Vampires Need Not...Apply?

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  Ixtab slowly rose to face Antonio’s brother.

  “Let me guess,” he said, “Antonio didn’t tell you about me?”

  Ixtab cleared her throat. “No.” The word still came out scratchy.

  The man bobbed his head and produced an arrogant smirk. A beautiful, arrogant smirk. “Yes. He’s learned the hard way that telling women he has an identical twin isn’t the smartest move.”

  Ixtab shook her head slowly. “N-n-no. I suppose it’s not.” How could you, Universe? How? You made two copies of Francisco? Come! On! Goddamned, dramawhore!

  Wait. Hold your whoreses! This situation could no longer fall into the quirky-way-of-the-Universe category. There were two men who closely resembled the man she once loved and snubbed out? This situation had officially become an “Oh, hell no!” Something unearthly was going on.

  But what the heck was it? She didn’t have a crumb of a deity inkling.

  Hmmm… Cloning?

  No. Francisco died long ago before any technology existed to store DNA.

  Hmmm…

  Space aliens were stealing her memories and using them to create people suits to live inside?

  No. The gods had put a stop to that little cluster of a situation last year, after those Cimilites (yes, yes, they named their damned planet after her—idiots) were discovered. One would think such an advanced civilization would have been more careful to not get caught. And know that there’s only enough space in the Universe for one Lady Gaga.

  No, señor, something else had to be going on. What was it?

  Ixtab sighed and looked the man over. He was absolutely gorgeous. The same dark green eyes, powerfully built frame, and olive skin. Only this identical version had delicious waves of dark, jaw-length hair, wore plain khaki pants and a white polo. He was also warm and full of life.

  Human. Ixtab sighed. He was lovely.

  “Oh, gods,” she whispered. “Please don’t tell me your name is… Francisco.”

  Antonio’s brother laughed. “Yes, it is. How did you know?”

  Well, that explained the man tantrum Antonio had in Bacalar.

  He walked over to Ixtab and held out his hand. “My family calls me Franco for short. Francisco is what we call my father.”

  Ixtab’s pulse thumped away at a million immortal miles an hour. His father? Okay. Her goddess alarm went to DEFCON one. This situation screamed supernatural conspiracy, though she couldn’t figure out what could possibly be happening.

  She looked at Franco. Yes, he was identical to Antonio in every way. Would she be able to touch him, too? The possibility tumbled loudly in her head like a pair of sneakers in a dryer. Then she looked down at Franco’s outstretched hand. She knew she shouldn’t, but she felt entranced, as if in a bizarre dream or an alternate universe. She slowly lifted her hand to shake his.

  “Don’t fucking touch her.” Antonio moved quicker than the eye and swiped Franco’s arm away.

  Ixtab’s moral compass snapped into place. Holy crap. What had she been thinking? She cupped her hands over her veiled face. “Ohmygods, I’m so sorry.”

  You’re in shock. Yes, hot-man shock. Oh, please don’t let me see doubles. Please don’t let me see doubles. Of the doubles. Because that would be a little too ABC Family teen special.

  Franco turned and snarled at his brother. “Qué? Qué me dijiste?”

  “You heard me.” Antonio bellied up to his brother and growled in his face. “Don’t,” he said in low, quiet, menacing sort of way. “Touch. Her. Don’t ever touch her.”

  Franco laughed. “Calm the hell down, coño. I’m not going to steal her from you.” He looked at Ixtab and studied her as if attempting to decipher if what lie hidden beneath the shroud was worth competing for. Then he flashed a wicked little smile and added, “Yet.”

  Uh-oh. That meant, “Game on.” Ixtab stepped back, waiting for the boy explosion. And shockingly, some sick, twisted part of her wanted to block out the perturbing details of the situation and instead focus in on a little fantasy involving mud. Goddesses had their pervy little twin fantasies, too.

  “You’ll have to excuse my brother’s poor manners,” Franco said. “I’m afraid we have a long history with women. If you’re staying for dinner, perhaps I’ll get the chance to tell you all about it.”

