.

  Oh no.

  She needed to think this through carefully. Very carefully. Time to retreat and regroup. “I have to go.”

  “Are you coming back?” he asked.

  She pressed her hands to her temples. “I-I don’t know.”

  “Just answer me this, Ixtab. Why are you here? Why, after all this time, has fate brought us together again?”

  Because you are a disgusting pig, your time has come to pay for your crimes, and this goddess has got your number?

  “Enlighten me?” she replied sweetly.

  “The Universe led you to the tablet and my son. He led you to me. We are meant to be.”

  Think carefully. Show nothing.

  She nodded slowly. “I’ve been suffering for two centuries because of your death and now I find you alive. It’s a bit overwhelming. I need time to think.” She turned to
leave and reached for the door. “By the way, when will you make the change to your new body?”

  “My heart grows weaker by the moment. Not long now. And then I will be young and strong again.”

  And likely looking for your next demon baby momma. “One question. Why wait until your body gives out? I mean, why not just kill yourself and do it sooner?” Because… ick! He looked awful—patches of missing hair, dark spots on his skin, hazed-over irises. Not that she cared, but surely he did.

  He shook his crooked, wrinkled finger in the air. “You always were smart, my dear Ixtab.”

  Was that a string of drool flowing from the corner of his mouth?

  Vampires rock. Reason number two: they never get old and drool on themselves.

  “Cimil advised,” he explained, “I would meet my demise if I took any shortcuts. My death must be due to natural or supernatural causes.”

  Interesting… “And what happens to your son when you take his body?”

  The old demon shrugged. “His soul goes… out.” He flicked his wrist casually, as if he didn’t know and didn’t care.

  Vampires rock. Reason number three: they don’t eject people’s souls from their bodies and take them over like horrible parasitic extraterrestrials.

  Ixtab’s plastic cackle bounced off the walls. “Of course. Stupid mortal souls—they are so weak and disgusting. Who cares what happens to them?” Ixtab was extremely grateful for her veil because it hid the panic in her eyes. This had to be a dream.

  Dreams only happen to mortals. You, my dear goddess, have just had your entire reality chewed on and spit out like a flavorless wad of gum.

  Chapter Veinticinco

  Panting, Ixtab found Antonio sitting on a bench in the garden, gazing pensively at the cloudless night. “Oh, thank heavens! Kirstie said I’d find you here.” Ixtab took a seat beside him. “At least I think she was talking to me. It could’ve been the wall. It’s hard to tell which eye is her good one. And why does she always smell like borscht?”

  “You came out here to talk about the maid’s wandering eye and her addiction to beets?” Antonio’s gaze didn’t waver from the starlit sky.

  “No. I came out for this…” Ixtab socked him three times in the arm, but it had zero impact. “Why didn’t you tell me your father is el Trauco, Latin America’s most infamous incubus?”