SUN GOD SEEKS...SURROGATE?

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  “Kinich. Say something—anything.”

  “I—I…Sleep, Penelope. You will need your strength. For tomorrow.”

  Ouch, ouch, ouch.

  CHAPTER 30

  Kinich and I spoke but a few words while I got ready the next morning. Really, though, what was there to say? I loved him. He lusted me and was enjoying the ride inside my mortal body.

  Could be worse, I suppose.

  At least I knew he cared. But he seemed to have made up his mind and refused to consider any other possibilities. We weren’t meant to be together, according to him. Period.

  The irony was that we felt so right. How could he not see that?

  And he wants to make you immortal. What did that mean? Talk about confusing.

  He said it himself, he feels the need to protect you. It’s…“hardwired.”

  Stop, Pen! Stop acting like a victim. Remember, you can’t control the lemons, but you choose what to do with them. You choose how to deal. So…deal.

  Okay. What would be my move, then?

  He doesn’t love you. You need to…move on.

  Easier said than done.

  I went in the bathroom to fix my hair. My dark green eyes looked much lighter now. Was it because my whites were so red? Or was Kinich’s energy doing something to me? I pulled back my now chin-length hair with a red bandanna I’d rolled into a headband. With my hair out of the way, I noticed that even my face looked different: tired, but my cheeks rosier.

  Must be a sun god thing.

  I threw on my last clean outfit, a pink T-shirt and jeans. I hoped the gods didn’t expect me to come in some deity getup like She-Ra or K’ak.

  When I left Kinich’s room, I found Gabrán and Brutus waiting for me. Gabrán wore a blue-and-green kilt with a white dress shirt and had his red hair pulled back into a neat braid. His expression was stone-cold serious.

  “Why do I get the feeling that these summits are scarier than everyone is letting on?”

  “Everything will be fine, Penelope,” Kinich assured me.

  I refrained from saying anything snarky or bitter—my wounded ego didn’t welcome any comfort from him.

  Gabrán turned down the hall with Brutus trailing behind us. I knew we were going to the large meeting room on the west side of Kinich’s estate. He’d told me this was where they met.

  “The last time these marauders got in tae the same room, they burnt down Sun God’s house. ’Twas not the worst of it tho, lass. Four dinna walk out. K’ak has nae forgiven Acan for twisting off his head.”

  I cringed. “That’s awful. What started the fight?”

  “Pretzels.”

  Kinich groaned. “Must we relive this?”

  “Pretzels?” I asked.

  “Ay. K’ak asked for the pretzels. Acan, God of Wine—

  “You mean, Belch?” I asked.

  “Ay. Belch was drunk, as usual, and had eaten them all.”

  Okeydokey.

  “Colel got up to go find more before a fight broke out, but she accidentally closed the door behind her.”

  Umm. Why did I have the feeling this story was going to a very weird, disturbing place?

  Oh! Because it was.

  “Ay. Colel is the Mistress of Bees. And where she goes, her bees go. The tiny buggers get verra upset when they are separated so they began to attack A.C.”

  “A.C.?” I asked, unsure who that was.

  “Ah-Ciliz, the God of Eclipses.” Gabrán shook his head. “An lemme tell ya, lass. The bloke does nae have a sense o’ humor. He’s a verra dark SOB.”

  No, reallllly? God of Eclipses, dark? Who would’ve thunk it?

  “The rest is history,” Gabrán continued. “K’ak and Acan started tearing at each other’s heads. Kinich jumped in to stop them but got tangled up with A.C. and the bees. O’ course, Kinich then accidentally released a spark and caught the furniture on fire. The entire estate went up in flames in twenty minutes.” Gabrán chuckled. “Kinich was madder than a naked leprechaun.”

  Oh gods. No. Please don’t tell me…“Leprechauns? They aren’t real, too, are they?”

  “Ay,” Gabrán replied.

  Sure. Why not? Gods and vampires and various combos in between. Just add tiny men dressed in green with pots of gold. Christ, while we’re at it, how about the chupacabra? Why the hell not? “Annnd, do I want to know why naked leprechauns are angry?”

