I continued down the two-lane road, driving toward the only spot I could think of where Tommaso might be. He’d mentioned that he’d been taken to an underground cavern somewhere near a temple covered in “masks.”
After a quick surf on the Internet, I had learned there was a place called “Kohunlich” that was thought to have been a stop on a Mayan trade route sometime around 200 B.C. then later built into a small city with some pretty dang impressive irrigation canals and temples, one of which was dedicated to the Sun God. One of Cimil’s siblings, perhaps? Anyway, it just so happened that Kohunlich was home to the Temple of the Masks and that there was a cenote, or spring, that ran right underneath it. If the site looked anything like the pictures I’d found of other underground cenotes, there would be caverns there, too.
A cold shiver sliced right through me, despite the warm, muggy day—much too warm for October, in my book. Add to that, I’d only packed some cargo pants and a sweatshirt, I was sweating like crazy.
“Uncle Chuckie…please give me strength.” So strange, right? Uncle Chuckie, my demonic, incubus relative had suddenly become a symbol of beating the odds. But as Cimil had said, he’d protected me. Okay, he’d peed all around my place—weird—but nevertheless, he’d been trying to help.
I kept going down the small highway, past the main road leading to the archeological site, about another kilometer, and then turned down a narrow dirt road that cut through the jungle. It was supposed to lead me to a spot about a quarter mile downhill from the ruins. From there, the guide at the Jeep rental slash self-guided adventure tour place told me I’d find a hiking trail leading to the only cenote he knew of in that area.
“But keep an eye out for jaguars,” he’d said, scratching his long flaming red beard, sounding almost amused by the thought of me getting eaten. “And definitely bring a walking stick.” Of course, he had a giant stack of them for sale for fifty bucks, right next to the bug spray, weird unicorn-themed baseball caps, and trail maps. Self-guided jungle tours, my ass. They really should’ve named their place “You’re on Your Fucking Own, Buddy.”
But girls in a hurry to rescue hot men from certain death didn’t have the luxury of being choosy. There weren’t many four-wheel-drive car rental options in this neck of the woods about forty miles from the border of Belize.
I stopped the Jeep at the end of the bumpy road, the lush green tree canopy so dense that only a smattering of sunlight filtered through to the damp, leaf-covered jungle floor. As I stepped out, there was an unexpected stillness all around me. Not even the wind was blowing.
The hairs on the back of my neck turned to quills. Ohmygod. Why am I doing this?
Clearly, because I had to, but that didn’t make me question my sanity any less.
I pulled out my Maruman Majesty driver from my golf bag. It was a beauty. Heavy, gold plated, and could knock the block off anyone—human or otherwise. Yes, I’d brought my clubs along. I wasn’t about to go in empty-handed, and I didn’t think showing up at the airport with a gun was such a great idea—not that I owned one. I also couldn’t bring just one club, because that would look weird. So I’d brought them all. Hey, maybe if I was lucky, I’d actually get in a few rounds. There were plenty of resorts up and down the Maya Riviera.
Wishful thinking, Char.
I slipped on my backpack containing bottled water, a map, and a few other essentials, and started down the trail. This was it. Somewhere around here had to be caverns, and if I was lucky, they’d be the ones Tommaso had told me about. Would Ass Banana—what a name—be here, too? I didn’t know.
“It’s time to face your monsters, Char,” I muttered to myself just as a giant bug landed on my face. I screamed hysterically, swatting it, and it fell to the ground, hissing.
“Gah! Oh, hell no!” It was a cockroach the size of an iPhone. I could’ve sworn that the thing looked right at me and laughed. “Go away! Shoo!” Just as it skittered under a leaf, I felt something tickling the side of my neck. Staring at me from my shoulder was the world’s biggest spider. Or scorpion. Or both?
“Holy shit!” I flung the thing off me and stumbled back over a rock, falling flat on my ass. Suddenly, the ground beneath me gave way, and I started falling.
