But for the time being…
Chaam laid her down on the dock and hovered over her. His silhouette against the night sky was awe-inspiring. With his mouth he sought for her neck and swept her hair to one side. As he did, the necklace she wore became tangled in her wet mane and pulled uncomfortably on a few strands at her nape. She gave the chain a little tug and it broke free, but not before ripping a clump of hair out with it.
She screamed as scorching, searing pain ripped through her. She fell to the side, writhing in agony. Had her body been torn into two?
“Maggie!” She heard Chaam screaming in some dark corner of her mind. “Maggie. Speak to me!”
She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move. She was going to die this very moment, and now he would suffer for eternity.
Blackness.
Chapter 6
November 2, 1934 (Day of the Dead)
Chaam stared at Maggie’s immobile body stretched across the dock. What the hell just happened?
He dropped to his knees and placed his ear over her heart. The organ thrummed for two blissful seconds and then produced a choppy monstrosity of sound reminiscent of a cat walking across the keys of a piano.
He jerked his head up and then lowered it again, hovering just above her chest. The heartbeat returned to normal.
He repeated the act of touching her and breaking contact twice more. Each time produced the same result. Until he placed the necklace over her stomach.
Christ, no. This cannot be.
Maggie began to stir. “Chaam?” she asked with a bleary voice.
He resisted having a very unmanly display of hysterics. “Thank the gods, you’re all right.”
She sat up and rubbed her red eyes. It was nearly dawn now, the sky a brilliant pallet of pinks and lavenders. “What happened?”
His relief and shock shifted to wrath. “This happened.” He held up the tiny teardrop-shaped black stone mounted on a smooth silver plaque.
She reached for the vacant spot on her neck.
“Where did you get this?” he demanded.
“Why are you angry?”
He crouched and touched her arm.
“Ouch!” She jerked away.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
“But I don’t understa—”
“Tell me!” he screamed.
She held out her palms. “Chaam. You’re scaring me. What’s going on?”
“The Maaskab sent you, didn’t they? You were sent to destroy me.”
Maggie choked down the thick lump of dread stuck in her throat. One moment she’d been basking in Chaam’s warmth and affection, the next she was lying on the dock, her insides charred. To top it off, she’d woken to a completely different Chaam. This version was cold, furious, and deadly.
Why? And what was this thing—a maskib?—he’d accused her of being?
“Get dressed.” He tossed the dress to her side. She noticed he now wore his white trousers.
She quickly stood and slipped her dress over her head while her mind bounced against a brick wall. She didn’t know what to do. Run perhaps? Something told her that would only make matters worse.
Reason with him. “You need to explain why you are upset.”
“Upset? Gods don’t get upset, Maggie. We get furious, and then we exact our justice.” Terrifying rage flickered in his eyes.
“What did I do?” She stepped back.
“Don’t play stupid. This sort of dark power can only come from one place.” He held up the necklace.
He’s angry over that? “I don’t know what you’re talking about. My father gave it to me.”
“And where did he obtain it? Tell me!” He grabbed her arms. The contact sent tiny shards of hot glass charging through her veins.
She jerked way, gasping in pain. “I don’t know. The ruin, I guess. Why?” She used the air in her lungs to straighten her spine.
He brought his nose to hers and snarled like a monster. “Tell them that they will all burn in hell. The Maaskab will never defeat us. They will never have this world.”
“What are you talking about?” she said.
He stilled for several moments. “Never mind. I will tell them myself. I’m sure your father will know where to find them.”
He turned away and marched off into the jungle.
“No! You’re going to hurt him!” Oh my God! Oh my God. “No! Please, please don’t do this!”
She ran after him but found herself alone in the middle of a stand of trees, without shoes, without knowing where she was going, without knowing how everything had gone so wrong.
She sank to her knees. Why had he turned on her?
Chaam stormed into the brush, pushing down tree after tree to release his anger. How could he have been such a fool? To pathetically believe Maggie was his mate, sent by the universe.
