“Penelope!” He ran into what had to be her bedroom; it smelled like her.
Empty.
“Bloody hell.”
Kinich closed his eyes and opened his senses. He hoped to feel or hear anything that might indicate which direction she’d been taken. If he could figure out that much, he had a chance of catching up.
Unless she’s been taken by an Obscuro. Which he prayed wasn’t the case. Obscuros—dark vampires—were multiplying like cockroaches and missing persons reports were through the roof. It was believed they were turning their victims, building an army to prepare for the Great War that Cimil had prophesied.
This was the reason he’d come to New York in the first place; he’d been spending some quality time with an old—very, very old—friend who might help with this problem. For a price, naturally.
Kinich sensed a small disturbance in the air to his side, like a void or an absence of light. Once again, he closed his eyes and allowed his mind to drift into the atmosphere, hoping to catch a tiny whiff of her essence in the air.
There!
His eyes flew open, and he darted for the door. He almost reached the threshold to the outer hallway when his eyes caught another glimpse of the broken potted plant. A tiny clump of bloody hair stuck to one jagged edge of a large piece of the pot.
His heart skipped exactly three beats. “Holy saints.”
He picked up the shard and gave it a whiff. He immediately tossed it back to the floor when the foul stench permeated his nose.
Not an Obscuro.
“Fucking Maaskab.”
But why would they want Penelope?
CHAPTER 9
You know that scene in Alien vs. Predator when the woman stands right in front of Mr. Predator, almost pees in her pants, and then decides to team up with him to avoid becoming alien chow? Well, facing that monster standing at my door had been exactly like that. Only, without the teaming up part because I was pretty dang sure he’d viciously murder me on the spot.
No. Not going to be sci-fi BFFs.
The hulking beast occupied my entire doorway with his deadly looking, soot-covered body clothed in a black leather loincloth of sorts. His hair was unlike anything I’d ever seen: long black ropes of crusty dreads down to his midsection. He looked like he’d shampooed, rinsed, and conditioned it in a slaughterhouse, and then, for good measure, did a little spritz with evil stench behind the ears.
I immediately gagged from the smell and sprinted to the kitchen where the only weapon in the apartment lay tucked away in a drawer.
The man, monster, demon—whatever—caught me by my hair, and I flew back with a snap that nearly broke my neck. My body arched painfully backward as he fisted my hair and pressed my head against his foul-smelling chest. Snarling and growling, his black-and-crimson eyes drilled into me.
“What…do…you…want?” I managed to croak.
He said nothing, but an unmistakable sense of doom crept into my bones.
He lowered his head ever so slightly and took a long, hard whiff. His eyes rolled back in his head.
Holy hounds of hell.
At such an angle I felt the muscles in my back stretching and pulling in an unnatural direction. I had to do something. Anything.
Across the back of my arm, I felt the tiny tickle of my giant, feathery philodendron that sat on the center of my coffee table. I reached out my hand and grasped a bundle of leaves close to the roots and swung hard. I landed a blow on the side of the monster’s head.
He stumbled for a moment and released me to the floor.
I righted myself and bolted to the kitchen where I yanked open the knife drawer and sent its contents scattering across the floor. The giant Chinese cleaver landed an inch from my big toe.
That was a close call, little piggy!
I swooped for it and then quickly reached for something else to hurl.
The cookie jar on the counter! Empty, of course. Snicker doodles. I ate them.
The moment the monster appeared in the doorway, I smashed the jar in the center of his face. Blood gushed from his nose, but he simply smiled and flashed his blackened teeth.
I raised my cleaver and swung, but he moved to the side and caught my wrist. How had he moved so frigging fast?
He lunged for me, but I quickly twisted my body and used his momentum to throw him off balance. He did a face-plant. I took advantage and slammed the entire weight of my body into an elbow thrust at the back of his neck.
“That’s right, asshole. Black belt!” I bounced up and gave him a kick in the ribs for good measure.
Then he started to get up.
“What are you? Voodoo Terminator?”
I wasn’t going to stick around for an answer to that question. I bolted for the front door, swiped my boots, and didn’t stop running until I was at least ten blocks away. In the back of my mind I’d planned on going to the nearest police station—another ten blocks—or throwing myself in front of the nearest patrol car.
But fantastic miracles do happen! No traffic? Of course, for me, at the wrong time. The one day—ever—that I wanted to see an abundance of people and cars, and the street was vacant? Normally, at this time of evening, there would be traffic aplenty.
Okay. The best plan of action was to get as far away as possible, then go to the police.
I started running again, my bare feet ice cold and wet, toward the subway station. I rounded the corner to my right. The monster emerged from a side street directly ahead with his back to me. How the hell had he ended up in front of me?
I made a split-second decision to turn back the way I’d come. I ran one block then hooked to my right down an alley.
Shit. Shit. It was a dead end. Why had I gone that way?
I turned around and darted back out to the street, thinking I’d simply continue running until the next block. But the moment I emerged from the alley, the bastard was there again. Again! But how? How?