~~~
I used to be afraid of the dark. But as I fell toward what promised to be the center of the Earth, I decided that wet, slippery holes collapsing in on themselves as you clawed the muddy walls, hoping for anything to grab onto, were way, way shittier.
Yes, good old darkness now officially rocked.
This did not.
Neither did reaching the end of my downward journey. Because when my body fell through the ceiling of an underground cavern, landing in a cold, dark pond filled with muck and bubbles that smelled like rotten eggs, well…I just about died. Literally. The back of my head smacked on a rock a few feet below the surface, reopening my wound for a second time.
“Gah!” I yelled as my head popped up from the surface, the taste and smell of sewer-scented water sticking to my nostrils and mouth. I gagged and spit, trying to ignore the warm fluid running down my neck from the back of my head. Blood.
Shit. Shit. Fucking shit! Where am I? I spun around and noticed a crack in the ceiling on the other side of the giant, fifty-foot-high cavern. The light beamed in like a knife, slicing through the chill and blackness, but only giving off enough illumination to let me see that particular section. The rest of the place was completely obscured.
Okay. Fuck monsters. And scary mud holes. This place was way worse. Just the thought of what might be lurking beneath me in the black water made me want to wet myself.
Frantic, I swam toward the light, hoping and praying that there was a way out of this hellhole. At the very least, I’d accept a large rock to stand on or anything that would allow me to get out of the water.
Closing in on the patch of light glimmering on the water’s surface, I began to make out a little beach about twenty yards beyond that, barely visible in the darkness.
I swam for it. God, I promise never to whine again about being scared. Just help me get out of this. I’ll donate all of my money, adopt some real children who need a home—not just the bald, ugly chickens or malevolent cats no one wants. And, most of all, I promise to strangle Cimil. I sensed that I was not the first person on this planet to end up in a bad spot because of her.
Finally, I reached the sandy bank and crawled out of the water, panting and spitting and trying not to lose my fucking mind. My hand suddenly felt something warm and firm, round and…toe!
I looked up and saw what had haunted my every waking and sleeping hour for the last seven years: The monster from my dreams stood right in front of me.
“Oh fuck.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The thing dragged me through the gritty mud by the hair as I kicked and screamed, clawing at its hand. Somewhere between the madness, it dawned on me that I was going to die.
Who’s going to take care of my babies? I’d only paid for a week’s stay at Camp Critter. And stupidly, I hadn’t let anyone know where I was going. Certainly not the people from work. Not my two best friends either. (Frankly, I would never risk them coming to look for me anyway.) Aside from that, there really weren’t many other people in my life. I’d regrettably lived in an isolation bubble the last seven years.
Big mistake. “Let me go!” I yelled, despite knowing it would do absolutely no good.
Finally, we emerged from the darkness into the blinding afternoon sunlight, and I was shoved into a small holding cell made of a thatched roof and thick branches. Okay, it was a crappy hut. “Let me out of…”
I caught sight of the creature’s face, and just like in my nightmares, I realized it was a man. He had ropes of long black dreads crusted with brown stuff. His entire body, including his face, was covered with inky soot, and his eyes were pits of garnet red and black. No. He wore no clothes, just a loincloth of sorts that looked like an animal hide. Or…perhaps human skin?
“Oh s
hit,” I squeaked, thankful there was at least a set of branches between us, despite them being part of my cage.
The thing looked at me and smiled, baring its blackened teeth. “You. Stay. There.” His voice sounded like Freddie Krueger’s rusty razor-blade fingers shredding up a rusty bucket.
“Oh-oh-okay.” I nodded my head.
It turned and walked across the small clearing we were in, disappearing into the dense foliage of the jungle.
Once it was out of sight, I let out a breath, but immediately went into hyperventilation mode. My head hurt like a sonofabitch and was still bleeding. I have to get out of here. I had to find Tommaso and plead my case. I jiggled the door, but it wouldn’t open. The creepy part was how there wasn’t anything latching the door to the structure itself.
What the hell? Was it some sort of mind control or evil magic? I didn’t know.
Once again, I pushed with my entire body, but the seemingly flimsy thing felt like steel.