Pathetic fucking fool. Maggie was just an ordinary human with a Maaskab necklace. Well, he surmised it was Maaskab. Those evil bastards had been around since the dawn of the Mayan era. Originally, they had been run-of-the-mill priests. But where there is power to be had, evil always lurks. Centuries of quiet power struggles had eventually led to their outright bloodshed and decimation of the population. Those who could, escaped, and the Mayan civilization collapsed.
It had been a very dark hour for the gods. They should have intervened; they should have taken the Maaskab down, but their laws prohibited influencing the evolution of humanity unless the path led to complete destruction. At the time, it had not.
Chaam looked toward the early morning sky. Above him perched a black and yellow toucan with a red-tipped beak, staring with needy eyes. “For fuck’s sake. Fine! I’ll help you with your mate, but you will tell me where to find Maggie’s father.”
The bird squawked.
The ruin wasn’t far. Just a few minutes northwest. “Lead the way, Romeo.”
The toucan fluttered off its branch and flew to the next tree and to the next. Chaam’s angry march continued along with his mental rant.
Perhaps the Creator didn’t exist and there was no such divine intelligence in the universe. Perhaps he and all gods were simply creatures of evolution, instinctually wired to rescue humans. Perhaps there was a way to break this compulsion. Dammit. He deserved to live freely, without the toxic albatross of humanity driving his every move. He was tired of this torment. And now the one brilliant light at the end of his tunnel had been shut off.
Images of Maggie infiltrated his mind, exacerbating his rage. How could she turn out to be Maaskab, of all things?
Chaam’s rational mind clicked and began tamping down the barrage of irrational emotions. Idiot. There are no female Maaskab—only female slaves and sacrificial victims waiting to happen.
Maggie could never be anything but innocent and loyal.
Fucking hell. How could you accuse her of being a Maaskab? He’d seen her soul. It was pure light.
He stopped in his tracks. “Where the fuck are we?”
The toucan fluttered to a small dirt hill, flapped its colorful wings, and flew off.
To the untrained eye, it appeared as a giant mound, overgrown with vines and small trees. But to one side a dark doorway, about four feet high and three feet wide, stood.
Chaam stared at the entrance for several moments while the gravity of his behavior positioned itself into a stranglehold.
It had been his fear talking earlier. He’d succumbed to it. He’d let it pollute his mind.
Gods dammit. He’d fucked up, plain and simple. Maggie was his destiny. She had been brought into his life to help him find comfort in his eternal role as a deity. And who gave a shit if his ability to touch her and hold her came from a dark Maaskab relic? Dammit. It didn’t matter.
Maggie said her father had given her the necklace as a gift. It probably came from this very spot, which might very well be an ancient Maaskab temple. Her father likely thought it was a meaningless rock.
Point was, he could figure all that out later. Fate had brought th
e necklace to Maggie and Maggie to him.
So why the fuck was he standing there staring at an old decaying ruin? He needed to find her and beg forgiveness. Then he would take her through the cenote and fill her with the light of the gods, making her immortal. The rest could—
A gut-wrenching female scream exploded from the temple.
What the hell? Adrenaline charged through his humanlike body. He bolted inside only to find an empty, dark, wet chamber, corroded with tree roots, spider webs, and the dank smell of…
Holy hell. Death. It permeated every wall. And the narrow stairway to the right of the tiny chamber reeked with it. This was the unmistakable scent of Maaskab.
Another scream echoed through the air.
He quietly neared the narrow opening that led to a set of slippery, mold-covered stone steps. With his wide shoulders, he would barely fit into the passage.
The violent scream turned into a muffled moan.
Shit. Chaam squeezed his way down and saw what he’d hoped he would not.
The scrappy-looking man had the tip of a knife buried into the young woman’s chest just above her heart. He had tied her to a slab of stone, with a rag jammed in her mouth.
“Let her go,” Chaam commanded.
Startled, the man jumped and turned the blade toward Chaam.