  Gabrán flashed a smile over his shoulder as we followed him along a long hallway that I’d never been down. He then held up his pinky.

  “Oh.” Made sense.

  “In any case, be on your guard today, lass. The gods are an unruly bunch.”

  He stopped in front of two heavy double doors made of blond, unfinished wood. The Mayan calendar was carved on one side and the Mayan sun on the other.

  He reached for the handle, and then paused. “Any last minute questions, lass?”

  “Did someone make sure there are plenty of pretzels on the table?”

  He laughed. “Ay. That we did.”

  “And a fire extinguisher?”

  He nodded yes.

  “How about a beekeeper suit?”

  Again he nodded.

  Kinich finally spoke up. “Penelope, please stop wasting time. The world’s fate lies in our hands.”

  “Oh. Right.” I took a deep breath. “Alrighty, then. Let’s summit.”

  The doors opened and Gabrán stepped to one side.

  CHAPTER 31

  Unlike the rest of Kinich’s ostentatious Southwestern-style estate, this room could have been a chamber located in the bowels of Chichén Itzá during its heyday when Mayan kings roamed the Yucatán and built massive pyramids in honor of the gods. The walls and high ceilings were pale, with every square inch covered in hieroglyphics of animals, men, suns, moons, and stalks of wheat and corn.

  Is that…? I pointed to the wall to my right and looked at Gabrán. “A glyph of Kathy Griffin?” It was an image about the size of a dinner plate, but the resemblance was uncanny.

  “Ay. Cimil is a big fan. She insisted we pay homage.”

  Sure. Why the hell not?

  My eyes continued wandering over the windowless room. Recessed lighting illuminated the chamber, giving it an eerie glow. In the center was a large, smooth limestone table with six throne-like chairs on each side and one at each end. The fourteen thrones were carved with different symbols: dragons, flowers, and…

  “Penises?” I pointed to the throne toward the middle on the left side.

  “Ay, lass,” Gabrán said in a melancholy tone, “’twas Chaam’s.”

  Nice. This was where the fate of humankind was decided? Upon thrones adorned with critters and man-goodies?

  Suuure, why not?

  “Very impressive. Who’s your decorator?” I said.

  “Ah. I hear the judgmental tone. But this was far better than the country-western barn theme that Cimil wanted, complete with goats and bales of hay for seats. At least this is fireproof and produces no manure.”

  “Good choice.”

  I pivoted on my heel to inspect the rest of the room. At the far end was another doorway leading to a small chamber with wall-to-wall texts. There was also an enormous flat screen TV mounted on the wall to my left.

  “What’s that for?”

  “Movie night,” Gabrán responded. “The room has built-in surround sound and if ya press this”—he pointed to a giant, red button on the wall—“the table and thrones flip over an’ turn into theater seats. Verra modern, ’tis it not?”

  “Oh, definitely…” not to mention so very, very weird. I could only guess what sort of movies they watched.

  The Gods Must Be Crazy. Definitely.

  A quiet shuffling caught my attention. Fierce-looking Uchben solders filed inside the chamber, lining up against the parameter of the room. Like Brutus, they wore black tees, cargoes, and boots. This must’ve been Gabrán’s elite team I’d heard him mention a few times—Brutus was one, I think.

  “Lass, time for
you to take your seat.” Gabrán pointed to the throne at the head of the table. The back had a large sun chiseled into it. Set out, directly in front of my seat, was the stone tablet and silver stylus Kinich had told me about. They were used to record the agenda and any decisions.

  I slipped into the seat and tried to steady my nerves. Be the honey badger. Be the honey badger. I am the honey badger.

  The way Kinich explained it, there was nothing to be afraid of, but keeping order was difficult. The gods tended to behave like petulant siblings looking to outdo one another. Fights often broke out, which was bad because decisions didn’t get made. Therefore, keeping everyone to the protocols and rules was Kinich’s, and now my, main function.

  The room began to hum and vibrate. I froze.

  “It’s all right, Penelope. Just relax. They are coming,” Kinich spoke in a low, calming voice.

  “What’s happening?” I asked.

  “They are releasing a little energy. It’s for show. Simply stay calm and don’t allow them to distract you with their theatrics.”