I studied it closely and blinked. Nothing about this cage was real. Not in my world. It was all sticks and branches with nothing binding them together. I’m fucking losing my mind. Or was I?
Gods. Fairies. Vampires. Incubuses—Oops. I meant incubi—and whateverelse-beings. Let’s not forget the unicorns. Those all existed. And Cimil had mentioned something about her having powers that were taken away, which meant such things existed, too.
If you choose to believe Cimil. Okay and, yes, half of me did—the crazy half. So this meant that whatever was keeping me inside this structure wasn’t exactly the sort of thing most rational people would believe in. But I believed in monsters. And now gods. And goddesses and unicorns and demons and…and magical huts.
I sighed at my newly embraced insanity and then looked up at the pristine blue sky, wondering if I could make another leap to save myself if I got the chance. Clearly, I was in the right place. No, not the stupid hut. This had to be where Tommaso had gone. So if I got the chance to see him, could I fix him? Could I get him to see another future? Possibly one with me?
My mind began to replay the brief moments we’d had together, and all of those subtle things that a girl might notice on a first date. The way he made me feel all fluttery when I looked into his eyes. The way he smelled so good that I found myself inhaling deeply, wanting to drink him in. And his lips, I could never have imagined feeling hot only touching a man’s lips. But I had. There were so many small moments, even the way his eyes seemed to drift around my face as if he was taking me in when I spoke. The way he put me at ease and made me feel braver.
I collected those pieces to form a picture, and everything about them told me he was perfect. For me, that was.
“Hello, Charlotte,” said a deep familiar voice.
My head whipped up. Tommaso! I rushed forward and gripped the wooden “bars” on the door of my hut. Ohmygod or gods? “Holy shit. Are you okay?”
Because, Christ Almighty, he sure as hell didn’t look it. His hair, though still short, was matted with crusty red-brown muck. Dried blood? His beautiful body, stripped of any real clothing, was covered with that odiferous black soot, and his eyes were black. Completely black.
“Why have you come here?” he asked, his voice deeper than usual.
Screw the chitchat. Let’s get down to business. “Tommaso, listen to me. You don’t want to do this. You don’t want to be here. You don’t want to be one of them. And I know that I was supposed to be Andrus’s mate—whatever the hell that means—but I don’t want him. Yes, yes, I love his look—what woman can resist leather pants?—but that’s not my heart speaking. My heart wants something that my brain can sign off on. It wants a best friend who’s sexy and strong and who can kick ass when needed. So even though we don’t know each other, I’m asking for the chance to find out if that’s you.” I drew a trembling breath. “Because I think it is. I mean to say—I want you.” And I meant that. I really did, though it was difficult to imagine why at the moment. He really smelled.
His cold gaze narrowed on my face. “We will cut out your heart at sundown.”
What? “What! How can that be your respon…” My voice trailed off as he simply disappeared. Like, as in, disappeared-disappeared. Gone. Poof. “What the…? Tommaso! Come back! You don’t want to do this!”
The eerie silence of the surrounding jungle was the only response I got.
Crap. I dropped my head, resting my forehead on the door. This wasn’t how I was going down. It couldn’t be. And from the position of the sun, I had but a handful of hours left to save Tommaso. Because getting him to wake the hell up would be the only way to save myself.
Ohmygod. Why did I listen to Cimil?
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
As the sun dipped below the tree line, casting an orange hue over the sky, I felt my pulse rate rising steadily and the sweat trickling in a cold stream down my back.
I’d been sitting there for hours in my damp, horrible-smelling shirt and cargo pants, going through every inch of every conversation with Tommaso and Cimil and even Andrus and Sadie, but I didn’t see the silver bullet I needed to get him to wake the hell up. There had to be something I could do to get through to him. There just had to be. But I realized I knew so little about Tommaso. His family had been murdered by the Maaskab. The Maaskab were a scary-as-hell cult of ancient Mayan priests who were really good at…okay, I wasn’t clear on that part—they were good at being scary as hell. They were cruel and ruthless and I had the memories to back that up. They were recently all but exterminated in some end-of-the-world situation that didn’t go their way—thankfully—but this end-of-the-world situation had caused some crazy reaction of sorts where single immortals were changing their moral polarity. The only known cure being having a mate, soul mate, or being in love.
