Colel

by Pamfiloff, Mimi Jean

  “Cimil?” Tula prodded.

  “I just told you. I instructed Minky to eat your body for safekeeping. She’s chock full o’ immortal goodness, so your body should be fully restored. Ready to rummmble!”

  Minky lied to her? “But Minky said only you knew how to help get back my body.”

  “And you believed her?” Cimil chuckled.

  “Well, you said all that stuff about toast before I died.”

  “Uh, yeah. I was trying to make sure you knew that I would bring you back if anything happened. I can’t help it if Minky bamboozled you. She’s an evil unicorn. That’s what evil unicorns do.” She shrugged.

  Oh fudge. “Can you tell Minky to give it back? And while you’re at it, how about my mate?” Tula crossed her arms.

  Cimil raised one coppery brow. “How now brown cow?”

  “Cimil!” Tula stomped. “My body. Now! My mate. Now! Give ’em back.”

  “Tula, why for arts thou yelling?”

  “Minky took Zac. She made him swear to be hers in exchange for helping us get you out of that drum. Of course, we were thinking you were the only person who knew how to reunite me with my body.”

  “Oh, dear gods. And Zac agreed?” Her turquoise eyes widened.

  “What choice did he have? All right, he had other choices, but Minky kind of had us by the short hairs.”

  Cimil shook her head. “I’m sorry, but if he agreed to be hers, there is nothing I can do.”

  Tula felt her insides twist. If she weren’t a ghost, she’d be vomiting right now. “Please tell me this is just another one of your cruel jokes?”

  “Everyone knows that a promise made to a unicorn is unbreakable. They are irrevocable. Zac knew that.”

  “No. I don’t believe you. You’re lying!”

  Cimil threw her hands in the air. “There are no do-overs with unicorns! No ‘I had my fingers crossed behind my back’ or any of that. An oath given to a unicorn must be obeyed. It will be obeyed. Even if against a person’s will.”

  Tula sucked in a long, dear-Jesus breath. This can’t be happening. Going into this, they had thought her disembodied situation was bad, but this was way worse.

  Dang it. My mother was right. Again! She always said to be grateful, because it could always be worse.

  “So what do I do?” Tula asked.

  “I can get your body back—Minky made a promise that she must keep. But I cannot get Zac returned.”

  “Why would she do this to me? What does she even want with him?”

  Cimil scratched her chin. “Have you ever heard the joke about the unicorn who wanted to become a nun?”

  “No. Why?”

  “She was too horny for anyone’s good.”

  Tula narrowed her eyes. “I severely dislike you right now.”

  “Step in line. No, really, word’s gotten out that I’m freed, so as we speak, a PC mob is approaching to file complaints.” Cimil winked. “Form a line right here and please wait for your number to be called.” The insane, redheaded goddess retreated inside, and for some odd reason, Tula could not follow. A spell of sorts?

  “Cimil! My body!” But Cimil didn’t return.

  Defeated, Tula sank onto the step. “Oh gods, Zac. What are we going to do?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Wrists and ankles shackled with black jade cuffs, Colel slumped against the wall of her glass jail cell, asking herself what she could have done differently. How could this have turned into the happy ever after she’d longed for over an existence that, to date, had lasted a thousand times longer than most people’s lives? Human, god, vampire, that was the funny thing about regret; we all felt it. But we also knew that ninety-nine percent of the time, it amounted to nothing more than useless whining. “If only I’d taken that turn.” “I should have bought that lotto ticket.” “Why did I sleep in and miss the meeting?”

  However, there was also no denying the truth: Bad decisions often led to the best moments of our lives. Ten minutes of reckless passion led to a cherished child who challenged your every belief and forced you to see the beauty in everything. A dinner out with rowdy friends who get arrested for public urination ends in meeting a lawyer who’s the love of your life. Colel had seen it all during her life. Bad choices leading to better ones.

  What was that expression Cimil liked to use? Ah yes. The prettiest flowers grow from shit. You just have to be brave enough to get in close and give ’em a little water. In other words, you had to own it. Each and every shitty mistake.

