Accidentally in Love With a God (2012)

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  “Ha! See!” I pointed at his face. “That just proves this isn’t real. Why would anyone want me? Me! I mean…if anyone thinks this”—I waved my hand down the front of my body—“is anything worth stalking, they’re off their frigging rockers.”

  A wicked little glow flickered in Guy’s eyes then faded. “I am not certain why they want you,” he answered, “but the insane do not need a good reason, Emma. The Maaskab are known to kill just for sport. They single-handedly brought down the entire Mayan civilization with their bloodlust.”

  “Thanks. I thought the Mayan alien abduction theory I’d read on the Internet sounded crazy. This makes waaay more sense.”

  “It’s not a joke, Emma. These priests are deadly. They are the reason I came: to wipe them out once and for all. And now, I’ve come to the conclusion they’ve been getting help from a traitor, one of my own. There’s simply no other explanation for their power, their ability to use dark energy, including trapping me for seven decades.”

  A shiver ran down my spine telling me, perhaps, this was real and not a dream. My pounding heart sure felt authentic. Christ, I just wished someone would start filling me on all of the other important details.

  “Who’s your own?” I asked.

  “There’s only one solution now,” he mumbled to himself, then turned to grab my shoulders. “Emma, I have to go.”

  Wasn’t this ironic? He wanted to leave, and now I didn’t want him to. Kick me. “What are you going to do with me?”

  “I’m going to call some people who will take you somewhere safe until I can come for you.”

  “How long?” I asked.

  “I do not know, my sweet.” He stared with his hypnotic, turquoise eyes and then brushed my cheek. “But you have to promise you won’t call anyone you know, and if anything happens, you can’t ever come back here. You can’t go home, either. Do you understand?”

  “No.” I felt the tears welling. All I wanted was normal. Friends, a great job, a boyfriend, maybe a little house with a vegetable garden. Normal.

  What did I get? Bloodthirsty Mayan priests. A menacing, half-naked, skirt-wearing “man.” Living on the run. Forever. Not frigging normal!

  Guy’s face contorted as he watched me begin to cry. “Emma, don't do that.”

  I punched him in the arm. “Don’t. I can’t help it! You’ve so fucked up my life. I’m never going to forgive you, and—”

  “What? I’m trying to save your life, woman.”

  “Then don’t leave without telling me.”

  “Telling you what?”

  “Everything! You owe me!” I felt the walls of my sanity crumbling.

  “Yes, goddammit! I do owe you. And that means fulfilling my oath to keep you safe until this is over.”

  “Oath? Wait…You’re not going to tell me, are you? You’ve been living in my head, torturing me with your enormous ego, driving me insane with your jealousy! Then, I apparently risked my neck to free you. But what about the truth? You promised me answers! You said you’d help me find out what happened to my grandmother!”

  Guy’s eyes narrowed. “Right now, there are bigger issues at hand—your irritating, little human life being one of them.”

  I slapped him hard across the cheek.

  A devilish smile crawled over his face. He chuckled. “And, lucky for me, I don’t answer to little girls, even ones who save me from cenotes. But if you do that again, I’ll happy to bend you over my knee and spank you.”

  Well. That did it. “Effing try it, Neanderthal. I’ll give your man-nuggets another taste of my knee!” I gave him an ineffective push.

  Guy grabbed both my arms. A numbing shock rocketed down my spine, causing my knees to buckle.

  Oops. I’d forgotten about that.

  He lifted me by the shoulders into the air.

  Then a grumble came from Rosa’s throat. “Will you two stop this childish flirting.”

  Flirting? On what planet was this considered flirting? Maybe on Guy’s planet. He had called me human, implying that he was not?

  He released me, and I shook off the buzzing. “The only place I’m going is away from this troll.”

  I turned toward the door to find Arturo blocking my way.

  Astonishing.

  “Seriously?” I scowled. “Now you’re on his side? He threatened to snap your wife’s neck two minutes ago.”

  “He doesn’t frighten me.” Arturo looked at Guy. “You are welcome to leave the half-breed with us. We have family a few hours north and can hide her there.”