Chaam held out his palms. “Dr. O’Hare?”
“Who the hell are you?”
“I know your daughter Maggie. She sent me to look for you.” Sort of…
The man tilted his head. “You know my Maggie?”
“Yes. And she’s very worried about you. Drop the knife, and we can go find her.” Sweat trickled down Chaam’s back. He’d never been so nervous in his entire existence. Not when he’d faced an entire army of evil vampires. Not when ten legions of Roman soldiers, hell bent on slaughtering him and his brother Votan, barreled down on them. No. Not even then. But now, in this cold, dark chamber, he felt like a sizzling pig on a hot campfire spindle. Maggie’s father had gone mad from sorrow; he stank of it. But could Chaam save him? Curing erectile dysfunction was not the same as mending a broken heart; although both were powerful organs that responded well to sex.
“I said, drop the fucking knife, you idiot. I’m a god. You can’t kill me. At best you’ll stick me with the blade, piss me off, and end up dead. Neither of us wants that.”
The man stood silent, his wild eyes accessing Chaam. From the smell of it, he hadn’t been washed in weeks and neither had his grimy khaki trousers and matching shirt.
“How the hell do you know what I want?” the man finally said.
Funny, he hadn’t commented on the god thing. That usually provoked one of two responses in others: They either believed him and became as scared as shit, or they thought he was crazy, which also scared the crap out of them. Neither was the case today.
“Of course, I know what you want. Your wife,” Chaam replied. “You want her back. But whatever you’re doing won’t work. By the way, what the hell are you doing?”
The man’s veins bulged on his wrist and the dagger trembled. “You’re wrong. The tablet can bring her back.”
Tablet?
Chaam noticed a black tablet the size of a tombstone lying under the woman’s head. Likely it was a remnant of some twisted Maaskab decoration.
Chaam nodded. “If what you say is correct, then we will find a way to bring back your wife without taking the young woman’s life.”
The man ran his free hand through his short greasy hair. The torches mounted to the wall flickered, illuminating his dark, empty eyes.
Fuck.
In that brief moment, Chaam peered into the man’s soul. Black. Fucking black. Not brown. Not grey. Black. No redemption. Kill on the spot. This was law.
Dammit. The man must have been fucking around down there for weeks. Who knew what sort of dark Maaskab bullshit he’d found?
Chaam sucked in a deep breath, hoping that in time his sweet Maggie would heal. And with more time, grow to forgive him.
“Chaam? What’s going on?” Maggie’s panicked voice echoed through the chamber.
Christ no. “Leave, Maggie!” He did not want to have to execute her father right in front of her.
Confusion swept across her face the moment she registered the sight of her father gripping a large dagger. “Daddy? What are you doing? Why is Itzel tied to that altar?”
Chaam swallowed. She’d obviously just figured out her father was not right. “Maggie, honey, just leave—”
“Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare call me ‘honey’! Not after what you did!”
“What did you do to her?” Her father took one step forward with his trembling knife. “Did you touch my daughter?”
Oh hell. The man was going to attack, and Chaam’s mind was ten steps ahead. Step ten, destruction. Him. Maggie. Their hope for a future. It was one thing to kill her father, but it was another to make her watch.
Perhaps he could convince the man to come quietly.
Maggie’s father turned away toward the altar, raised the knife, and jerked it toward the young woman’s heart. Chaam lunged and caught the knife just in time with one hand. With his other free hand, Chaam wrenched the man’s neck. Blood poured from a tear at the base of the man’s skull as he fell over the woman on the altar. His red syrupy liquid flowed onto her face and she gurgled in horror, then passed out.
Suddenly, a violent wind kicked up inside the chamber behind him. Chaam watched in terror as a black empty vortex sucked Maggie inside.
“No!” He leapt forward, reaching for Maggie.
Horror filled her face as she reached for him, too, and for a brief moment, their eyes met. So many unspoken words passed between them. She knew Chaam was sorry for what he’d done, and she forgave him. “I love you,” her eyes said.
