Accidentally in Love With a God (2012)

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  “Why? You're some…thing who was apparently trapped by some men—”

  “Dark priests, actually. Descendants from the Mayans,” he interrupted nonchalantly. “But they’re more powerful and vicious than one might think.”

  “Oh, great. Even better!” I threw up my hands. “And you were hunting them? But, of course, you won’t tell me why. And I'm the only person who can hear or talk to you on the entire planet, so I have to rescue you. Oh, and you're not human. But I'm supposed to trust you. Did I get that right, Guy?”

  “Yes, you did. And see? I knew you would never believe me.”

  “You're right. I don’t believe any of this.”

  My grandmother sometimes told stories of the existence of another world, but I thought she was just having fun. And, I knew she was a New-Age kind of person who believed in energies and spirits. I could swallow those concepts, sort of. But this? Not a man? What did that mean? Was he an alien? Demon? Monster?

  I stood and began pacing under the tree, kicking small pebbles off the side of the road. I still had to go to him; there was no other way out. Doing nothing meant suffering to the point of insanity. Attempting to free him gave me a chance at a normal life and to find out what happened to my grandmother. Sadly, all roads led to extremely bad places, like this jungle.

  “Emma, what more can I do to convince you?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Fine. You win. Leave me to rot for eternity.”

  “Not a chance because I’m not rotting with you.” I opened my mouth to say something else, but then a tiny green dot appeared on the horizon. It was an actual taxi.

  “Ha! See! I am good luck. Admit it.” I clapped.

  The chewed-up lime green taxi slowed and pulled to the side. “Buenas tardes, señor, voy a las cabañas Maya Sol,” I said in my best español to the hot and tired looking driver.

  “What was that? Klingon? You really need to work on that accent of yours, Emma. It’s embarrassing,” Guy said.

  Arrogant turd. “I guess I’ll never be a master of the universe like you, Guy.” I realized that was a stupid comeback. Maybe he was master of the universe. Anything could be possible at this point, and he did know a lot about history, science, and math. Let’s not forget he spoke almost every language on the planet, according to him.

  “Perdón señorita?” asked the driver.

  “Oh. Um—” I paused trying to think of the word. “Nada.”

  The taxi driver nodded and waited for me to load myself in. We drove for several minutes before the driver told me he passed down the highway every day at the same time to pick up passengers from the bus.

  “More like dumb-lucky,” Guy jabbed at my earlier statement about being good luck.

  “Jerk,” I said, hoping the driver didn’t understand English or wonder why I was talking to myself.

  The car continued for several minutes, finally turning down a narrow dirt road that cut into the jungle. The tree branches swiped the sides of the open windows as we passed, flicking small pieces of bark and leaves at my face. After several bumpy minutes, the road opened up into a large sunny clearing with an enormous thatched-roof structure at one end and several huts at the other.

  I left the taxi and was immediately greeted by a sweet looking, old couple. Their faces were dark brown and leathery from the sun, with deep soulful wrinkles around the edges of their eyes. The woman had long white hair pulled neatly back into a bun and wore a white dress with elaborately embroidered flowers. The man had straggly silver hair pushed under a worn straw hat. They were too cute, in a rustic sort of way.

  The man reached out for my bag and spoke in a thick local accent, “Hemos estado esperandote mi-ja.”

  I did a double take. “Did you say you've been waiting for me? Your daughter?”

  “He meant—we’re glad you've come to stay with us…my dear,” said the woman, plucking a leaf from my hair. “My name is Señora Rosa, and this is my husband Señor Arturo. Will you be staying long?”

  “Tell her you’re only staying one day, that you’re an avid bird watcher and heard about the toucans.”

  “I don’t know, exactly,” I said, ignoring Guy. I hated when he barked orders. “I’m just passing through, doing a little sightseeing. Then I have to head back to Cancun to meet my friends,” I lied.

  They both gave me a peculiar look.

  “You’ve taken quite a detour just to see our quiet corner of the state. What kind of sights are you here to see?” the woman asked.

