My pasted smiled became a real one. She was awake and sitting up in bed. “Mom? Oh my God! Look at you,” I said.
Her long, golden hair was elaborately braided and her hazel eyes were bright and lively.
“Penelope! Baby!” She held out her arms for a hug. I rushed to her side and gripped her tightly. It felt so good to hold her, to see her awake again, that I wanted to cry. But I decided not to ruin the moment with any blubbering.
“You look fantastic,” I said.
“I feel exceptionally great. Must be the company.” She glanced at Viktor, who sat in his usual place next to the bed.
He also looked different. Maybe because he wore a cream-colored turtleneck, brown suede boots, and soft, faded jeans instead of his customary black getup.
Wow. He cleans up nicely. I’d never really gotten a good look at the man before, but with his high cheekbones and strong chin, he reminded me of that actor who’d played Thor—Chris something-or-other. In fact, Viktor could’ve been his very large older brother. Pretty dang gorgeous. But what was going on with that hair?
“Matching braids?” I asked.
Viktor, a well-built man I often heard others refer to as the Viking tank—because he really used to be Viking—squirmed in his chair. “I—uh…wanted to show her the traditional braid from my village.”
Viktor braided her hair?
“I didn’t know they had metro Viking vampires.” Of course, I didn’t know there were gods, vampire gods, offspring of gods, evil priests, and leprechauns, either. Oh. And add angels.
“Penelope, how rude,” my mother said.
Viktor chuckled and looked at my mother. “She is correct, Julie. I am metro and proud. I much prefer fashion and fine fabrics to weapons and killing—it gets old after a thousand years. My new favorite pastime is shopping. I will take you next week now that you are completely healed. We can stay at my Italian villa near—”
“Whoa! Whoa! You’re healed? And you two are planning a vacation together? You’re going to leave? What’s going on?”
My mother looked at Viktor. “Can we have a minute alone? I need to talk to my daughter.”
He bowed his head and stood. “I won’t be far if you need me.” I could tell he was about to sift, but then he realized he couldn’t. “Damn, this is annoying,” he grumbled as he walked from the room.
“This is going to take a lot of explaining, so why don’t you sit, honey,” she pointed to Viktor’s chair.
“You mean the Viktor part, the healing part, or the angel part?” I asked and took the seat.
Her face froze. “All three.”
Hell. I really wasn’t ready for this. “So it’s true? You’re not human?”
She wrung her hands and then placed them neatly in her lap. “I am human. I mean—I was. But I wasn’t always.”
Oh great. It was going to be another of those stories. The ones that left my head feeling like I’d taken it for a spin on a lazy Susan.
“Go on.”
“First, I must tell you it is forbidden to talk about my past life—or where I came from.” Her eyes flashed toward the ceiling. “They will punish me if I do. So you must be careful, Penelope. You must keep what you already know a secret.”
Oh great! More crap to worry about. Just put it right on top of this other giant pile over here. And dammit! I couldn’t believe there was a gag order on her. I had so many questions.
Find the silver lining, Pen. Your mother is alive and healed.
“My lips are sealed,” I said.
My mother smiled and began telling me how twenty-six years ago, while she was “on duty” she’d met a man and fallen in love. At first, she tried convincing herself that her feelings weren’t real, but the more she resisted the stronger her feelings became.
“So, I had to choose. Him or my ‘job’; they don’t allow both.”
“You chose him, obviously.”
“Yes,” she replied. “And we were very happy, Penelope. Your father was…magnificent. His laughter, his thirst for life, he made me feel so alive.”
“Then why did he leave?” I wondered.
Her eyes dropped. “He died the day I found out I was pregnant.”
I wanted to gasp, but there were no gasps left inside my body. All gasped out. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want your life to be marked with such a tragedy. He was murdered—killed by a very evil man who hunts people like me.”
And this was where the story got weirder. To protect me, my mother ran. And she kept running for the next ten years, finally settling us in New York. “I thought we were safe. Or maybe he’d forgotten about me, but I was wrong. One year ago, he found us.”
