Vampires Need Not...Apply ay-4

by Jean Mimi Pamfiloff

  A collective “Oh, crap” rang through the air.

  “Checkmate!” Belch clapped and then roared with laughter, smacking his hand on the table. “Oh, gods, Cimil is a riot.”

  Penelope ignored Belch, as did everyone else, and looked at Maggie. “You can go now. Ask the soldier outside to have someone show you to a room.”

  “You’re not letting Cimil go, are you?” Maggie asked.

  “No. We’ll find another way to deal with the demon,” Penelope replied.

  “I want your word.” Maggie looked around the table. “I want everyone’s word or no deal. And for the record, I’m not telling you how to open the portal until Chaam is free.”

  “For this to work, doesn’t Ixtab need to be there when we release him?” Penelope asked.

  “Guess you’ll have to take the tablet to Mexico then and open the portal outside Chaam’s prison. Won’t you? Do we have a deal—yes or no?”

  “Yes,” Penelope stated.

  Chapter Treinta

  Antonio waffled between fury and panic as the powerful yet clearly insane deities debated what to do next. It seemed that Cimil was an excellent chess player, but by no means was this checkmate.

  “We must strike a deal with Cimil.”

  “No. No deals.”

  “Then let the demon out. We’ll catch up with him later.”

  Their words flew through the air so quickly that Antonio had a difficult time keeping up with the conversation. One deity would start a sentence, another would finish. They went around and around like an angry pair of cats.

  “Stop!” Antonio barked. “If you let my father out, he will need a new host. That host will be my brother. Not acceptable.”

  Penelope, who seemed to be the calmest out of the group, stood and paced at the back of the room. “I will talk to Cimil and see what she wants in exchange for her help with the demon.”

  “No,” Bees said. “Her crimesss are unforgivable. No dealsss; this is what she wants.”

  Penelope held out her hand. “I know. But we’re talking Cimil here. Maybe all she wants is a chocolate chip cookie or a ride on her unicorn.”

  “Good point,” said Bees.

  “I agree,” Fate said. “Let’s see what she wants.”

  “I want to be there,” said Antonio. His father could not be allowed out and Ixtab had to be saved. If Cimil was the only one who could make this happen, he sure as hell wouldn’t leave the job of convincing her up to this wackypack.

  “Are you still here, vamp-ubus?” Fate scowled at Antonio.

  “Vamp-ubus?” asked Antonio.

  “Incu-pire, then?” Fate offered.

  Antonio simply stared.

  “Well, I must call you something, and vampire slash incubus is much too lengthy,” Fate explained.

  “How about Antonio, for fuck sake,” Antonio growled. These deities were unbelievable. How had Ixtab remained sane living with them all these centuries?

  Fate glanced at the ceiling, pondering. “Antonio Forfucksake? I don’t get it.”

  “Enough!” Antonio screamed. “My woman’s life is on the line. Can you people—deities, what fucking ever—please focus?”

  Bees chuckled. “Do all Spaniards swear so much? You put the Demilords to shame.”

  “Wait,” Fate asked, gasping. “Your woman? You mean Ixtab?”

  “Are you deaf?” Antonio replied. “Yes. Ixtab is mine. Does this present an issue for you?”

  “Oh!” Penelope squealed. “Congratulations, Antonio. I knew it would work out for you two.”

  Fate grumbled something about vampires being disgusting.

  Kinich cleared his throat. “Eh-hem.”

  “Fate,” Penelope said, narrowing her eyes, “I’ve always wanted to say this: stop being such a bitch and shut your pie hole.” Penelope grabbed Kinich’s hand and kissed his cheek. “I love you.” She looked at Antonio. “And you are very welcome to listen in when we talk to Cimil.”

  Antonio bowed his head. “Thank you. I hope this mess doesn’t get any more complicated.”

  “You havvven’t been arounnnd very long”—Belch chuckled—“havvve you?” He raised his glass into the air. “’Cause you haven’t seen anything yet.”

  * * *

  After a short drive back to the Uchben base, where the plane had landed earlier, Penelope and Kinich took Antonio to a small building toward the edge of the compound. For the most part, it looked like your everyday administrative office—lobby, glass conference rooms, cubicles—with the exception of one thing: two large soldiers with automatic rifles standing on either side of an elevator bank toward the back.

  Antonio felt his ears pop when they reached the negative twentieth floor—twenty stories belowground.

  “What is this place?” he asked.

  The elevator doors slid open, and they stepped out into a dark hallway lit with red lights.

  “This is where our operations are housed,” Kinich explained. “There’s a control center; a bunker large enough to house tens of thousands of people if needed; a hospital, training facilities, and, of course, weapons.”

  “Don’t forget the mall, honey,” Penelope added. “And the restaurants—Oh, if you’re into beer there’s a great pub. They have a thousand different beers.”

  “Some other time perhaps,” Antonio replied politely. He wondered if they had any fare of his liking. A nice Maaskab or two to suck the life out of; he was getting a little hungry.

  “This way.” Kinich gestured toward a set of doors with a keypad on one side. He punched in the numbers and the door clicked. “This, of course, is the back entrance to the underground complex. We keep the holding cells separate from everything else.”

  Antonio entered what looked to be a rather large prison block with three tiers of cells on all sides, overlooking a caged guard station in the middle of the ground floor. Armed men in black were posted in every corner. “How many prisoners are in here?”

  “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.”