  “Half-breed?” I felt the searing vibration of Guy standing directly behind me, but before I could turn, he’d grabbed my waist.

  “I’m sorry, my sweet,” he whispered in my ear. “But I made a vow, and the gods do not look kindly on oath-breakers.” A jolt of pain ran through my body.

  Chapter FIFTEEN

  Gazing affectionately at Emma’s serene face, Guy cradled her limp flushed body for several moments before concluding the shock was sufficient.

  He didn’t like using this power, especially given how in the past he’d miscalculated and killed a few unlucky people. Sure, they were deserving of death, and centuries had passed since his last slip-up, but nevertheless, it was a crude and dangerous way to gain compliance.

  Bloody foolish woman. Why does she never listen to me? Well, he had to do something to get her away from Bacalar.

  He gently set Emma down on the dirt floor, propping her in the corner, planting a tiny kiss on her forehead before turning to the elderly couple who stared. His presence, to those who knew who and what he was, was never too welcome. These two were descendants from Petén’s village and, therefore, wary of his kind.

  “I need a phone,” he said.

  Señor Arturo reached into his pocket and handed Guy a thin, flat, square device with glowing numbered buttons. Guy studied the object, scratching his thick black stubble with his free hand. The last phone he’d seen, with its large black hand-piece and numbered rotary mechanism, was in the 1940’s. Sure, during his time with Emma he heard about cell phones and other such modern devices, but that didn’t mean he knew how to use them or what they looked like. For the first time ever, Guy felt old.

  More weakness, he grumbled in his head.

  “How do I use it?” He shoved the phone toward Rosa who gave a quick demonstration.

  Okay, one down. Next: computers, the Internet, and a Porsche 911 GT2. Emma had told him all about the new cars. He couldn’t wait.

  He dialed, hoping the ancient code might still be the phone number—it was. Speaking in Greek, he gave a few instructions to the person who’d answered, and then hung up. “My Uchben have a team three hours from here by plane.”

  “The Uchben? They’re coming here?” Arturo said nervously.

  Guy nodded. “Who else?”

  “It’s that—we thought they were mythological creatures.”

  The Uchben were hardly in the same category as the Loch Ness Monster, or Big Foot; although, they were practically their own race and their society was equally as old. But, regardless of their archaic traditions or military style governance, they were the human embodiment of cultural refinement and enlightenment. They had their own language, religion, schools, and judicial system.

  The Uchben’s original function was to serve as human muscle, an army of sorts, for the more complex and sometimes violent situations that popped up from time to time. But as their trustworthiness grew over the centuries, the Uchben’s role expanded. Since the beginning of the last century, they invested and managed the gods’ assets and acted as eyes and ears in the human world. Regardless of what human’s believed, gods were not omnipresent, though they could view just about any one spot in the world at any given time.

  So what was in it for the Uchben to be the gods’ loyal servants? They possessed knowledge no other humans had, their people had inconceivable wealth, and most of all, they had powerful allies. Because of this, their loyalty was fierce, borderline fanatic.

&nb
sp; Arturo flashed a glance at Emma’s incapacitated body. “What are you going to do to the girl?”

  He shrugged. “Protect her.”

  “Just like your brother protects the women he uses?”

  It disturbed Guy beyond belief that anyone believed he’d hurt Emma. Not possible. It was worse, however, to think one of his own had been harming innocent women. But Guy was a product of his environment and the rules of his kind. Meaning, he would never believe such an accusation without proof.

  The small phone vibrated in Guy’s hand. We wait outside. Your efforts will be rewarded, flashed across the tiny screen.

  These bastards tipped off the Maaskab? Rage filled every square inch of Guy’s human-like body. “Have I ever told you how much I enjoy punishing the wicked?”

  Panic flashed in Arturo’s eyes as he looked at the phone. “You are all demons! We are just trying to survive. They have been curing Rosa with their magic.”

  Arturo’s words suddenly clicked in Guy’s head. The priests had already been “healing” Rosa. “You helped them get their hands on Gabriela, didn’t you?”