“What did he want?”
“What he always wanted: my blood. He believes it has powers—ones he can use to create an unstoppable army. I explained again and again that I was completely human, but he spent the next year drinking from me, anyway. I think he just enjoyed making me suffer.”
I was horrified. “A vampire?”
“Yes. And the most evil vampire of them all.”
Holy crap. The entire time I thought she’d been sick when really, some psycho vampire made her his personal blood bank. And to boot, it had been the vampire who killed my father. She must have gone through hell. “I’m so sorry, Mom.”
“He said if I did not give him what he wanted, if I tried to run, he’d come after you. I had no idea what to do until the goddess Cimil came to me with her plan to get you somewhere safe—with her brother—and make it look like I’d gone to a clinic so you wouldn’t worry.”
Okay. Now that was just messed up. “Mom, you made a deal with Cimil? You?”
She reached for my hand. “I’m so sorry for deceiving you. But Cimil said it had to be this way. Of course, everything went wrong. Probably because she’s bat-shit crazy.”
“You have no idea,” I responded.
“I’m so sorry, honey. Sorry for all the lies. But the truth wasn’t an option. Can you ever forgive me?” Guilt filled her big, hazel eyes. I wanted to be angry, but somehow couldn’t. Not when I knew she’d done what she thought was best for me and acted out of love.
“Kinich left me and I’m pregnant—thanks to Cimil, by the way,” I bitterly confessed.
“I know. Viktor told me everything. But have faith, honey. Have faith that everything will work out as it should.”
I wasn’t ready to do that.
“Let’s not talk about it now,” I suddenly blurted out. “I want my year to end on a happy note. Who is this bastard that’s hunting you?” Revenge qualified for happy, didn’t it? Sure felt like it. And I was definitely going to look him up, because now…now I knew “people.” Oh yeah, a lot of really fucking deadly people.
“Philippe—he is what they call an Ancient One. But that’s not important: If he finds me again, he won’t touch me. I’ve made sure of it.”
Of course. She had one of the toughest vampires roaming the planet obsessed with saving her, and now he was apparently her personal guard dog. “Viktor—he told Kinich that he dreamed about saving you for five hundred years. Do you know why?”
She nodded. “He believes he was destined to love me. That I am his soul mate.”
“So he loves you?”
“Yes,” she replied. “Very much.”
“And you? Do you love him back?” How very strange it would be if Viktor became my stepdad.
She ran her fragile, pale finger over her heart-shaped lips, giving the question some thought. “I can’t remember what happened when we were imprisoned, but I know I love him, too.”
Well, there you go. Munsters, watch out! We’ve got a vampire dad, fallen-angel mom, and pregnant sun goddess daughter. We were just missing someone with fur and perhaps a reanimated human or two to complete our cast of zany characters.
But in all seriousness, after everything that happened, this was the one part that made me happy. She’d found love.
She sighed. “Philippe will ne
ver bite me again.”
“No. I’m sure Viktor would never allow it.”
“Likely, not,” she said. “But even so, Viktor turned me last night. Philippe won’t want to drink me, anyway.”
Wha-wha-what!? “Vampire? You’re a vampire?”
“Surprise?” she said with an awkward smile.
“Okeydokey.”
Add fallen angel turned vampire to the species list.
CHAPTER 41
After a very long drive to clear my head, I pulled Kinich’s jeep into the garage, trying to make as little noise as possible.
I looked at my watch.
Eleven forty-five. Almost midnight.
I’d successfully avoided Zac the entire evening, and wanted to keep it that way. I’d had just about enough drama for the day and was seriously looking forward to celebrating New Year’s by calling Anne and Jess who were likely about to pass out. Not only were they two hours ahead, but they generally started celebrating the New Year’s in November.
Heading for my room, I tiptoed through the living room.
The front door abruptly flew open and in sauntered a tall man dressed in a tailored black suit, his jet-black hair pulled into a ponytail. His black eyes resembled voids of light against his pale skin.