  “The lake, birds...you know, stuff like that. Maybe it’d be nice to see a few of those Mayan ruins I’ve read so much about.”

  “Emma, stick to the plan. You childish—”

  “Oh. I see.” She narrowed her eyes. Was she trying to size me up? “Well, most of those things are an hour or two hike from here, and it’s much too late in the day to start out. So, you’ll have to wait until morning.”

  “Well, I’m really tight on time, and it looks like there are a few more hours of sunlight—”

  “Don’t argue with her. Just check into your cabaña and go. You can still make it!”

  “But you’re probably right. I don’t want to get lost in the dark.” I agreed with Rosa just to irritate Guy. In reality, I was just as anxious to get this over with as he was.

  She nodded. “Good. I’ll show you to your cabin.” She turned to Arturo and mumbled something in a language I didn’t recognize, and then started toward a row of thatched roof huts. “Dinner is at eight if you’re hungry, and we sell good trail maps for your hike tomorrow, if you’re interested. Oh, and do not forget to bring a walking stick with you.”

  “A walking stick? Is it a difficult hike?” I asked.

  “No, for protection—from snakes and other animals. We even have jaguars, but if you see one, say a prayer. Don’t bother with the stick.”

  Oh, goody. Jaguars.

  “Here we are.” She stopped in front of the very last hut and handed me a small key.

  The cabaña didn’t look like anything special—palm-frond roof, stone and mortar walls, a few random geckos playing “you can’t see me”—but when I turned toward the other direction, I saw a breathtaking view of the water a few yards down the hill. It sparkled like a jewel composed of every luminescent shade of blue, green, and turquoise. The lush shoreline was peppered with wooden docks. “That’s a lake, not the ocean?” I asked.

  Rosa nodded.

  I’d never seen anything like it before. It reminded me of that man’s eyes from my dreams. “How come this place isn’t infested with all-inclusive resorts?” I asked.

  She chuckled. “Oh, the gods would never allow that.”

  Okaaay. “Thanks, Señora Rosa. I’ll probably hop down to the lake for a quick swim and then hit the hay as soon as the sun goes down.” I faked a yawn. “It’s been a long, hot day, and I want to get started early.”

  Once again, she narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Very well. There’s a flashlight on the shelf next to the bed. The generator shuts off at nine.”

  I nodded, tucking a few loose, humidity-crazed curls behind my ear. “Thanks.”

  “Hasta mañana, my dear.”

  I flashed a polite smile, trying to hide my frayed nerves, and shut the door. “Is it just me, or is that lady a little strange?” I wondered.

  “I don’t want you to panic, but you need to get out of there.”

  I dropped my backpack on the cement floor and froze. “Why? What’s wrong?” If I weren’t already sopping from head to toe, I would have started sweating; I knew in my bones he’d meant what he just said. I felt his fear for me.

  “What she said to her husband—it…”

  “What?” I was moving quickly into panic mode.

  “She said that he needed to go get the others, to tell them that you’d finally arrived.”

  “Oh, shit. Guy, right about now would be a good time to start talking.”

  “Emma, I don’t know how they could possibly know you.”

 
“Shit. Shit—”

  “Stop swearing and get moving. Put your bathing suit on, and pretend you’re going down to the lake. Wrap your wallet, map, and water bottle in your towel.”

  “Okay. Okay.” I panted, emptying the contents of my backpack onto the hammock that stretched across the room. I threw off my drenched clothes, which felt fantastic, and put on my bikini. I rolled up a fresh t-shirt and shorts, along with the other items in my towel. “Guy?”

  “What?”

  “I really have to pee.”

  “Oh Christ, woman. You have the bladder of a guppy.”

  “It’s been over five hours, which qualifies for ‘camel.’ Can you hum? My iPod’s out of juice.”

  Now’s no time for modesty, Emma. They could be coming for you any minute!

  “Fine. Did I tell you that I hate you?”

