What the…? I guess he’s not going to miss the damned cat. He’s got backups all ready to go!
As each message played, Ixtab felt the rage build and the fantasy of him being something more than just a Francisco look-alike slip further and further away until it died with a gruesome twitch right then and there. This Antonio Acero was a womanizer, a man whore, and clearly inconsiderate of anyone’s feelings. The messages, which became more and more desperate as the women concluded Antonio would not be calling them back, were a testament to his lack of respect for them or their feelings.
Ixtab slowly picked herself up, still crying. “Well, I guess you got what you came for. This is not Francisco, and now you have proof.” The man she once knew was the most caring, compassionate being on the planet. He’d never use women in such a way.
Now she could truly put the past behind her. Francisco was gone. And she needed to forgive herself. You’ve just taken the first step.
Then why was she so damned angry? Shouldn’t she feel liberated?
Maybe because someone needed to pay this Antonio man a visit and let him know that treating women like single-serve coffee cups wasn’t okay.
Ixtab smiled. “I so love it when I get to be someone.”
* * *
“But Mr. Acero,” the nurse pleaded, “he’s your brother. Why don’t you want to see—”
“Coño! I said no. And if you haven’t noticed, I am unable to see anything or anyone. My goddamned life is over.” Why was everyone trying to convince him that everything would be all right?Caray. Nothing would be all right. Not one goddamned thing because he blew it.
The nurse sighed. “You and I both know you hit your head. The doctor thinks it could be reversible.”
Right. He knew how this game was played. They’d fill him full of hope only to deliver the bad news later. “I don’t give a shit what the doctor says. I do not want to see anyone. And I do not want to eat; I’m not hungry. Just get the fuck out! Let me die!”
Antonio knew his brother remained camped outside in the waiting area, but he couldn’t bear to face him. Not after this. Without sight, his work would have to stop and there would be no hope in changing their fates. And, as if to torment him further, the nightmares only worsened. Day and night, those turquoise eyes clawed at the inner sanctum of his mind, the mysterious woman frantically pleading for salvation. A salvation he would never deliver. Not to her. Not to anyone.
“You’re not dying, Mr. Acero—”
“Puta madre. Leave me the hell alone!”
The nurse sighed. “I’ll send the counselor. Maybe she can talk some sense into you.”
“I don’t need a pinche headshrink!” he screamed at the disappearing footsteps. “And don’t come back!”
“Hi there,” said a soft female voice.
“Who the hell are you?”
“Has anyone ever told you it’s not nice to talk to people like that? I suppose to someone like you, it doesn’t matter.”
Though she spoke sharply with an unrecognizable accent, her voice was actually quite lovely.
Mierda. Probably beautiful, too. The kind of woman who wouldn’t dare give him the time of day now unless it was to help him cross the goddamned street.
“You people don’t give up,” he grumbled. “I said I don’t want a psychiatrist.”
A long, awkward moment passed with complete and utter silence. A breath, sweet and gentle, touched his lips, causing him to shrink back and slam his head against the headboard. “Ow. For fuck sake! What are you doing?”
Had she tried to kiss him?
Silence.
“Hello?” he said.
Silence.
“I know you’re there. This isn’t funny.” He felt her presence vibrate through the room.
A loud sigh gave away her location.
“Who the hell are you?” he asked.
“Do Spaniards always swear so much? Tsk, tsk. So ungentlemanly. As for me? You could say I’m a friend. And by friend, I mean someone who finds your existence repulsive but chooses to take pity on you regardless. You’re kind of like a little bug with a broken leg that gets put outside to live another day instead of being squashed on the spot.”
“Is this some idiotic American reverse psychology bull crap? You tell crippled people they’re disgusting? Well, guess what? I agree with you. I’m useless!”
“What an idiot,” the woman growled. “By the way, there’s nothing wrong with the package—you still have your gorgeous face. And that body. Hell, you’re a crime against female nature and should be shot on the spot for being so beautiful. Sadly, I can’t say the same for what’s on the inside. In fact, you’re disgusting.”
“What the…?”