Oh gods. Please. No more! No more drama for today!
I immediately readied to pummel him with a nice ball of fire, but then noticed he held an unconscious man, wrapped in a cloak, in his arms.
“Who the hell are you?” I spoke with a sigh. More drama wasn’t what I wanted, but I knew a heaping helping was coming my way.
Cimil, wearing pink pj’s with yellow duckies, appeared at my side, glaring with an unspoken fury. “That piece of shit is Narmer.”
The sinister man smiled, displaying two sharp incisors. “Oh, now do not forget, my dear Cimil, you made me change my name to Roberto. Right after you had me tattoo your portrait on my back and move into your Spanish abode to be your love slave.”
“I was going through a phase! You can’t hold that against me!”
His eyes narrowed. “I vowed to return the favor—to repay you for the humiliation I endured, my sweet, darling Cimil.” He strolled to the center of the room, where we stood, behaving like he owned the place.
“That video is awesome!” she exclaimed. “It’s a triple-X classic! You’re just mad because I stole the show with my hot-pink chicken suit!”
“Ha! Don’t you wish!” he chuckled with sadistic arrogance.
Cimil scowled. “Whatever! So what the hell do you want?”
He blew her a kiss. “I told you, Cimil: revenge. Eye for an eye. Tat for a tat.”
“Roberto, I wasn’t aware that you’d made taking hallucinogens into a competitive sport. How very unvampy of you.”
He made a little pout with his lower lip. “Very well, if you do not wish to play, then I will let your brother die.”
Brother? Die?
Roberto tossed the man to the floor like a lifeless sack of potatoes.
My eyes filled with horror as I realized who it was. “Kinich! Oh my God!”
I scrambled to the immobile bundle and rolled it over. Kinich was pale and emaciated. I put my ear to his mouth. “He’s not breathing!”
Emma appeared in the room and rushed to my side. “What the fuck does he want?” she screamed at Cimil.
Apparently everyone knew Roberto—uhhh, Narmer—but me.
“You dirty son of a vampire bitch!” Cimil barked.
Roberto tisked. “Language, my dear. Language. There are children present.” His gaze flickered toward me and then Emma.
“Language?” Cimil cackled. “I’ve got language—”
Roberto raised his palm to silence her. “Cease with the posturing, my little dove. The clock is ticking. So what will it be?”
She growled, looked down at Kinich and then back at Narmer.
“I’ll get you for this. And if I don’t, my clowns will. And if not them, then my unicorn.”
He laughed. “Oh, my little turnip, how I love you so. I would expect nothing less.”
“Quit your yapping and save my brother,” she ordered.
He dipped his head. “Very well.
I wanted to kick that smug smile right off his pasty face.
He floated over and motioned for me to move.
Protectively, I hovered over Kinich’s body. “What’s he going to do?” I looked at Cimil.
“He’s going to make Kinich a vampire,” Cimil explained, all too casually for my taste.
“What? No! I won’t let you touch him!” I didn’t want Kinich to die—gods no—but the one and only thing he’d ever wanted was to be mortal. And after seventy thousand years, he finally had it.
Roberto made a theatrical bow. “As you wish. But it is Kinich who came to me and struck the bargain.”
“Bargain?” I asked.
“Yes, he and I have been in negotiations for over a month. I was to kill my brother Philippe and he would deliver Cimil. Kinich came to me last week to finalize the deal. He offered his new mortal life as insurance.”
My mind scrambled. “Kinich had you kill your own brother? He let you do this to him? But why?”
Cimil gazed upon Kinich’s limp body with affection. “Very clever, my dear brother. We shall engrave your portrait in the Summit Room, right next to Kathy Griffin.”
“I’m not following,” I said.
“Philippe, who we’d been hunting for eons, was the maker of the Obscuros,” Cimil explained. “Roberto killed him, thereby snuffing out his bloodline, including any Maaskab who’d been turned.”
Philippe? The Philippe? My mother’s tormentor was the maker of the Obscuros? Son of a bitch was lucky to be dead, because what I wanted to do was much, much worse.