  Chapter TEN

  1940. Pizzaro’s Ship. Gulf of Mexico.

  Votan moved the ten, waist-high crates to the deck of the ship to make room for the crew in the hold below. He herded them in and locked the door, planning to cull out any souls worth salvaging later. Hell, who was he kidding? There weren’t any. He was very much going to enjoy lighting up this dry-rot infested vessel. He’d have to row his way back in one of the dinghies, but it would be well worth it.

  First, however, he wanted to learn more about these jars before they ended up on the bottom of the ocean. Why did Cimil want them? Clearly, she was knee-deep in this mess, but he couldn’t understand why.

  Was it possible she’d been responsible for teaching the Maaskab how to harness dark energy and block the gods from spying on them? But then, why hire the Spanish pirates to kill them? Maybe the Maaskab had turned on her? Maybe she was trying to cover her tracks? She knew Votan was on his way; everyone had been present when he was chosen for the mission.

  Votan pried off the already loose top of the crate and lifted out the jar. He stalked around it, inspecting carefully, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

  Votan gripped the round, dark gray ceramic lid with both hands and slowly lifted, bracing for the worst. He wasn’t afraid of dying—after all, he was immortal—but he still felt pain, especially when his human body got damaged.

  He waited several moments, squinting. Nothing. Why would Cimil go through so much trouble for a silly, useless jar? Had she finally lost her marbles? Or, perhaps there were scrolls inside. The jars could contain records, the priests’ knowledge of dark energy.

  By now, it was pitch black outside, so he could not see inside the jar. He tilted it forward and reached his arm down the narrow neck. A burning sensation instantly began crawling up his fingertips. He swiftly extracted his hand, screaming in agony as his fingers turned to smoldering ash. The crippling pain continued up his arm, eating the flesh.

  His knees buckled, and he watched in horror as the unbearable decay rapidly spread.

  ***

  When Votan awoke, encased in cool dark water, it was clear his body had been destroyed, his light sent back to the cenote. The same had happened once before, several centuries earlier when he’d accidentally fallen into a volcano. A long story.

  This time, however, something was wrong, alarmingly wrong.

  He struggled under the water as he felt the cenote rebuilding his physical form, particle by particle. He tried to break through to the surface, but something blocked him. The process of solidifying, of taking form, wasn’t completing itself.

  He pounded his fist with every ounce of energy he could muster, but the water held him tightly in its grasp. He looked beneath him and recited the phrase used to open the portal. Not even a flicker of light sparked. It, too, was sealed shut.

  No going forward. No going back.

  Chapter ELEVEN

  Present Day. Bacalar, Mexico.

  I followed the dirt trail down to the lake and then skirted the pebble-strewn shoreline before cutting through the dark jungle where I picked up the trail exactly where my map said it would be. I was fairly certain no one had followed me, but was that a good thing? If this turned out to be trap, there’d be no one to save me.

  The lonely silence was bone chilling, especially since I’d expected to see the jungle teaming with life—monkeys, rodents, tarantulas, etc.—but not an animal soul was in sight. Nevertheless, I quickly armed myself with a large stick.

  My footsteps made loud crunches as I walked for almost an hour over the leaf-covered path. The angle of the sun, now low in the sky, gave an ominous hue to the trees.

  “Guy, no offense, but this is starting to seriously freak me out, and I’m not sure this is worth the years of therapy I’m going to need.”

  “I was beginning to wonder how long it would take until the whining commenced.”

  “Not Funny. And have you thought about what’s going to happen to me after I get you out of there? That crazy old couple will be looking for me.”

  “I’ll make sure you get home safely. I promise.”

  Wait. He’d admitted he wasn’t human. Images flashed in my mind of showing up to my parent’s house with an Oompa Loompa or, perhaps, a green alien with a glossy black eyes. He couldn’t be that strange. Could he? “You’re not going to beam me onto a spaceship, are you?”

  He sighed. “No, Emma, I’m not a space alien.”

  “You’re not into making chocolate, by any chance, are you?”