“Don’t act surprised,” she said. “I know how you use women, then throw them away. And I’m here to warn you: if you continue your cheap man-whoring ways, I will hunt you down and pluck out your gonads. Got it?”
Man whore? Gonads? He had no clue how to respond.
“Let’s get on with the show, shall we, Romeo?” she said.
Who was this woman? She sounded crazier than he did. “And what show would that be?” he asked.
“Does that pathetic brain of yours still work? Because I heard you’re supposed to be smart. You don’t sound so smart to me.”
Santa Maria. She was ruthless. No way was she a doctor or psychologist; she was pinche loca. “Who the hell are you?”
“Shut up before I change my mind. Teen uk’al k’iinam. Teen uk’al yah.” A pair of hands hit his chest, jolting him like a defibrillator.
His back painfully arched and each muscle in his body went rigid with the blistering heat. The air filled with the scent of fresh-cut daisies and fragrant vanilla, and the heaviness lifted from his chest. It was as though a dark cloud had been sieved from his soul. Clean air entered his lungs, giving him quarter to breathe again. Memories, happy ones, flooded his heart—playing hide-and-seek with his brother in the Spanish vineyards during summer, scuba diving in the Mediterranean, the paella at his favorite little restaurant in the town near his home in Penedès.
“What did you do?” he whispered into the abyss.
“I saved your sorry ass, but not so you can continue your dude-slutting. Got it? You will take this chance I’ve given you to do bigger and better things—one of which will be going back to work on that tablet.”
“How do you know about the tablet?” It was a secret.
“I’m a spy for the government. We know everything,” she said as though she was overwhelmed by boredom.
“Here.” She shoved a card in his hand. “Once you’re home, call this number. They’ll send you a tutor and an assistant. And yes, Einstein, the number is written in braille. I’m also having the landlord install a braille phone and set up your computer. The tutor will come to reteach you to read. And before you thank me, you should know that I accidentally killed your cat. I’m really sorry but it…”
Antonio’s mind whirled as the woman apologized profusely for murdering his cat—something about it getting loose and jumping out a window?—and then proceeded to hurl endless, demeaning insults, peppered with every swear word in the English language along with a few choice words in Spanish, too. She was so…damned horrible and bitter! The sourest, most cantankerous female he’d ever met. A thousand sailors could not compete with her sharp edges and unfiltered mouth. And yet, she was strangely alluring.
“So”—she took a breath—“you got it? Comprende, Señor Acero?”
“Uh… yes?”
“Good. My work here is done. Have a happy life, assho—I mean, Antonio.”
“Wait! You’re leaving?” He sat up in bed.
“Sorry. Gotta get back to saving lives and all. And by the way, Tony, we’d all appreciate it if you’d get back to work on the tablet before the world blows up.”
“You’re going to use it to fight terrorists?” he asked.
“Sorry, I can’t divulge that information. It’s a matter of national s
ecurity. See ya.”
* * *
The moment Ixtab left the room and fell out of earshot, she found the nearest wall and leaned in to prevent herself from having a good, old-fashioned heart attack. She didn’t know what came over her, but the moment she saw that man, she’d lost it. Completely lost it. Had it something to do with the fact that as soon as she set eyes on him, every painful memory of Francisco came crashing down? Or had it more to do with her knowing he slept with all those women?
Ixtab clawed at the black lace fabric over her heart, trying to catch her breath. Dammit, the man even frowned like Francisco and had done that little scrunching thing with his beautiful sable eyebrows when he’d felt confused.
Ixtab sank with her back against the wall, panting and trembling. No. This man wasn’t Francisco, she knew that now, but he was her punishment—karma for all her sins. And she hated him for it.
Why, oh, gods, why?
Worse of all, seeing the man callously revived those dormant feelings she’d thought dead. Useless feelings. Gritty, raw, needy feelings.
Ixtab’s overloaded mind replayed taunting images of Antonio. Yes, that man was pure sex. Not that Ixtab had ever had sex. Or ever would. Even with black jade—a fairly new discovery that blunted a deity’s energy and allowed him or her intimacy with humans—at her disposal, that sort of physical contact was simply not in the cards. Not for her, anyway. The dark energy channeled through her touch was simply too potent. Didn’t stop her from wanting, though. This man, with his deep olive skin and strong lips, was built like a champion stallion. Had he known his robe was open at the bottom?