She loves me?
She slid away, disappearing into the darkness.
Wherever she was going, he would join her. He would not pass one second of his existence without her, without being able to tell her he loved her back.
He lunged forward and slammed into a cold, dark wall.
The portal closed.
Chaam’s heart turned a million shades of darkness.
Chapter 7
Sprawled out on the floor, Chaam’s head lolled from side to side. Maggie was gone. Maggie was gone. Maggie. Was. Gone. And mind-crippling rage was first on the scene. Self-loathing, the second to arrive. And third…
“Found him!” Cimil stood at the bottom of the steps, happy as an evil clam, pointing at Maggie’s father’s lifeless body.
“Fucking hell, Cimil,” he groaned.
“Wow.” She rolled her head and surveyed the room. “Looks like you had quite the shin-diggedy-dig party. Didn’t know bloodbaths were back in fashion. Personally, I’m tired of mud, so yippy! It’s my lucky day!”
She was always so damned evil. And late. “Where the hell have you been?”
“I stopped to have this frock-o-licious ensemble made. And by made, I mean I stole it.” She now wore an elaborately beaded white dress. “My mariachi suit was a loaner, and el Señor Trumpet had a wedding gig. But lucky me, I found this. Boy, did that bride look pissed. Maybe Señor Trumpet will loan her his outfit.” She grinned. “So, you need some help, yes?”
He scraped himself up off the grimy, blood-soaked floor and charged. She moved to the side, away from his open claw, but wasn’t fast enough. He slammed her against the wall. “Fuck you. This is your fault. You were supposed to find Maggie’s father.”
“Yeah. Funny you should mention that,” she grunted. “I actually took a peekee-poo into the future and saw all paths led to this one. No escape.”
He released her. “What are you saying?”
Cimil rubbed her neck. “This was Fate’s plan all along. You were meant to lose Maggie.”
Her words crushed his very soul. “No. This can’t be right. Fate wants me to suffer?”
“Yep! But there are many paths forward potentially ending in your
happiness.”
He braced his two arms against the wall next. The air no longer wanted to enter his lungs, but the darkness did. This entire place was saturated with it, and his agony only seemed to amplify the potency. No wonder Maggie’s father had turned evil. But there might still be hope for himself. Maybe. He wanted to fight. “What do you mean?”
“What I mean is I can reunite you with your precious mortal.”
Could she? Cimil was known for her deception. That said, she was the Goddess of the Underworld. Her powers were an enigma, even to the gods.
“How?” he asked.
“Simple.” Cimil gyrated her hips.
Un-fucking-believable. “Are you dancing?”
Still circling her hips and staring off into space, she replied, “Uh-uh. I’ve got a Hula Hoop contest tonight. I’m gonna win this time. I can feeeel it!”
Chaam raised his open hand. “I don’t know what a Hula Hoop is, but you’re not winning shit without your head.”
She stopped her strange little dance and then rolled her eyes. “Fine! I will prevent Margaret from crossing over into the eternal light of the universe where she would be recycled—perhaps into a tree or a bullfrog or a chicken potpie. Or a very naughty clown. One never knows. Then we will find a way to reunite the two of you.”
“Are you telling me she’s… she’s…” A black cloud besieged him, and in that moment, the invisible shackles which had compelled him to protect the mortal world for thousands of years, snapped. Every. Single. Fucking. One of them.
“Maggie is dead?” Chaam sank down. He’d never imagined such emptiness and despair could exist inside him. It was like a cancer fed by his rage. A rage that would never cease until he had her back.
He now understood the true meaning of torment. He now understood Maggie’s father.
“Tell me what to do,” he mumbled.
“How far are you willing to go?” Cimil crouched in front of him. A sinister twinkle gleamed in her eyes.
“I would do anything.”
“Peachy! There are two options. One, you reopen the portal with the tablet—good luck with that, by the way—it’s nearly impossible.”
Accidentally...Evil? Page 6