And Kinich gave his life to have him killed, to have all of the Obscuros killed.
Holy crap. The sad irony started to sink in.
Why hadn’t Kinich told anyone? Why keep it a secret?
Because…you would have stopped him.
Christ! I would have. And since he had no powers, there would have been nothing he could do to fight me, either. But if he had stayed, we would have lost the battle. We would have lost everything. My mother included.
Now, more than ever, I felt low and unworthy of any affection Kinich held for me. Because he had put me first. He’d put us all first. I had just been too blinded by my own selfish desires to see it. I should have trusted him.
I moved out of the way. “Do it. Turn him.”
Roberto leaned over Kinich and made a small gash across his wrist before placing the dripping wound to Kinich mouth.
“There. It is done,” he said.
I saw no movement. “Are you sure?”
“He will awaken tomorrow evening. Have some blood handy; he will be hungry.” Roberto strolled casually over to Cimil and took her by the hand. “Come now. I wish to claim my prize immediately.”
“Really, Roberto. You’re such a horn-dog. Can’t we do this later?”
“Wait!” Emma said. “Did you lock the portals?”
With a sinister smile, Roberto replied, “And what will you give me if I answer your question?”
Cimil slapped his cheek. “Oh quit it! You’ve won. I’m marrying you—isn’t that enough?”
“Babies, too?” he asked.
Oh hell, no! If there is any justice in this universe, Cimil will not be allowed to spawn. Especially with this evil bastard.
“Whatever. Just leave the girl alone.” Cimil looked directly at me and winked. “Just remember, it ain’t over until the cruise ship returns to port and you hear the theme song.”
Andddd…thank you for those awesome words of wisdom, Cimil.
“Let’s go, leech.” She took Roberto’s hand and disappeared out the front door.
I dropped to my knees and placed my ear to Kinich’s chest. There was no heartbeat, no breath, nothing. I looked up at Emma. “Now what?”
“Get some blood and pray.”
TO BE CONTINUED…
***
A Very Important Public Service Announcement From Guy, God of Death and War
Humans,
I must inform you of some very troubling news: The apocalypse is indeed coming. While most of the gods were off doing our part for humanity, my sister Cimil, true to her useless and reproachable nature, decided that now—yes, now!—would be an excellent time to catch up on her favorite syndicated sitcom from the early 80s.
As a result, she neglected her duties—monitoring the future—thereby giving the Maaskab the opportunity to execute the next steps of their sinister plan. This plan included taking me and Niccolo as their prisoners.
I write you from a very dark and lonely place, hoping that my message may find its way to you. Please tell Emma I am sorry for betraying her. What I did to her grandmother was unforgivable. I am now paying the price.
May the universe take pity on my soul.
GUY
(aka, Votan, God of Death and War)
***
Rebuttal from Cimil, Goddess Delight of the Underworld
Dearest People Pets,
Please disregard my brother’s whiny theatrics. Yes, it is true that I neglected my duties and, because of this, we are all going to cease to exist. But I ask you, what is the purpose of living if one cannot drop everything on a whim to enjoy the fruits of the late 70s and early 80s? Bad perms, Chia Pets, leg warmers, Duran Duran. And surely you must understand the importance of disco dancing and tacky sitcoms with men named Isaac bearing pearly white smiles? Ah yes, Love Boat. Is there anything sweeter than something unexpected and new?
Anyhooo, I wouldn’t hit the panic button yet. Suuure, the Maaskab are going to kick our asses, but these things have a way of working themselves out.
Maybe.
Okay…maybe not.
All right! All right. We’re completely hosed. Go live your final days doing the things you’ve only dreamed of: Kick the neighbor’s cat (the one that wakes you at 2:00 a.m.), write a romance novel—make it a funny one, though—buy that really great pair of leather pants you’ve always wanted, or eat that entire box of Twinkies. Oh yes, live the dream! The clock is ticking.
Sun God Seeks…Surrogate? Page 28