Ixtab sighed.
With such an enormous distraction, how had she even performed the cleansing ritual and managed to keep her cells polarized in the right direction?
“Are you all right, ma’am?” A young nurse reached for Ixtab to aid her, but Ixtab scrambled away and then sprang to her feet.
“Don’t touch me. I’m fine.” She scurried down the hall into the stairwell. She needed to get the hell out of there and off-load quickly. Antonio’s darkness and self-loathing swirled in her head. What had the man done to hate himself so profusely? Not even she disliked herself that much, and she’d done some pretty outrageously heinous things worthy of hatred—on accident, of course. Always on accident.
Gods, I can’t think straight. She needed to shed this physicist’s energy fast. It felt like it had wrapped itself around her heart in a stranglehold. She’d never experienced such an alarmingly intense sensation.
Ixtab bolted outside to the pedestrian-filled street, careful to steer clear of any humans, and headed for the subway. There was always someone worthy of a little death on the subway.
Yes, all she needed was to cleanse and everything would be fine. Wouldn’t it?
Chapter Siete
Five deserving victims later, Ixtab returned to Helena and Niccolo’s building. It was quite a nice place actually. The communal areas, including the lobby, were decorated with modern furniture, mostly reds and whites, with a few richly upholstered, overstuffed chairs and velvety pillows. Kind of an Alice in Wonderland meets Target look. Of course, Helena was bunkered down with her man-nanny and daughter at Kinich’s, so she’d offered up the unoccupied penthouse, which Niccolo had decorated in classic vampire chic (top-of-the-line, spare-no-expense, modern everything).
But first, a stop. Ixtab got off the elevator on the nineteenth floor and knocked on the first door. Ironically, the physicist’s apartment was only one door down. What would Dr. Acero think if he knew his neighbor was a vampire?
“Go the fuck away!”
A very cranky vampire. Ixtab rolled her eyes and pushed open the door. “Sure. I’d love to come in.”
Though dusk had already made its appearance, Kinich’s blinds remained drawn and he sat in the darkest corner of the living room, staring at a wall.
It pained her to see her favorite brother like this. He truly had been dealt a nasty hand.
“Hi. I’m looking for Kinich. He’s about, yeah, so tall. Master of all things sunny. Thinks he’s king of the Universe. Recently turned undead. Have you seen him?”
Kinich didn’t budge.
“Okay. I’m not getting the funny bone award, but cut me some slack; I’m the Goddess of Suicide.” She reached into her bag and popped an orange Tic Tac into her mouth. She still tasted that damned physicist on her tongue. She’d have to cleanse again later and see if she could dispel the lingering residue.
“Go the fuck away,” Kinich grumbled.
Ixtab flipped on the lights and cringed. This is seriously depressing. Black-and-white prints of necks hung on gray walls, and most of the furniture was black.
She took a seat on the black leather couch and continued to inspect the room. Yes, clearly Helena had furnished the apartment expecting the usual vampire tenant. She’d bet her favorite red flip-flops that the bedroom had a four-post bed with black bed curtains and red satin sheets.
She leaned forward and glanced through the doorway leading to the bedroom.
Yup. Kind of a surprise, too, because Helena and Niccolo—a vampire and ex-vampire—had excellent taste in furnishings for their private homes. But this? She made a sour face. Icky.
Ooh! New reason! Vampires are icky, number four: their homes look like an after-hours strip club minus the pole.
To be clear, the pole would be an improvement—liven up the place a little.
“Are you still here? I said get the fuck out!” Kinich screamed.
And while she was adding to her icky list, she should also note that vampires were in a constant state of irritability. So. Annoying. She’d yet to meet a male vampire who didn’t trigger an urge in her to kick him in the man taters. Exception being Kinich, of course. Poor guy. He lived for sunshine. And now he was anti-sunshine.
Mr. Cloud?