  The first to enter was K’ak—don’t laugh, don’t laugh—and, like the evening before, he wore a blue toga. His silver-streaked hair hung to his ankles and his jade headdress made him an ergonomic accident waiting to happen.

  “That looks really heavy. Do you do neck exercises?” I couldn’t help but ask.

  “Among other parts of my body. Would you care to see?” He reached for the hem of his toga and began lifting.

  “Oh no. I’ll take your word for it.”

  He shrugged, dropped the fabric, and set a small, onyx turtle in front of me. “You forgot to take your offerings yesterday.”

  Oh no. Not this again.

  I pasted a smile on my face. “Thanks.”

  The room rumbled loudly, like a passing train, as they entered the room one by one, left their “gifts,” and then took their seats.

  I held back a gasp as suicide lady—again dressed in a veil and head-to-toe black—plopped her dead rat on top of the pile of goodies. “Wow. Thank you. And, it’s a day older now, too.” So, so special. Yes…

  Finally, Zac sauntered in. Like the day before, he looked exquisite and undeniably masculine. No, I wasn’t in the market, but I couldn’t help but appreciate his large, well-built body donning leather pants that hugged his powerful thighs.

  I blinked and then snapped my gaping mouth shut.

  “Your box.” Smiling, he held it out for me to see.

  I looked at it, then at him. I had no idea what I was supposed to do.

  “Wow. That’s a…really, really nice…empty box,” I said loudly, hoping Kinich would sense my discomfort and throw me a bone.

  “It is for the rat, Penelope,” Kinich advised.

  “Oh! How thoughtful. Thank you.” I plucked the rat up by the tippy-tip of its tale and dropped it inside, closing the lid quickly.

  With a smile and a dip of the head, Zac’s thick waves of black hair slid over his icy aquamarine eyes. “My pleasure.”

  My entire body broke out in goose bumps. Wow. I didn’t know what he was the god of, but I voted that Zac be the new God of Male Virility. He looked like a hunky, fallen dark angel that had taken up modeling bad-boy clothing. I know. Weird, right? But that’s what he reminded of, and he wore the look well.

  Zac took his seat next to me and continued grinning with what had to be the most blatant, flirtatious smile ever to walk the face of the planet—if smiles could walk, that is. In any case, my inner girly-girl couldn’t help but be flattered.

  “Penelope,” Kinich warned, “tell whichever of my brothers is turning on the charm to can it. You are taken.”

  Taken? I am? My heart did a victory lap. He was jealous…Oh yeah!

  “Really now? That’s not what you said last night,” I mumbled quietly into my hand.

  “I said nothing last night,” he growled.

  “Exactly.”

  Again, he growled. “We will discuss this later, woman.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” Okay. I was being a little petty. But dammit. He so deserved it.

  “Yes, we will. Because my brothers are off-limits.”

  “Eternity is a long time to spend alone, Minotaur. So why don’t you make up your mind.”

  “Uh-hum.” Someone cleared their throat.

  I looked up and found the other gods glaring. Except for Zac. He was still smiling.

  “Sorry.” I rose from the seat as Kinich had instructed. “I call this Summit of the House of the Gods to order on this day of…”

  Gabrán quickly chimed in. “December twenty-first.”

  Why did I know that date?

  My mother’s birthday?

  No.

  Jess’s or Anne’s? No. Their b-days were in the summer.

  BOGO day at Macy’s shoe department?

  Nope.

  “It is the day of the Mayan apo…blah blah blah,” Kinich’s voice faded to nothing.

  “Sorry? But did you say apocalypse?”

  “Yes. The Maya prophesied that the end of the world would start today.”

  Holy shit! “Apocalypse! Today? Well, hell. You could’ve told me, Kinich!”

  I felt a firm grasp on my hand. “It is nothing to worry about, Penelope. They were a superstitious people.” Zac’s smoldering, hypnotic gaze was relentless.

  “Sorry, but,” I asked, “what are you the god of? Can’t recall.”

  He smiled brightly. “When I figure that out, you’ll be the first to know.” He lifted my hand and planted a lingering kiss.