  Ixtab felt oddly annoyed. She didn’t want to hear about any other women in Antonio’s life.

  “She’s not staying,” Antonio growled.

  “I’m not?” Ixtab retorted.

  “No,” Antonio replied.

  “Says who?” she asked. “Last time I checked, I superseded you on the evolutionary totem pole.” And she wasn’t going anywhere until she got to the bottom of whatever the hell was going on.

  Antonio’s eyes narrowed and his face turned a pissy shade of red.

  “I’ll leave you two lovebirds to quarrel alone.” Franco winked at Ixtab. “I hope we meet again.”

  “Don’t count on it,” grumbled Antonio, watching his brother leave.

  “Why the hell didn’t you tell me you had an evil twin?”

  Antonio studied her. “He’s not evil.”

  “Well, he doesn’t seem like the nicer version of you.”

  Antonio rubbed his brow. “He is angry with me for not being here sooner. That is all.”

  “Okay. So he’s not your evil twin. Point for Antonio. Now why the hell didn’t you tell me about him?” she asked.

  “Why would I?”

  “Well… well, I guess—I don’t know. Normally humans tell everyone such unique tidbits about their lives. They can’t help it; it makes them feel special.”

  Antonio shrugged. “I’m not human; I’m a vampire.”

  “Don’t start. Why were you hiding this? What aren’t you telling me?”

  “I’m not hiding anything.” His body went rigid.

  “Then why are you suddenly cloaked in a cloud of bloated cockiness? For the record, bloated cockiness is the same as cockiness, but without the legitimacy factor. Kind of like when a really stupid person tells you how they rock at Jeopardy! when you know that isn’t the case.”

  Anger simmered in his eyes. “I’m not hiding anything. And I do not appreciate your questioning my integrity.”

  “Oh. Look at that. You just moved up the ladder to defensive cocky. Why do men always do that? Instead of simply owning up when they’ve been caught lying, they behave as if they’re at a cocky poker game. I’ll see your defensive cockiness and raise you to colossal cock,” she said in a deep mocking voice. “Oh, well then, I’ll see your colossal cock and raise you…” Ixtab burst out laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” he growled.

  She exhausted her chuckle while he glared. “Oh—I made a joke! Get it? I’ll see your colossal… oh, never mind. Where was I?” She cleared her throat. “Oh yeah. You’re totally hiding something.”

  “Am not.” He stepped forward.

  “Are too.” She stepped forward, leaving an inch between them. She could smell his sweet breath and feel his energy seeping into her veins. Gods, she wanted to kiss him.

  His head dipped an inch, as if he were thinking the same, but then he stopped and turned to leave. “I need to go see my father.”

  She grabbed his arm. “You just went. Stop running and tell me. Why didn’t you ever mention the woman? And your twin? I know something is going on, something bad. I can sense it in the air.” He didn’t respond but once again, she felt the fear and suffering building inside him. “Maybe I can help.”

  “My father is dying, and there is much to settle before he moves on.”

  So that was why Antonio was here. “I’m sorry.” She stroked his arm, not knowing if it was to comfort him or fuel her need to touch him.

  “So am I.”

  Of course. It was never easy for anyone to lose a parent. This had to be weighing heavily on his soul, and here she was poking the bear, picking a fight with him during his time of need. Gods, she was such a bitch. “Is there anything I can do?”

&n
bsp; “I wish you could. But no.”

  “Are you sure? If the cause is something dark.” She swallowed, knowing this entire place felt poisoned.

  Antonio shook his head and she could swear she saw his eyes tear up. She’d never seen a vampire cry over anything. They were too tough. They were numb. They were like those little calluses on the edge of her big toe that no amount of pumicing could remove.

  “How long has he got?” she asked.

  “Not long. A few days, perhaps.”

  “Your mother must be heartbroken,” she said.

  “My mother died after giving birth to us, so it’s just me and my brother now.”

  “If there’s anything I can do, say the word,” she said. “I never had parents, but I know it can’t be easy to lose him.”

  “I’m not worried about losing my father. The bastard can rot in hell for all I care.”