“Kinich, I know things are rough, but Penelope needs you. She calls every day, crying and asking to come see you—”
His head snapped up. Those eyes, which were usually a stunning turquoise like hers, turned coal-mine black. “I tried to kill her. Fucking kill her, Ixtab! What she needs is nothing to do with me.”
She wanted to reach out and provide comfort, but she’d yet to ever touch a vampire. Who knew what might happen? Probably not the best time to find out.
“You’re still adjusting,” she argued. “Give it time—”
“I’ve had sixty-five! Sixty-fucking-five bags of fucking blood and can think of nothing but drinking her! She’s carrying my baby, for fuck sake.”
“Jeez. I wasn’t aware vampires were so into naughty words.” Reminds me of the physicist actually. “I love naughty words by the way, but only when used sparingly and in witty, creative context. So can I buy a non-f-word, please, Alex? I’ll take Tormented Vampires and Their Stranded Pregnant Mortals for two hundred dollars.”
Kinich didn’t laugh.
Dammit. She was only trying to make him feel better.
“Okay. I need to work on my jokes,” she said. “I feel like that damned android from Star Trek—Info? Or… Megabit?” She scratched her temple. What was his name?Well, I guess I know what I’m doing tonight: reruns!
“Seriously, Kinich, you’re going to have to find a way to get over this—whatever the hell it is—and go to her. Otherwise, you’ll lose her.”
He laughed into the air like a madman.
“What’s so funny?” Sporadic, inappropriately timed laughter always put Ixtab on edge. It reminded her of Belch right before something bad happened.
Kinich’s laughter died with a little sputter. “The irony. That’s what’s so goddamned funny.” He rubbed his forehead. “There was a time—not too long ago, in fact—that I would have given anything, anything at all, to be a vampire.”
Eww… “Why?” she asked.
“Right after I met Penelope, she was attacked by the Maaskab in her apartment and I happened to be on the phone with her.” He paused and swallowed. “The torture of listening to he
r screams was unbearable, and I said to myself, ‘I’m a deity. A goddamned deity! And I can’t save her. But a vampire could. A vampire could simply sift to her and always be there to protect her.’ ”
“You’re saying that you really wanted to become a vampire? Just to protect her?” Ixtab couldn’t believe that a god, the most powerful god in the Universe, would want such a thing.
“I suppose I did. Now, that doesn’t matter. Not only am I unable to sift because the Maaskab barricaded that dimension, I’m Penelope’s biggest threat. In fact, thank gods I can’t sift; there’d be no way to keep her safe from me.”
Wow. In some ways, he was right. Vampires being unable to sift was a hidden blessing. Funny how things sorta work out that way sometimes.
“She’s fucking better off without me,” he added.
“Ahhh. Spoken like a clueless dipshit. Because with the sort of despair she’s enduring, she will end up with someone, and that someone will be Zac.”
Kinich’s nostrils flared. “Zac?”
“Yes, brother. She has the weight of the world on her shoulders and a baby on the way. If she fails…” Ixtab couldn’t bear to finish the dreary, apocalyptic thought. “Everything is at stake, and she needs someone to stand by her side. Friends aren’t enough. The gods aren’t enough. She needs… you. And if she can’t have you, then eventually she will cave. Zac is quite determined.”
Kinich snarled.
Ixtab nodded. “Good. I’m glad you understand. I’ll be back to check on you tomorrow. In the meantime, I suggest you take this.” She slipped a small, insulated pouch from her enormous floral handbag. “It’s a vial of Penelope’s blood from her doctor. Start desensitizing yourself.”
Kinich’s eyes fixated on the pouch. Saliva dribbled from the corner of his mouth.
Oh, sweet gods. “Get a hold of yourself. It’s only blood.”
“It smells…” He sniffed the air. “Delicious.”
It was going to be a very, very long week. “Just don’t drink the stuff. I had Belch put a drop of his ball sweat in the vial.”
Kinich dropped his head. “You are too cruel.”
Vampires Need Not...Apply?: An Accidentally Yours Novel (The Accidentally Yours Series) Page 5