  Colel sighed. “Then why am I knee-deep in shit and have nothing to show for it?”

  “I’m here, so not sure what you mean,” a deep soothing voice echoed from the other side of the glass.

  “Rys?” Her eyes whipped up to find him standing there in faded jeans, a black button-down shirt, and a black leather jacket. Before his transformation, he was a man to be reckoned with. Now, with his imposing stature—wide shoulders, six-foot-four height and solid biceps—he looked menacingly fierce. She’d wager that he could give any of her seven-foot brothers a run for their money. Not a one had Rys’s confidence.

  “How did you get in here?” She stood and pressed her palms to the glass, wanting to touch him more than she wanted to breathe. “Oh, and you brought chocolates.”

  He held a box in his hands that said Goddess Truffles.

  “Didn’t know what to bring you. It’s my first time having a girlfriend who’s in an immortal prison.”

  She smiled warmly. “Chocolates are wonderful. So are shanks, porn magazines, and cigarettes for trading with Big Foot and the sex faeries, but perhaps on your next visit?”

  He cocked one dark brow. “So, uh, Kinich’s been filling me in on everything. You’re lucky to have a brother like him, by the way.”

  “I know.” She nodded, understanding why the two would get along. Kinich had the same sense of selfless loyalty towards his family. Didn’t matter how badly any of them fucked up, Kinich was ready to forgive. Maybe not forget, but forgive. Rys was forged from the same caliber of man-steel.

  “So did he tell you everything? I mean, why I’m in here?” she asked.

  “Yes. But what I don’t understand is why you failed to mention any of it before turning me into a demilord and risking prison for, say, a few thousand years. Colel, why would you do that?” His voice was soft, but filled with disappointment.

  She shrugged weakly. “Turns out that you and I aren’t so different—into the self-sacrifice thing and all.”

  “Wrong. Your decision went beyond ‘self.’ You sacrificed my happiness, too, and that wasn’t yours to barter with.”

  “I did what I thought was right. And let’s not forget your part in all this with that little test.”

  “You’re right.” Rys dropped his head. “Fuck me, but you’re right.”

  “I would love a little nookie, but I’m afraid the fuck-window is closed,” she pointed to a small window in the glass with a lock on it, “and now you need to listen. You need to understand what happens next so that some good comes from this.”

  “Colel, I—”

  “No!” She slapped her hand against the glass. “You are in my world, Rys, and it’s time for listening. My trial will not be anything like the human version of justice. There will be no Judge Judys, no Springers, or Dr. Phils. The jury is made up of my peers, but their hearts and minds aren’t ruled by laws. They are fickle and governed by emotions, fear, and sometimes hockey.”

  “Hockey?”

  “It’s a well-known fact that the gods give zero pucks about justice when the Stanley Cup is up for grabs. That goes double for soccer and the World Cup. Don’t even hope for a godly gesture of mercy at such times.”

  “Okay…?”

  “Rys, in a few hours, I will be tried for the crime of giving you the gods’ light without permission. Many things will be said, but no matter the outcome, you need to know I regret nothing. Had you returned to Darla or had you ended up right here with me, I would have made the same
choice, and all I ask is that you don’t forget that.”

  “But Kinich explained the rules. As long as you prove I’m your mate, no law has been violated.”

  “Call it goddess intuition, if you like, but something feels off.” Mostly because she was in prison and her brethren might be insane, but they weren’t stupid. They already knew she felt a special connection with Rys, and would have given her the benefit of the doubt. For some reason, they hadn’t.

  Rys pressed his large hand against the glass. “Have faith, Colel. It’s going to work out fine.”

  “I’ll try.” She looked down at her bare feet, wanting this moment to last as long as possible. Who knew when she’d see Rys again? He had people to take care of back home, so it wasn’t as if he’d be living in the prison with her if things went poorly today.

  “Hey, did I ever tell you how I got my name?” Rys asked.

  “No.”