  Arturo nodded yes. No hint of remorse. No hint of shame. “The Maaskab named their price, so we tracked her down. Gabriela was eager to meet the dying sister she never knew she had. And when we made it clear to Gabriela that letting anyone know where she was going would put her family at risk, she didn’t question.”

  Fury bolted through Guy. “So you let them kill her!” He wanted to hurt the man, to punish him slowly.

  His age, instead of buying him leniency, only made him more culpable. Older humans should know better. “You lured her here, took advantage of her goodness. All to save your wicked wife. I hope the pain you’re about to feel is wrenching your soul out by the roots, though, it’s not a fraction of what you deserve.”

  He wasn’t only thinking about Gabriela and Emma’s suffering, he was speaking of his own. Those many months ago, when Gabriela went missing, Guy’s world went from a lukewarm torture—the only light being Emma—to a living hell. He’d sensed the moment something had happened; her fear and despair vibrated through the earth and pooled in the pit of his stomach. He’d prayed night and day, pushing with his mind, pleading with his brothers and sister to save her. They were, after all, compelled to protect her because of the bond. But he hadn’t heard from them since he’d come through the portal some seventy years ago. Why? He didn’t know. Perhaps they’d turned on him? Or, they simply didn’t know where he was? In any case, he was helpless as Gabriela’s anguished light slipped away, taking with it the piece of his own which was bound to her. Emptiness took its place, an emptiness magnified by the pain he sensed from Emma, who carried Gabriela’s light, her blood.

  “And I suppose Emma was going to be just another payment to the Maaskab? Is that right, you vile little human?! Tell me now, how many are outside?” Guy asked.

  Arturo glanced at Rosa only for a moment. “Three, but more are coming. I hope they take your head and send you back to that cenote.” He flashed another glance at Emma. “Stupid girl deserves to die for setting you free. You devil!”

  Guy grabbed the man by the collar, lifted him to meet his eyes, and took one last look.

  Gray. The light inside his eyes were gray. Only one step above black. “I only regret not having time to make you truly suffer, old man.”

  And with that, Guy snapped Arturo’s neck.

  Rosa screamed and ran for the door. With lightning speed, he reached her, and with a small motion, snapped her neck, too. She slipped to the floor.

  Guy quickly rifled through the small two-room cabaña, searching for weapons. He didn’t plan to fight the Maaskab because it would be too easy for Emma to get in the way, but he’d be a fool to leave unarmed. Sadly, he only found a few large kitchen knives.

  “Let’s hope I’m faster than they are.” He flung Emma over his shoulder and leaped from the side window.

  Chapter SIXTEEN

  I woke with a painful, sooty fog rolling through my head, close to what one might expect if they’d sipped tequila mixed with animal tranquilizers. With the accompanying blurriness and the buzzing in my head turned up ten notches, it took several minutes to realize I was somewhere far from the muggy jungles of Mexico.

  The bed I lay in was a luxurious, fluffy oasis of down pillows and comforters. The open room was the size of a small country, decorated with red Saltillo tile floors, brightly colored pre-Hispanic paintings, and an entire wall of books. There was even a small sitting area with a soft brown leather couch and a coffee table displaying a stack of fashion magazines.

  Where the heck was I? Where was Guy?

  The haze of early daylight filtered through the sheer white curtains at the far side of the room. I sluggishly pushed myself from bed and trudged over, pulling back the cloth panels to find two French doors that opened onto a balcony.

  My heart stopped. Lush, rolling green hills covered in miles of vines heavy with ripe grapes? My dream. This can’t be right. I’m dead? Or, in a coma again?

  I stepped onto the balcony. “No!” I covered my mouth.

  It was the exact same villa, right down to the red and pink bougainvillea winding up and around the arched windows. But I wasn’t dead. I could smell the earthiness of the vineyard in the wind. I could hear the distant hum of an airplane. This was real.

  I stumbled back inside, massaging my temples. The buzzing was almost unbearable.

  “Going somewhere?” A well groomed, disturbingly handsome man, not older than thirty, stood near the doorway, arms folded. He was dressed in a tailored black suit and deep purple shirt. He wore his short black hair stylishly messy. His golden eyes sparkled with a vibrant energy against his light olive skin as he onced—no wait—twiced? Wow. Thriced me over.

