Accidentally...Cimil?

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  Oh my gods. I think he’s starting a fire down there! The delicious friction was more than I could stand. I pulled away from his lips, wanting to see his exquisitely masculine face.

  Lids heavy, he looked into my eyes, and… screamed at the top of his lungs!

  He threw me, and I tumbled off the bed onto the cold stone floor. “What the hell?”

  I peeked over the edge of the bed to see him writhing in pain, cupping the fabric over his penis.

  Oops. I forgot to tell him about that. “Um… Narmer.” I reached his shoulder and tapped, but he simply rolled back and forth, agonizing.

  “Narmer?”

  “Aaaah. What?” he groaned.

  “About that little raging fire on your totem pole. I, uh—”

  “You will pay for this, goddess.” He sat up, putting his back to me.

  “What?”

  His face, beet red, turned toward me. “You think you can make a fool of me? Don’t you?”

  Why… of course I did, but I thought that of everyone! Nuff said. But why had he thought I’d done that on purpose? Had he forgotten he’d put that stupid collar on me? I had no powers. But that didn’t mean I could help what I was. My body still radiated concentrated energy. I was a goddess, after all, made of pure light. The form he saw with his eyes was merely a shell that allowed me to enter the physical realm, the realm of humans. But I wasn’t human, and he wasn’t a deity. We weren’t compatible. In fact, prolonged exposure would kill him. Fry him right up like a side of bacon. Crispy king.

  There was no getting around it; I was destined to be alone forever.

  Still on the floor, I turned away and pulled my knees into my chest, my now empty, dark, heavy chest, and began to cry.

  Yes. I know. Deities don’t cry. But they do when they realize there is no hope for them.

  “More of your trickery, I see,” he bellowed. “But your lies and womanly deceits will not work on me.”

  “Just go! Leave!” I screamed. It was bad enough I was crying. Me, the Goddess of the Underworld!

  I heard the shuffle of his feet across the floor as he circled the bed and made his way over. “I command you to stop crying!”

  “No!”

  He grabbed my arm and pulled me from the floor, gripping me by the shoulders. “Yes. You will. You will cease this attempt to manipulate me and make your vow to me. You will desist this attempt to make a fool of me!”

  “You really don’t get it, do you?” I barked, trying to wiggle from his grasp. “You’ve already been made a fool of! I can’t be your queen. I can’t be anyone’s queen. Deities and humans are not compatible. That little ‘trick,’ as you called it, was just the chemistry of our bodies reacting.”

  “What is this thing you call ‘chemistry’?” he asked.

  Ugh. It was a futurist term. “It means that your body is like wood and mine is like lightning. Put us together and they create fire.”

  He loosened his grip. “You are telling the truth?”

  I nodded.

  He rubbed his forehead and then turned to leave.

  “Wait. Where are you going?” I asked.

  “To find magic to fix this.” He disappeared through the doorway.

  I dropped my head and made tiny circles with my fingertips over my temples. “What are you doing, Cimil? He’s going to die soon, and you’re playing fantasy hookup! With a mortal.” I sighed loudly. Not because I was disappointed at myself, but because there was no magic to fix this, and for the first time ever, I really wanted something I couldn’t have: a human. A human who was about to expire and would likely end up being one of those stubborn-ass souls I had to drag to the other side by the earlobes, kicking and howling the entire way.

  This situation screamed tragedy.

  “I must be crazy, batshit crazy.”

  Chapter Five

  Carrying his favorite knife, Narmer burst into the priest’s bedchamber, startling the old man and the three women who were nude and apparently giving him a full body massage before bedtime.

  Disgusting. How can they bear to touch him? Narmer resisted retching.

  “Out! All of you!” Narmer roared at the women who grabbed their dresses and fled.

  The priest scrambled from his bed and placed his back against the wall. “Now, calm down, my king. I’m sure this is simply some misunderstanding.”

  “You tricked me! And I am not your king! You are not worthy of being even my lowliest subject. I am your executioner!” Narmer pushed the long knife to the man’s neck.