  “My mother is a flower enthusiast, obviously. It’s why she made my father move to Crested Butte, for the amazing spring bloom. But her favorite flowers have always been orchids. She says they are the ultimate contradiction in nature—sensitive to too much sunlight, humidity, and water. If one little thing is off, they wither. Yet there are thousands of different types, all of them so unique you’d hardly know they were the same species. But that’s their secret weapon. They are survivors. Adaptors. Yet they are loyal to their purpose: to, above all, be extraordinary.”

  “That’s a lovely story.” She smiled softly. “I suppose I am the orchid in this metaphor?”

  “No. I am. Maybe we both are. I don’t know. The point I wanted to make is that you need to have faith.”

  “Hmmm…I think I missed that part of the story.”

  “I’m getting to that. When I was born, she and my father wanted to name me after my grandfather, Marcus, but then I got sick almost right away. Some lung infection. She said that there was a moment when she didn’t think I was going to make it. I was so small and fragile, all covered in tubes inside one of those incubators. Like my own little hothouse. That’s when she decided, right then and there, to name me after her favorite orchid: Ophrys apifera.”

  Colel’s eyes jarred open. “No. You’re joking.”

  “Ask her yourself once you get out of here.”

  Colel’s eyes filled with big juicy tears. “Ophrys apifera is my favorite, too.” It was a magnificently colored, sexy flower—with bright purple, yellows, and browns—capable of floral mimicry that rivaled the best: the monkey, flying egret, the ballerina, and tiger-face orchids, just to name a few. Ah, but Ophrys apifera…

  “The bee orchid.” She smiled.

  “Yes. And if that isn’t proof enough that you and I were meant for one another and a reason to have faith, then I don’t know what is.”

  Dear gods, I love you, she thought. But it was too early to say such words. And this was not the right moment. “I will have faith. Just as you prescribe.”

  Rys smiled proudly. “That’s my goddess. Now chin up. We’ll be together before this day is done.”

  Yes. Yes. “We will.” Nothing could possibly go wrong now.

  “Okay. Now I’m nervous.” Colel watched the packed courtroom, located in their Sedona, Arizona, compound, come to order. Much of the property was underground—the prison, shopping mall, and much of the soldiers’ housing. Just last month, they’d voted to add a day spa, so at the very worst, she’d have pretty toes while she served her sentence.

  Colel squirmed on the wooden bench toward the front of the room facing the council’s table. She’d never been on this side of the law, and it felt horrible. No. No regrets. No regrets.

  Rys entered the room, and she immediately felt the strength of his comforting presence.

  She turned her body so he could witness her in all her defiant glory. She never wanted him to doubt how strongly she felt about her decision. She’d done right by him, and it made her prouder than words could speak.

  Rys locked eyes with her and offered a supportive nod. His posture, however, was another story. Every muscle he owned flexed with tension beneath his dark shirt and jeans. His jaw was tight and his back rigid.

  She hated to admit it, but the protective version of him, including the mood-ring eyes, was sexy as hell.

  She sighed with lust, as did the handful of other females in the room—a few sex faeries, a vampire, and a half dozen Uchben women. The rest were men who tried to pretend that Rys didn’t threaten their masculinity.

  “All rise.” Wearing a red blouse and black slacks, Penelope pounded her gavel on the table at the front of the room while Colel’s brethren filed in. Save Zac and Cimil, everyone had showed.

  Why aren’t they looking at me? Not even Kinich is making eye contact. Colel’s hands began to shake. Something was definitely wrong.

  Penelope read the charges, none of which were a surprise, and the packed courtroom fell into a hush. “How plead you, Colel?”

  “Innocent. Rys is my mate. Under our laws, giving him the light of the gods is not a violation. Yes, yes. I understand that, at the time, I wasn’t certain. But I am now. And after reading the law, intent isn’t mentioned. It merely states that one cannot give immortality unless that being is the mate of a god or approved by the House of Gods.”

  Penelope looked down at her gavel and sighed. “Colel, you know how highly I think of you. You, your bees, and your crazy hat. I think of you as my sister from another quantum-mister. We may not have been born from the same parents, but I love you as if we were.”

  There was a “but” coming. She knew it. “I love you, too…?”