  I shuddered, realizing he wasn’t your average six-foot two, pretty boy; he’d come accessorized with a lethal vibe. Great. More dangerous men.

  Well, as the wise band Keane—loved their name, by the way—once said, “When your back’s against the wall, that’s when you show no fear at all.”

  “Where the hell am I?” I said in my best tough-girl tone.

  “You are in Barolo,” he said with an accent. Spanish, perhaps?

  “Barolo?”

  “Italy. You are in Italy.” He didn’t roll his eyes, but I could tell he sure wanted to.

  “Yeah. So sorry I didn’t have time to brush up on my geography before I was abducted. Silly American. Who the hell are you?”

  He made a slight bow of the head, “I am Tommaso. I’ve been asked to keep an eye on you during your stay.”

  I rubbed the back of my stiff neck. “Well, Tommaso, how long have I been in Barolo?”

  “I brought you here last night on Mr. Santiago’s private plane.”

  “Mr. Santiago? You mean Guy?”

  He nodded.

  Guy had a private plane. No clothes, but he had a plane. Okay. “And this place? Is it his?” I asked.

  Again, Tommaso nodded.

  Christ. My coma-heaven was Guy’s Italian villa? Considering how much I hated him, that was a bit of a buzz kill. Now I’d have to come up with a whole new heaven when I died.

  But how had I envisioned it so clearly? Even if he’d described it to me once without my remembering, it didn’t make an ounce of logic that I’d dream with such precision. Maybe he and I were more deeply connected that I knew. “And that bastard didn’t come with me, did he?”

  He shook his head “no.”

  “How about a note mentioning my grandmother?”

  “No. Sorry.”

  It was official. I really, truly hated Guy. Aside from using my grandmother’s disappearance to get me to free him, ruining my life, lying to me, and almost getting me killed in the cenote, he’d also messed with my hormones, told me I was in danger from some god-awful witchdoctors, knocked me out, and then dumped me with Dr. Evil’s handsome twin?

  If I ever saw Guy again, I’d castrate the beast with a dull knife or perhaps a spoon. I
’d keep his villa. “Where the hell is he?”

  He smiled, but in a condescending way. “He warned us that you’d ask too many questions.”

  “Well, duh. I was taken against my will to a foreign country and just lived through the most traumatic event of my life.” The fog was still sticking in my head, and the humming of the other voices was louder than ever. I began feeling dizzy.

  Tommaso rushed to my side frightfully fast, grabbing my arm to move me to the couch. “Let me help you.”

  His powerful grip pinched. I was about to yelp but decided a gasp was more appropriate; some pervert had dressed me in a flimsy white nightgown. Quite see-through.

  “Ohmygod.” I quickly sat and covered my chest with my arms. “Did you put me in this?”

  “No,” he said flatly. “The men got to draw straws. I lost.”

  I snapped my head up in his direction; he was hovering over me, arms crossed again. It was apparently easier to keep the huge stick up his ass that way.

  “Don’t worry. You were well supervised,” he said with a suggestive edge.

  Knife. Gun. Atomic bomb. These men were going to die a slow painful death if I had anything to do with it.

  “I want real clothes, and I’ll dress myself.”

  Tommaso bowed his head. “I’ll have some brought immediately. And if there’s anything else you need—”

  “A phone.” My parents, who’d been expecting me to call, would have contacted the hotel by now and found out I hadn’t checked in. They’d be beyond panicked, especially considering our history with disappearing family members.

  “Sorry, no calls. Mr. Santiago said you’d just get yourself deeper in trouble.”

  Crap. Of all possible scenarios, this was the one I’d feared the most: becoming Guy’s prisoner. I couldn’t let this happen. I couldn’t. I decided to throw a little-girl-in-distress Tommaso’s way to see if that got me anywhere.

  “Me? Did he happen to mention all of horrific, deceitful things he’s done to me? Or, how he’s almost gotten me killed twice? Did he tell you that he’s haunted me my entire life, nearly driving me insane?”