  Whoa! That was unexpected. “I’m not following.”

  He rubbed has hands over his face. “I have to go. If you need anything, ask Kirstie, our maid.” He stopped and looked at her, his gorgeous olive eyes filled with distress, a distress that spiked her heart. “Ixtab?”

  “Yes?”

  “I must open the tablet tonight.”

  “You’re not going to tell me why, are you?” she asked.

  He shook his head no.

  Ixtab watched Antonio leave. Nothing about his situation felt right. Nothing about it made any sense. It was hands down the oddest situation she’d ever been in. Even stranger than the time Cimil threw a chocolate fondue party—for the record, there were no strawberries or cake for dipping; there was only… Cimil. But as bizarre and painful as this situation had become, nothing was worse than the hollowness burning inside. She could no longer deny that she felt something for Antonio. And it killed her to know that he wanted this other woman.

  Who was she?

  Reason number eleven: vampires are really good at keeping secrets.

  She had to know what was going on before that portal opened, and there wasn’t much time. She scratched her itchy veil. The answer seemed to be staring her right in the face. Perhaps if she got away from the darkness of this house, she would be able to think clearly.

  She picked up her phone and called for her chauffeur.

  Chapter Veinticuatro

  “Hola. Me llamo Ixtab, pero mis amigos me llaman Ixy.” Ixtab stood before a group of roughly twenty people sitting on steel-gray foldout chairs in a small room toward the back of the village town hall. The dingy yellow walls were blanketed with fliers, including a shocking amount of missing persons photos—mostly women.

  It had taken Ixtab’s driver over thirty minutes to find the nearest AA meeting—or anything-A meeting—however, Ixtab’s fuzzy head had benefited from the afternoon drive through the historic town.

  “Hola, Ixy,” the group replied.

  “Hola. I know I’ve compelled everyone in this room, so it’s not as if you have a choice in the matter, but I do want to thank you for being here. I’ve got a lot on my mind.” She began telling the nearly comatose crowd all her woes, including the odd bit about the look-alikes: Francisco, Antonio, and his twin. Yet divulging the facts didn’t help her sort out this mess in her head as she’d hoped. Too many pieces were still missing.

  “So, any clues?” she asked.

  A few random grumbles came from the group, and then, “If you ask me, señorita, you should stay away from that house and that family. They are cursed and everyone knows it.” Ixtab took a good look at the man in his eighties wearing thick glasses and a moth-eaten sweater.

  “Cursed? What kind of ‘cursed’?”

  No one responded. And this was why the art of compelling rocked. “Tell me now. I command you,” she said directly to the old man.

  “They say the father is possessed by the devil. He steals the souls of young women.” The old man pointed to the wall and then went on to say that the police had investigated the family many times over the decades. Dozens of missing women had been traced back to the estate, but each time the charges were dropped without explanation. “Any policeman who goes into the house never remembers ever being there.”

  Red goddess flag!

  Speaking of compelling, is that what Antonio’s father been doing? Crap. Could he be a vampire, too? But then, why was he dying? No. That didn’t make any sense. Perhaps it was the case of an overly superstitious people. These small towns loved their spooky legends.

  In any case, Ixtab already had to check out Antonio’s father on the top of her list. Whatever was going on—the dark energy in that house, Antonio’s obsession with the tablet, his twin—she’d bet her favorite red flip-flops that the father was the key to everything. “Thanks everyone, this noodling session was really helpful.”

  She was about to leave but had a last-minute thought. “Hey, can I ask you guys another question?”

  No response.

  “I command you to nod.”

  They nodded.

  “Thank you. You’re a fantastic group of people. I really mean that.” Ixtab talked through her rather confusing feelings for Antonio, as well as the fact that he’d said he was meant for this other woman.

  “So, what do you guys think? What should I do?” Ixtab asked. “Be honest,” she added, compelling them to speak the truth.

  “You must tell him, and for God’s sake, take that stupid curtain off your face. It looks like you’re going to give a puppet show on your head,” said the elderly man.