  Penelope went on, “But what pains me more than being here right now deciding your fate is the fact that you don’t trust me, that you don’t believe in all of us enough to tell the truth. It’s just…” Penelope shook her head. “Unforgivable.”

  “What are you talking about?” Colel stood.

  “The jig is up, Bees; we know this man is not your mate,” Votan blurted out.

  Huh? “But he is. I feel it in my heart.” Colel pointed to the side of the room where Rys stood between two soldiers whose heights only reached his shoulders. “He is the one chosen for me by the Universe.”

  “Can you explain why Brutus, our most trusted and respected Uchben captain, has sworn that you are his mate and begged for mercy on your behalf?” Penelope asked.

  Colel felt the life sucked from her lungs. She swiveled her head in Brutus’s direction at the back of the room, where he sat, dressed in black fatigues.

  “Brutus?” Colel whispered. “Why would you lie?”

  “He’s not lying.” Votan stood. “I saw proof with my own eyes. While you were out, cavorting with this weak, unworthy male, I witnessed Brutus playing Pictionary with your bees.”

  What the fuck is happening?

  “Yes, he’s a great bee-sitter, but Brutus is not my mate,” she protested. “I have no feelings for him. I mean, beyond my extreme respect and feelings of friendship. But other than that, my heart, all that I am, belongs to him.” She pointed to Rys again.

  “Then try explaining how in the history of our kind, no one has been able to tame your hive. Yet, Brutus snaps his fingers and they do his bidding.”

  Colel looked at the chair beside Brutus and suddenly noticed a form in the shape of a man. Arms crossed. Staring with judgment. Her bees.

  Traitors!

  “I can do that.” Rys snapped his fingers, and the bees bolted to his side. “Make a rose. The lady likes roses.” Her bees obeyed.

  Whatthewhat is happening right now? She looked at him with a dropped jaw and raised brow.

  Rys shrugged. “You asked me to look after them, so I did. We also had a little talk.” He narrowed his eyes in the bees’ general direction. “They’ve seen the error of their ways and have promised to beehave or else.” He cleared his throat. “And I may have given them a treat or two to win them over.”

  The hive swirled into a playful circle.

  Rys smiled prou
dly at them. “That’s right. Who loves you?”

  “He might be on their good side, but that doesn’t make him Colel’s mate,” Brutus argued.

  Rys’s smile dropped, and he snarled in Brutus’s general direction. “Get anywhere near my woman, I will kill you.”

  “Make a middle finger,” Brutus commanded. The bees formed a giant hand with one finger sticking up.

  “Make a knife,” Rys snarled and stepped toward Brutus.

  Kinich stood. “No one is killing anyone. I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation for all of this. Not that I have one,” he muttered and rubbed the back of his neck. “If only Cimil were here.”

  The doors at the back of the room flew open. “You rang?” Cimil marched into the room and everyone shrieked.

  “Oh, shut your stink holes.” She pranced to the front, carrying a big red bucket. “What? Hasn’t anyone ever seen a prego goddess before?”

  Cimil looked like she had a watermelon under her watermelon-colored tent dress, but they’d all seen her just a few short weeks ago with a flat stomach.

  How’s it possible?

  “What are you carrying? An army?” Colel asked.

  Cimil smiled slyly. “I’ll never tell.”

  “Cimil! What are you doing here?” Votan barked, as shocked as everyone else to see her free again. No one had heard a thing from Zac.

  “Well,” Cimil said, “clearly I’ve come to deliver my bucket o’ curvy balls. Who wants to catch?” She plucked a baseball from the bucket.

  “Cimil!” Votan yelled.

  “Fine, fine. I am here to warn everyone. The norms are shifting once again.” She threw down the bucket, sending baseballs bouncing all over the cement floor. “The Universe has declared war on us. Gone are the days of one mate for each, one war per decade, and slow pitches. There are now more choices, more mistakes to make, and it’s fastball time, baby! So get ready.”

  “Cimil,” Penelope pounded her gavel at the front of the room, “care to explain your words for everyone here who doesn’t speak bat-shit crazy?” Penelope’s phone chirped.

  “You should get that, sister.” Cimil snickered.