I dashed back into the alley but stopped halfway down its length, panting and on the verge of an epic freak-out. Where do I go? Where? Where? Think dammit. Think, Penelope!
It was a dead end for Christ’s sake. There was only once choice: Hide behind the dumpster in the middle of the alley.
I bolted toward my sanitation sanctuary, crouched, and tried to calm my breathing. But with the city’s eerie silence, a mouse scratching its privates could be heard for ten blocks.
Oh please, God. Oh please. Help me, I prayed silently with my hands clasped.
You’re agnostic, Penelope. Think that’s gonna really work?
Doesn’t hurt to try…
Then it struck me. Cimil’s handbook.
It had read: Do not open the door for people who don’t identify themselves. Run in the opposite direction of rotting stench. Do not hide behind dumpsters.
What the hell was going on? Was she some sort of psychic?
And now what would I do? I was hiding behind the dumpster. Just like Cimil had instructed not to.
Hide inside the dumpster.
No. I can’t. This was New York City—there could be anything in there: rotten food, broken glass, a dead body.
You idiot. You’re going to be the dead body if he finds you.
Oh hell. What had I done to deserve this?
I slowly peeked around the edge of the dumpster toward the main street. Coast was clear for the moment. I slipped on my boots, lifted the heavy, plastic-molded lid, and slipped inside.
The stench was—freaking instant-gag-reflex smells of hell!—the most god-awful thing my nose had ever witnessed. Old fish and rotten eggs, mixed with something dead. Thank the universe for small favors such as winter, because had it been summer, my tossed cookies would be joining those smells.
Regardless, I pinched my nose and clamped my eyes shut.
Find a weapon. Anything. A glass bottle, a lid to a tin can, anything.
Oh, I hate you, I argued with myself, and your practical advice!
I reached out my hand, instantly findin
g something squishy and wet.
Ew, ew, ew.
I stretched my hand a little farther and found something long and hard. I wrapped my fingers around it and—
The lid flew open. My reflexes instantly took over, and I sprang from the dumpster, swinging with everything I had.
An arm reached out in midair and caught my wrist. “Penelope? What the hell are you doing inside there?” Kinich’s towering mass stood before me, barefoot and shirtless.
Kinich!
I was never so happy to see anyone in my entire life. I jumped and flung my arms around his neck. “Oh, thank God!”
I instantly felt my body hum with delight. His smell, his warmth…Touching him felt like being bathed in a euphoric tropical wave complete with magical seahorses and mermaids and…endless orgasms?
He gently pushed me away and crinkled his nose. “Jeez, woman. You smell awful.” He glanced at my hand. “And why are you holding that?”
“What?” I looked at my right hand. Yes. I was indeed gripping a stale baguette.
How very deadly.
I dropped it to the ground and began rattling on about what had happened. Kinich stared at me like I was insane.
But wait. “Not that I’m ungrateful—hell, I’m so happy to see you, I would name my first child after…I can’t believe I said that.”
He frowned.
“How did you find me?” I finally asked. “And what happened to your clothes? Are you okay? You must be freezing.”
Kinich considered my questions, clearly thinking long and hard about his answers. “I heard your scream and—”
It happened so fast, my brain simply couldn’t process it.
Kinich flew to one side and landed with a smack! on the cement. The monster was on top of him trying to wrap some sort of bumpy-looking rope around his neck. Kinich grunted with pain for a moment and then screamed, “Penelope, get back in the dumpster!”
“But…”
“Do it now, woman!”
I didn’t know what else to do, so I obeyed.
As soon as the lid thumped down, a burst of blinding light flashed outside. My eyes instinctively squeezed shut, and I turned away to shield my face from the heat seeping in through the tiny gap of the heavy lid.
Then, it was over, and I heard Kinich moaning.
I slowly peeked out and saw him lying on the cement. A pile of ash covered his half-naked body, and the monster was gone.
CHAPTER 10
My mind shuffled through all the possible explanations of what I’d just witnessed. Someone had put LSD in the public water supply, hoping to create the next Steve Jobs?
No.
Matrix the movie was real, and I’d lived through a binary blip?
No.
Asleep?
No.
Deep coma? Not on your life.
Well, poop! This can’t be real! Give me something. Anything! I don’t want the only plausible explanation to be that I’m crazy. That would suck. Badly.
Penelope, maybe now’s not the time to figure it out.
Kinich writhed on the ground.
“Oh hell.” I climbed from the dumpster and rushed to his side. “Are you okay? What’s wrong? How do I help you?”
His anguished expression seemed only to worsen. “Just…ahhhh”—he rolled to his side, then back again—“give me a second.”
“Oh, okay.” My hands hovered over him, eagerly awaiting any instructions.
After a minute, his face relaxed and his breathing steadied. “Help me up.”
“Um—sure.” I stood and latched onto his hand—it was boiling hot—and began pulling him up. With a few awkward grunts and heaves he was up and steadying himself on my shoulders.
“We need to get you somewhere safe,” he said, his voice low and raspy. “More might be coming.”
Demons on whole wheat toast! There are…more?
He yanked me by the hand and started for the nearby street. He muttered something unintelligible under his breath.