  Okay. Maybe the compelling thing wasn’t all that great.

  “Just… take it off? Like that?” she asked.

  Everyone nodded.

  “Now?”

  Maybe they were right; she’d been wearing the damned thing for a few centuries. At first, she’d said it was to pay penance for the horrible things she had done and to keep the world at arm’s length. Perhaps the real reason was that she was a coward. She’d used the veil to keep everyone away, not because she feared for them, but because she simply feared becoming attached to anyone only to lose them. Yes, perhaps her sister Fate had been right. Ixtab was a coward. The funny part was that it took a vampire to show her that.

  She looked down at her toes. Though it was winter, she wore her pink flip-flops and her toes were painted her favorite pearly pink. She chuckled at herself. What was she doing wearing this ridiculous costume? This wasn’t her. In fact, all this time, she’d never been able to give up the sundresses and sandals she wore underneath.

  I never could let go of who I am on the inside.

  She loved laughter, though she clearly sucked at making jokes; she loved warm, sunny days and watching flowers bloom. She loved how she could create happiness by removing the darkness from a poor soul’s heart—a young mother with depression, a spouse who’d lost his or her partner, or a kid who felt left out in life. She loved that she could make their pain simply vanish and allow them to see that tomorrow was another day filled with hope and the possibility of a good life, a happy life.

  No. She wasn’t death or darkness or evil. She was good. She was also complex and imperfect. Like any one of the Creator’s creatures.

  She looked up at the eager faces before her. “Actually, I love happiness. I adore it!” Yes. Happiness was her biggest power. Her true gift. Why hadn’t she ever seen it before? From this moment forward, she would be known as the Goddess of Happiness. Okay, sure, she would still need to do something with that negative energy she extracted from nice people, and that meant the unlucky country-club members would be stricken with the urge to jump out a window or something of the like, but that did not discount the fact that she saved many, many deserving souls.

  She reached for her veil and stopped. Could she do this? Show these people her face? Yes, it was time to move on and turn over a new leaf.

  “Go ahead,” said a nice woman with a red sweater and a bright smile. “We are waiting.”

  “Okay, here goes.” Ixtab slid off her veil and murmurs of approval erupted from the crow
d.

  “You see,” said the woman, “that wasn’t so hard. Now was it?”

  Ixtab shook her head. “It feels good.” She took in the sensation of being bare and exposed. How would if feel when she showed herself to Antonio? What if he still chose this other woman? “What if he doesn’t want me?” she mumbled.

  “Love is always a risk,” said the elderly man. “But a life without love is a life not worth living.”

  Wise words.

  “All right. Time for me to face him and whatever else awaits.” She stopped. “Oh, and… everyone here now hates alcohol—so you’re free to live a happy life if you choose—and you’ll forget I was ever here. ’Kay?”

  The crowd nodded absently with smiles plastered on their faces.

  Goddess of Happiness strikes again!

  Thirty minutes later, Ixtab arrived back at the estate, but there were no signs of anyone. She’d returned the veil to her head, wanting Antonio to be the first to see her, and right now, it was time to have a chat with Antonio’s father.

  Ixtab went upstairs and heard a small rustle coming from the hallway. She followed the noise and saw one of the doors ajar. She pushed on the dark-stained cherrywood, but found the room empty. Empty of people that was.

  Ixtab sniffed the air. It was a large study with dust-covered, floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with antique leather-bound books. To one side of the room was a large desk—also made of stained dark wood and equally old as everything else in the study. Yes, though innocent looking enough, darkness stuck to everything.

  Ixtab’s eyes roamed the shelves. From the look of the books’ ages, they’d been purchased at the time the estate had been built. She plucked a copy of the Divine Comedy off the shelf and thumbed through the pages, then replaced it. Amateur…

  The faint sound of voices shouting began pouring into the room. She spun around and noticed the sounds came from the other side of the bookshelf. She leaned in, realizing there was a hidden room.

  The yelling grew louder, and though the voices were muffled, she heard Antonio speaking in Spanish to another man who sounded weak and old. His father.