Jesus, can this possibly get any more complicated?
“Hello, Charlotte. I understand I’ll be dining on your heart this evening. While you watch.”
My head snapped up to find the silhouette of a huge—and I mean huge—Maaskab. Eight or more feet of grime-covered horror film material with dreads that reached its waist, decorated with teeth. Oh shit. And thumbs. And double oh-shit! And a full-on severed finger running through the septum of his nose like some god-awful jewelry.
Taking the tribal look a little too far, dontcha think? Be that as it may, the malevolence oozing from his general direction could not be questioned. Even the animals and bugs wouldn’t dare. The explosion of squawking, clicking, and roaring all around us was a testament to their fear of this man.
I gulped. “You must be…” What was his name again? All I remembered was Ass Banana. But calling him an ass probably wouldn’t win me any points so I went with… “You must be Banana.”
He growled in a tone so deep and horrifying that my knees started to give out, and I wasn’t even standing. Okay, I guess calling him “Banana” was a bad choice, too.
“I am Ta’as, the king of the Maaskab. And you should watch your mouth, little human.”
“Or what? You’ll eat my heart and make me watch?” I grumbled. Okay, perhaps my comment was mildly petulant, but in all seriousness, I was dehydrated, had lost some blood from my head injury (and probably had a concussion, too), and I didn’t have very good prospects of living.
“I think I may eat that sharp tongue of yours as well, little girl.”
“Super,” I mumbled. “I don’t suppose there’s anything I could say to make you change your mind?” Purely a rhetorical question, of course.
“Nope.” His dark eyes flickered with a glint of joy.
That was when it really sank in that this was going to happen. Tommaso wasn’t going to rescue me. Nor were the gods—what a bunch of crazy A-holes. And I had no cavalry.
Thank you, Cimil! What a great idea coming alone.
I started to laugh hysterically, pushing my hands to my belly.
Ta’as looked at me curiously. “And what do you find so funny?”
I shook my head from side to side, chuckling. “Yo
u, actually. Okay, and me.”
He crossed his crust-caked arms over his crust-caked chest that I realized was covered with scars, similar to what Tommaso had—speed bumps running straight across. They had to be some sort of Maaskab club membership ID.
“Do tell,” he said.
I slowly got to my feet, unable to stop grinning. I’d lost my marbles. And noodle. I’d found my funny bunnies.
“Well, take your pick. I mean, there’s the part about you being dressed like an evil baby in a shitty diaper. Then there’s the fact that you want to kill me. Why? I can only guess, but the clock is ticking for you, just like it was ticking for Tommaso. It’s fucking hysterical.” It was ironic that he’d soon transform into something resembling Mother Teresa. Not that he’d ever be pure of heart and soul, but he’d sure the hell feel like…what had Cimil said? Oh yes. He’d become the nicest person on the planet. Anyway, that was what I wanted to say, but I couldn’t stop laughing.
“Stop your cryptic insolence this moment!” he barked. “I will not have it.”
Smiling, I jerked back my head. “Oh, but what are you going to do? Knit my cat a scarf in retaliation. Oh! Wait! I know! You’ll recite a poem to my chickens!”
I suddenly wished that his switch would flip right now so I could witness him scrapbooking or rescuing worms from a rainy-day sidewalk. He’d probably be screaming on the inside while unable to resist the urge to do horribly nice things.
The large towering shadow of his body went perfectly still, and the life all around us fell deathly quiet. “Wha-wha-what do you speak of?”
“Wait.” I pointed at him. “You don’t even know what I’m talking about, do you?” Then it hit me hard. What would happen if I convinced this evil bastard that pursuing any paths leading to a soul mate would be impossible? Would his switch flip?
TOMMASO (Immortal Matchmakers, Inc. Book 2) Page 16