  “Fucking saints! Off. Limits. Penelope,” Kinich barked.

  My entire body tensed up. “What? I didn’t do anything.”

  “I feel every goddamned sensation in your body. And right now you’re reacting to something.”

  Hmmm. Was I? Okay, maybe a little. But Zac was hot. Who couldn’t help but be a teensy bit flattered? In any case, it was an innocent appreciation of an astoundingly handsome male, but it didn’t run within a spit’s distance of what I felt for Kinich.

  Regardless…

  “Afraid of a little competition?” I prodded.

  “Grrrr,” was all I heard in response.

  A satisfied grin swept across my face.

  “Alrighty. I hereby call to order the Summit of the Gods. Who among you wishes to nominate a topic for the agenda?”

  Instantly, four hands shot into the air.

  “Kinich? I can’t remember. Do I go counterclockwise or clockwise?” I whispered.

  “Clockwise. The gods are seated around the table according to their rank and power. Except for the Bacabs, who sit in accordance with North, South, East, and West.”

  “What’s a Bacab?” I whispered.

  “They are the eldest four and therefore slightly more powerful than the rest—except for those of us whose gifts are based physical powers.”

  I made a mental note to forget that bit of foolishness as soon as possible.

  The first topic, as expected, was nominated by Guy and received unanimous consent to be added to the agenda. Suicide lady asked to discuss a rotation of powers. Apparently she nominated this topic every summit, but everyone voted her down because nobody wanted to risk inheriting her position.

  Poor, poor lady.

  Next came the topic of what to do about Kinich’s and my predicament. Also unanimous. Finally, the Mistress of Bees, who wore a bright yellow, formfitting satin jumpsuit and very large beehive on her head, nominated to address the recent surge in pirated e-books, but no one seemed to know what an e-reader was, so they declined.

  “Okay, then.” I clapped my hands together. “I hereby close the nominations for—”

  “I have a topic, Penelope,” Kinich chimed in. “Two, actually.”

  “Oh, sorry. Didn’t see your hand.” I looked around the table. “Kinich has two topics,” I informed everyone since they couldn’t hear him.

  “I request that the House of the Gods discuss and call to a vote the banning of deity procreation.�
��

  I gulped. “You mean…”

  “Yes, the banning of the making of Payals.”

  He wanted to make me—well, more of me—illegal?

  “Penelope, humans and gods were not meant to bear children. It goes against the natural order of the universe and there are consequences when we take such action.”

  Kinich sighed. Obviously, he could sense my shock and despair. Even my hair follicles were sad.

  “Penelope, you must understand. It is my duty to protect humanity. I cannot look the other way simply because I have feelings for you.”

  Did he truly believe my life was a mistake? An abomination that would destroy mankind? Me? I couldn’t even cook, so attributing the destruction of civilization to me was a pretty far stretch.

  And I couldn’t help where I came from or who my ancestors were any more than I could help that I had a deity stuck inside my body.

  Well…well…fine! He’d made his feelings known. What could I do aside from pretend he hadn’t mortally wounded me?

  I squared my shoulders and looked up, realizing that the entire room waited with baited breath. “Um…he wants to put the banning of making more Payals to a vote.”

  There was a communal nod, but no reactions. Seemed everyone had been expecting this.

  I counted the raised hands around the table. There were five: Belch, She-Ra, Suicide, Bees, and Eclipses.

  Bees gave me a sympathetic glance while waving her hand in front of her face to see through the swarm of bees circling her head. “I’m sorry, Penelope, but I think we should, at least, hear what Kinich has to say.”

  Guy suddenly stood up and pounded his hands on the table, “You are all fools! Fools! And I’m warning you now, if you side with Kinich, I will not obey.”

  Bees’ tiny yellow subjects began circling faster. “Then you will be banished permanently.”

  Zac chimed in. “We have not agreed to discuss the matter. There must be a majority vote. Only five hands have been raised.”

  All heads turned toward me.

  “How do you vote, Kinich?” Zac asked.

  My heart thumped like a bongo. “Please don’t, Kinich. Please don’t do this,” I whispered.

  “I am sorry,” he said, his voice filled with only a hint of remorse. “I vote yes.”