  The priest clawed at Narmer’s hand. “You are upset, I see,” the priest croaked.

  “The goddess is unable to lie with me. She says we are not physically compatible—fire and wood.” Narmer bounced the man’s back against the wall. “I swear by the gods, you will fix this!”

  “I cannot.”

  “Cannot or will not?”

  “Cannot,” Mitnal said. “You may kill me, but what you ask is something I do not have the power to give. My magic is not strong enough.”

  Narmer released the man and ran his hand over his hair. He needed a divine queen. He needed to have heirs. He wanted Cimil. Her sharp tongue and obstinate ways made her more alluring than any female he’d ever met, and there had been many. In his earlier years, he would bed two or three women each night. They lined up outside his door, hoping to be the one to permanently catch his eye or mother his child. But the gods had not willed it, and he saw nothing in these women except greed for his wealth and power. They left him feeling hollow, unsated, and more frustrated than when he started. This was why he eventually came to the conclusion that only a female his equal, a truly unique and powerful female, would suit him. Of course, being who he was, the ruler of the most glorious and advanced civilization known to all, meant that no one equaled him. He had the blood of the gods running in his veins. Yes, only a full-blooded goddess would do.

  “If what I ask is beyond your powers,” Narmer said, “does this mean you know of another way?”

  The evil man smiled with an evil grin.

  “Name your price,” Narmer commanded.

  The priest laughed nervously. “The price is far too high.”

  “I will kill you right here and now if you do not tell me.”

  “Very well,” Mitnal said, “the price is your life.”

  He was mad. “I am fairly certain that my death would not solve the issue.”

  “You will not truly die, but be born again into another form, one which can withstand the touch of a deity. You will be strong and immortal, almost as resilient as a true god.”

  “How do you know this?” Narmer asked.

  “My people have long pursued immortality.”

  This sounded dangerous. If the gods wished humans to live forever, then they would have created them in such a way. “This is impossible.”

  Mitnal held up his hands and wiggled his filthy fingers. “No. Not impossible. I have already succeeded with small creatures. We merely lack the power to make a human immortal.” His eyes widened into horrifying orbs of black and red. “You can change that.”

  Narmer stepped back. The man is a vile, deceitful creature. He did not trust this Mitnal. There was some ulterior motive lurking inside the man’s head. But what? Did he want the throne? Narmer’s gold? Perhaps he could persuade the crazy man to disclose his true plans.

  “What must I do?” Narmer asked.

  “You must gain her trust and then convince her to come see me, to trust me.”

  Again with this request? Mitnal had this planned all along. He was after stronger magic. Deity magic.

  “And what assurances do I have,” Narmer asked, “that you will not use her in some way to make yourself more powerful and then refuse to assist me?”

  The priest rubbed his greasy palms together. “You have my good word, my king.”

  Disgusting, filthy pile of rotting monkey meat. Whatever plan the priest had, helping Narmer was only a means to an end.

  “She will not tr
ust you,” he said. “She trusts no one. Find another way for me to bed her. I give you eight days.”

  * * *

  The next week was unlike anything I’d ever experienced in my sixty-five thousand years. The pharaoh would come each evening after his bath, face meticulously shaved—an Egyptian obsession—his tanned skin and perfectly chiseled muscles gleaming with fragrant oils, his long black hair washed and braided. I began to wonder about the females who attended to him. Were they young and beautiful? Did they offer up their nubile bodies and provide him the pleasures of the flesh I could not? (Nipple tweaking, back waxing, deep pore cleansing.) My fists curled each time I visualized those little Tut-sluts massaging his enormous sarcophagus or playing with his treasure chest. My only consolation was that they were not getting what I had, his adoration.

  We spent each night discussing the confines of our lives, the boundaries and expectations that created an invisible prison we could not escape. He would lie next to me and tell stories of his deceased mother and father, of his twenty-five siblings (all but five of them half-siblings) and how their one mission in life, when growing up, was to escape the watchful eye of their guards for a few precious moments of mischief and recreation. He spoke of how empty his life became the moment he realized his brothers and sisters would turn on him if given the chance to rule in his place.