“Sorry?” I said.
“Get in.”
Get into what…?
A cab pulled up directly in front of us.
What the…? “But there were no cars a minute ago. It’s the weirdest goddamned thing…”
Kinich yanked open the door and shoved me in. He quickly gave instructions to the driver and then closed his eyes.
He’s closing his eyes? Of all the possible ways to react to this situation, and this guy wants a nap?
“Would you care for a blankie and a graham cracker?”
He didn’t move an inch.
“Excuse me. But mind telling me…What! The! Hell! Is going on!”
Kinich cracked open one turquoise eye, gave me a “don’t mess with me” look, and then snapped it shut again.
“Excuse me,” I screamed, “I get that whatever happened back there was very rough on you! And that you’re probably suffering from frostbite on your toes and nipples”—look at that chest. Holy shit, he’s so damned built—“but I just had some Medusa-haired monster who smelled like cooked innards show up to my apartment to kill me.”
“He wasn’t there to kill you,” Kinich interrupted. “Not yet, anyway.”
“Thanks. Thanks for removing the turd from my punch bowl. But it still smells like shi—”
“Penelope!” His eyes snapped open. “Please be silent. I am trying to think.”
How. Dare. He! I poked his bare arm—oh…so strong. “Don’t you ever talk to me like that again. Do you hear me?”
He sighed. “Damned humans. Never listen.” He focused in on my eyes. “Sleep, Penelope. Sleep.”
Like I’d been hypnotized into thinking that was exactly what I wanted to do, my eyes closed and my brain slipped into the abyss.
CHAPTER 11
“Not going to happen, buddy,” barked Andrus through the cracked door. “I already have two females to look after. And what the hell happened to your clothes?”
“Who needs clothes when you’re as hot as me,” Kinich replied with a grin. Holding Penelope in his arms made him feel like a dopey kid with a new shiny toy. “Now open the door.”
Andrus began shutting it instead.
Kinich shoved his bare foot in the opening and then pushed his shoulder into the door, careful not to crush Penelope.
Andrus stumbled back several feet. “Gods dammit! Goddamned gods never goddamn listen!”
Kinich marched through the living room, making a beeline to the guest quarters. “You know that makes no sense. We cannot damn ourselves. And just be grateful; not only am I in a good mood, I’ve got an important meeting tonight. Otherwise, I’d stick around merely to fuck with you,” he called out as he disappeared down the hallway.
Kinich stopped at the second set of doors and pushed. Like the rest of Niccolo and Helena’s lavish penthouse overlooking Central Park, the furniture was modern and white. The only splash of color came from the red pillows on the large king-size bed in the middle of the room.
He was about to set Penelope on top of the pristine white comforter but realized she was covered head to toe in…
He took a whiff and winced. “She smells like rotten cabbage.” He glimpsed at the doorway that led to the private bath, then cast his gaze on Penelope. He wondered, would she mind? He’d already seen her excruciatingly sumptuous, nude body.
You may have done more than that. He would give anything to remember what had occurred that evening. Unrelenting images hounded him day and night: Penelope’s naked, sweaty body pinned beneath him as he pumped his hard cock inside her, lost in her smell, her groans, her moist heat. A heat that had matched his own in every way—something he’d never fathomed. He’d been obsessed with seeing her again for that very reason.
Kinich began to grow hard.
Gods be damned!
“Down boy.”
In any case, once he got a hold of Cimil, he would decapitate her for her little prank. Idiot. Sex with mortals and having offspring were not recreational activitie
s—okay, perhaps the sex part was, but not the procreation. Definitely not that.
Thank heavens Penelope had not conceived. Not that he knew for certain if they’d had sex, but she’d removed the black jade necklace the morning after their night together. To be clear, he had nothing against children. In fact, the notion of being a father delighted him. It was one of the many aspects of human life for which the gods had been deprived. But his wants and desires were simply not on the table, and the matter boiled down to one truth: The universe demanded balance; it constantly strived for it. Life could not exist without it.
This was his belief, and he needed only to observe the world around him to see the evidence—the changing of the seasons, the food chain, Newton’s Laws of Motion. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.
Balance.
This meant that for each Payal created, the universe would create a counterbalance—something dark, something evil. And, as of late, evil had been busy. The Maaskab had been honing their skills, amplifying their powers. They could send the universe into a tailspin of self-destruction if they were allowed the upper hand for even one second.
Not on my fucking watch. Not even for…her.
No. He would not deny he wanted Penelope or that he eagerly wished to understand what drove his bottomless craving for the mortal’s body. But there was no endgame, and he knew it.
Mortals belonged with mortals. Gods belonged alone. That was the natural order.
But still, you can’t deny you want—you need—just one more taste…or…a first taste?
He lay Penelope on the thick, cream-colored carpet next to the bed and began untying her boots. They were thick and clunky with a fur lining. He half expected her to have on wool socks, but as he slipped them off, he saw she wore none. Her little toes were raw and frozen.
He clasped both hands around her delicate foot and directed warmth into each cell. The circulation quickly returned.
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