  “Emma, focus please.”

  “Fine. But tell me, after I let you out, what'll happen?” Would I still be as obsessed with him? Would my curse be broken?

  “The people who did this to me should not be too far from here. I plan to find them, find out what they did to your grandmother. Then I plan to kill them.”

  My heart stopped. “What?”

  “I think the people who are responsible for my situation may be involved.”

  “Why would they want her?” Wait. Kill? That is a big, dirty word. He must mean it figuratively? I hope. Don’t ask.

  “As I said earlier, the dark priests had a reputation for…” He paused for several moments. “Killing women from this area. I don’t know why, but I will find out.”

  He was still hiding something. Was this why he was afraid for me to come here? And hold the presses. Grandma was from the area where Guy was trapped? I knew she was born in Mexico, but I didn’t know what town. Then again, Grandma never talked much about that part of her life. She’d said that after her parents died when she was five, she left Mexico to stay with her only living relatives in the U.S. So what reason would she have to go back?

  “You think she was near here when she disappeared?”

  “Yes.”

  “But why?”

  “I don’t know Emma, it’s a hunch.”

  Hunch my ass. “But you said you knew her.”

  “Yes, many years ago, I was traveling through this area, through her village, and I met her. It was right before I was trapped.”

  Why had my grandmother returned to Mexico, then? Who was she seeing? I stopped in my tracks. The trees suddenly flooded with boisterously squawking birds. “What are those?”

  “Toucans. Ignore them.”

  “Why are there so many all of a sudden?”

  “I don’t know, just go!”

  I swatted at the ravenous bugs encircling my head.

  “Not until you tell me!”

  “What?”

  “Are they going to come after me, too? Is this what you were protecting me from, Guy?”

  “Toucans don’t eat people, Emma.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You know what I meant.”

  He sighed. “Maybe. But I will protect you.”

  “What the hell have I gotten myself into?”

  “Too late to turn back now. Move!”

  Although he couldn’t see, I nodded in agreement and continued marching. After several minutes, I ran my hand over my sweat slicked neck. “How much farther?”

  “About half a mile, my sweet, and you’ll have to pick up the pace. It’s getting dark.”


  It was odd to think we were now so close we were under the same sky. “I’m moving as fast as—holy crap.” Standing twenty yards ahead was a boy about nine, dressed in all white cotton. His bright turquoise eyes glowed against his deep brown skin. He was staring; he seemed to be expecting me.

  “My point exactly. Crap is not very fast.”

  “It’s a boy,” I whispered. “With funny colored eyes.”

  “That’s odd,” he said, absurdly unalarmed.

  “I thought you told me to run if I saw anyone?”

  “I was thinking drug lords or bloodthirsty Mayan priests.”

  The boy stood motionless, his hands to his sides.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Ask him his name. What else?”

  Yes. Such the obvious answer. “Hi honey, what’s your name?” I called out.

  “In Spanish, Emma. We’re in Mexico.”

  “Oh. Right. ¿Cómo se llama?”

  His lips twitched into a smile. “Chac,” he answered and then ran.

  “Well, that worked great. He’s running away. What do I do now?”

  “Follow him! Go.”

  “Wait! Come back.” I followed as quickly as I could, but the branches and vines whipped my face and caught on my feet. “Why am I following him?”

  “He will lead you to the cenote.”

  “Cenote?” Oh no, bad, bad sign. This must be a trap because we were not going to where he said. “I thought I was going to a ruin.”

  “Just run, woman! The cenote is near the ruin.”

  “Why does he have turquoise eyes?” It couldn’t be a coincidence that they looked just like the man’s eyes from my dreams. Could it?

  “Christ, Emma, put it on the goddamned question list.”

  I followed the boy for what seemed like an eternity but my muscles burned, and, finally, I had to slow to a fast walk. “I…can’t…Guy,” I panted, trying to catch my breath. “The air…is way… too thick for any aerobic activities.”

  “I told you, you need to work out more.”