  I talked about my world, the souls I escorted, and of my brethren. I recounted my first memories of consciousness, vaguely realizing what I was, but not understanding the full weight of the eternal shackles binding me to the Universe.

  We kissed and touched many times each night, only stopping when my energy became too intense for him or when I felt the need to recite a haiku. About a sea turtle. (Don’t ask.)

  Each time he broke free, I saw the torment in his eyes. Not only was he denied his pleasure, but also his male ego did not enjoy leaving me wanting—it reminded me of the Home Shopping Network. Then he would fall asleep next to me, and I would drift off to the netherworld, hearing the voices of the dead laughing and howling as they played poker. I’d never felt closer or such an intimate connection with anyone in my entire life.

  Heaven. He was my little slice of man-succulent heaven.

  When Narmer entered on the seventh night, however, I knew something was wrong. He hadn’t had his usual bath, and his skin was covered with desert dirt and sweat. He paced across the room at the foot of the bed.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I cannot bear this any longer,” he growled.

  “Bear what?”

  His head snapped in my direction. “This!”

  I rolled to my side and propped my head up on my arm. “Care to elaborate? Because if you’re tired of being in this room, then all you need to do is lift the spell. While you’re at it, you can remove my collar, too.” I shrugged. “Who knows, maybe I’ll find a way to show my gratitude.” I popped my index finger in my mouth and sucked in a suggestive manner.

  Okay, so I couldn’t do that without setting the royal totem pole on fire, but the thought alone made me start to sweat. I wanted this man. I wanted him so badly that my toenails throbbed. But more importantly, I wanted to enjoy him every second I could get. He would die soon.

  Don’t get me wrong, I’d thought about ways to help him, but the only means of saving a mortal was to take them to my world and saturate them with the light of the gods. I’d have to convince my brethren to allow this, and they hadn’t granted this gift in twenty thousand years. They were like stubborn children who didn’t want to share their candy. If I went against them, they would banish me forever. Or, at the very least, for a really, really, really, really, reallllllly long time. That said, I was almost ready to roll the dice and do it anyway. I simply wanted a sign. A teeny tiny sign that this was what I was supposed to do.

  Narmer’s body visibly pulsed with tension. “I want you, Cimil. I want you very much. When I asked the gods for a queen, a true goddess, I hoped for a female I could respect. One who might be intelligent and powerful to help me rule, but you…” He marched over to the bed, his eyes sweeping over my stretched-out body. “You are all that and more. I would give anything to lie with you as a man lies with a woman.”

  “Ah, sexual frustration. My constant companion.” I nodded my head knowing exactly how he felt. “But didn’t you say you had your secret friend working on a solution? By the way, you never told me his name, but I’d like to meet him; he’s got some pretty rockin’ juju. However, he is in need of a very long spanking for assisting you in your plot to capture me.”

  I looked up at Narmer’s body. Every muscle quaked and trembled with agitation.

  “Oh, my little love turnip is upset. Shall I meow for you?” I clawed the air.

  “This is no joke, Cimil. I lost my temper today with one of my brothers. He and his followers have been positioning themselves for years, trying to raise an army to overthrow me. They say my dream of unifying our people is impossible, that I am mad!”

  I shrugged. “Tell them to pound sand. There’s plenty of that around here—should keep ’em busy for a while.”

  “I do not know this expression, but I assume you mean I should send them elsewhere.” Narmer dropped his head. “I should have done that, but I did not.”

  Uh-oh. “What did you do?”

  “I beat my brother in front of my entire council.”

  That’s when I noticed his bloody knuckles. Ouch. “Is he alive?” ’Cause Narmer was huge. I mean, huuuuuge. I couldn’t imagine that many would survive a thumping from the king himself.

  “Yes. But he has sworn his revenge. This is exactly the spark they hoped for. War is imminent.”

  I felt the internal conflict bubbling in my chest. I wanted to tell Narmer to let his brother have the kingdom, to run away with me and enjoy what little time he had left. But I knew in my heart that my telling him the truth would create the opposite effect. Humans tended to spiral into a state of depression when they knew death neared. Narmer would spend his final days feeling defeated and miserable.

  The only option was to kidnap him and petition the gods to make him immortal. “I will help you, Narmer, but you must free me,” I said.

  He stared at me. “You will make the vow?”

  What the hell? “We’re back to this again? Seriously, Narmer?” I popped up from the bed and got in his face—errr, well—chin. I got in his chin. He was really tall. “You stupid, arrogant, insane—”

  He reached down and cupped the back of my head and pulled me into him for a deep, needy kiss. My body melted against his delicious male heat.

  He slowly pulled away and gazed into my eyes. “I am unable to remove the barrier or the collar, even if I so desired, my love. You are the only one who holds the key to breaking the spell.”

  So the little devil had lied to me. He could not remove it. Sneaky, little pharaoh. Gods, I think I love this man.

  “However,” he added, “if it will make you feel more comfortable, I will first make my vow to you.” Once again he kissed me deeply, passionately. My mind swirled with new emotions and with a fire I’d quickly and irrationally become addicted to. I’m pretty damned sure his lips were feeling the fire, too. Touching me for any length of time was no fun.

  He kneeled and stared up with his dark eyes.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “I, Narmer, son of Ka and king of Egypt, vow to you, Cimil, Goddess of the Underworld, my eternal soul, my eternal loyalty, my eternal love—”

  I blinked and Narmer was on his side, blood oozing from his chest, a giant spear sticking from him.

  I pivoted on my heel and saw two men standing in the doorway, one with his arm cocked, ready to throw another spear. I reached toward the small table at the side of the bed, grabbed a vase, and threw it right at his head. It landed with a loud crack and the man dropped. The second man scrambled for the spear and came at me. I ducked and spun, avoiding the razor-sharp tip of his spear, and ended up behind him.

  Sorry, buddy,
but in my sixty-five thousand years, one thing I’ve learned is how to fight. I grabbed the man from behind, wishing I could reach inside him and yank out his fucking soul; however, I still didn’t have my powers. Instead, I settled for hanging on tight and letting nature take its course. In this case, that meant allowing my energy to flow into his body. The man howled and dropped to the floor, his body smoking. I picked up the spear and ran it straight through his heart. Evil bastard.

  I looked over at Narmer who hacked blood into crimson puddles.

  “No. Oh, gods, no!” That’s when I realized that I wasn’t ready to let him go. Not now. Not ever. I couldn’t imagine a future, an eternity without him by my side. It was like discovering cheesecake and finding out the only chef in the world who knew how to make it had jumped off a cliff. Narmer made life taste so good, and I wanted more. He understood me. He saw me for who I really was, and yet, he still loved me, wanted me.

  I kneeled next to him. “Don’t leave me, you bastard.” My mind raced through the solutions but found only one. I would have him free Minky. We’d dart off to my portal, and I would take him back to my world. Damn the gods if they didn’t agree with my choice to grant him immortality. What was the point of being a goddess if I couldn’t use the tools given to us by the Universe?

  “Narmer, honey.” I stroked back the dark locks from his face. “Tell me where you put Minky.”

  Narmer groaned. “Are you going to leave me now that I am dying?”

  “No, you silly man, I am going to save you.”

  “Your creature was taken to the Temple of Bastet.”

  Camel crap. That was on the other side of the city.

  “You might not live that long. Dammit all to hell! There has to be another way.”

  Something flickered in his eyes. “If you see Mitnal, whatever you do…” Narmer’s eyes rolled into his head and he passed out.

  Oh my gods. Oh my gods. He only had minutes at best; I had to do something.

  “I, Yum Cimil, Goddess of the Underworld, vow eternal loyalty to you, Narmer, pharaoh of Egypt. For as long as I live, my heart and soul belong to you and no other. I love you. I love you. Please don’t die,” I cried.