Accidentally...Cimil?

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  Narmer’s men traded for supplies and set out across the ocean, but eventually, their small vessel sank, the other six men lost at sea. It seemed, however, that the gods had been watching out for the one who survived. When he awoke on the sandy white shores of the strange new land, it was a Mayan woman who found him. He went to their village and discovered they were not great at all, but humble farmers and fishermen.

  “As I thought!” Narmer had said to his man.

  “But my king, I found something else. When I told the Mayans of the band of travelers I sought, they did not know who they were, but they knew of the black jade. One holy man demanded I tell him everything I knew—how the travelers had used the tablet and gotten it to work, from how far in the future theyd come. When I told him I knew nothing, he conjured a great black cloud and wrapped it around my body. I felt fire charring my flesh, and he made me swear to the gods I had told him everything. Then the cloud disappeared.”

  “Most interesting,” said Narmer.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it, my king. Which is why I taught them to make our tools and how to build a small ship with a sail. I have brought the holy man here.”

  “Here?” Narmer asked.

  “Yes, my king. He asks only that we allow him to hear more about his people from the future, what they said, what they wore. Anything. He wants to learn about the magic that brought them here.”

  “They were not from the future. The holy man is mad,” Narmer had said. And he was right. When he met the priest, Mitnal, as he called himself, he looked like a creature from the netherworld. He did not bathe or clean his teeth. He covered himself in the blood of animals and humans. He wore fingers on a string around his neck and smoked strange herbs with a hollow wooden stick. The black cloud his soldier had claimed to have seen must have been the stench. Narmer hoped that showing the madman to the masses—who had been calling for Narmer’s dethronement—would dispel all rumors of Narmer not being the favorite son of the gods.

  Narmer was about to have the man put on display and then publicly executed when he revealed his magic, producing a bit of rain.

  “Where did you learn such powers?” Narmer had asked, but the man simply claimed that his people were born with such gifts, that they were favored by the gods who often came to visit through their portals.

  Naturally, Narmer wondered, What more can this priest request of the gods?

  Narmer bartered with Mitnal for weeks, granting him anything he wished—small boats, gold, women—in exchange for two things: to publicly declare that the Mayans were but simple people with large imaginations and to deliver Narmer a queen, a divine queen—irrefutable evidence of the gods’ favor toward him.

  The first request was easy, but the second was not. Mitnal spent night after night burning strange herbs and talking to the souls of the netherworld. “The souls of the dead,” he’d said, “can tell us the future.” After nearly two moons, Mitnal declared that Narmer’s wish would be granted. A goddess would arrive within days, and Mitnal would provide the powerful magic to capture both her body and her heart.

  Obviously, that particular piece of the plan had not worked out. And now Narmer would make sure the bargain was fulfilled.

  Mitnal dipped his head and flashed a nearly toothless smile. “What assistance do you require, my king? Is all not well with your goddess?”

  “The gods granted my wish, just as you predicted. But this… Cimil, she will not submit to me, and she speaks in odd riddles. I think she might be insane.” He rubbed his chin. Hooker? Bigfoot? What strange words the gods speak. Perhaps these were sacred words, words of power he should inscribe on his tomb. Yes, he would commission a shrine immediately. “In any case, my patience wears thin.”

  Mitnal shrugged. “She is a goddess. Patience will be required to tame her and make her yours.”

  Narmer slammed his fist against the cold stone wall. “She is my goddess now, and she will receive no more patience from me. Can you assist me or not?”

  “I can. But what will you give me in exchange?” Mitnal asked.

  More? He wants more! “What do you desire? More gold? Animals?”

  Mitnal shook his head. “I have more than I can possibly manage to take back to my lands. I desire something else.”

  Narmer felt an odd sensation in his gut, as if giant beetles crawled inside him.

  “I will tell you how to make the goddess submit,” Mitnal said, “but when you have made peace with her and gained her trust, you will tell her about me. You will tell her to trust me.”

  That sounded simple enough. And truth be told, the goddess did not seem like the sort to trust anyone. He could tell her to trust this smarmy holy man, but she would not.

  “Very well. It is a bargain, then. Now tell me how to capture her heart.”

  Mitnal displayed a venomous grin. “Yes. Capture her heart, we shall.”

  Chapter Four

  Thinking leads to bad places. Why can’t I shut it off? I sat on the edge of the bed where I had a clear view of the outside world a few feet away. I don’t know how long I stayed there, but not once in all my years had I taken a breath to truly reflect upon my sixty thousand years of existence and what it all meant.

  I had worked and worked and worked, hopping from one task to the next, making sure that the souls of the dead didn’t hang around too long in the human realm, cluttering up the place and creating a bad vibe. I distracted myself by listening to the dead’s stories, to their regrets, to their triumphs and sadness for the people they left behind.

  Anyhoo, after ushering tens of millions of souls, the years seemed to blend together into one never-ending story like that thing they call a romance series in the future. But I realized that focusing on my work allowed me to neglect my own woes.

  Now I’d taken this forced pause and discovered my life sucked camel balls. I was beyond lonely. I was truly and utterly desolate. I was filled with a gnawing ache deep inside my bones that radiated through every inch of my threadbare soul. If I were to die, there would be no one weeping for the loss. My brethren didn’t weep. They didn’t laugh, either. Come to think of it, they were just as numb to their misery as I was. Which brought me to my second thought: that vision I saw in Narmer’s eyes wasn’t a mere vision; it was sign from the Universe herself. A message.

  Why had she chosen him to deliver it? Who the hell knows?

  What did it mean? Something bad was coming. No. I didn’t mean a remake of Gigli or the return of the mullet.

  The evil I witnessed in his eyes wasn’t the humans tearing apart their planet in a bloody, all-out war or blowing up the world with one of those bomb thingys that I’d heard the dead from ahead speak of. The destruction I saw was us. Us! Yes, as in, the deities. The very gods who were created to protect this world end up destroying it, driven mad.

  Why?

  That was the question. If only I knew. But the Universe had shown me a glimpse of our future, and it was a lonely one.

  “Still sitting there I see?” A deep, masculine voice rumbled against my dark thoughts.

  Narmer.

  He wore a royal-blue sarong, nothing else, and his hair was tied back with a small golden thong. No. I don’t mean underwear. That would be just weird. He’d also shaved off his pharaoh-tee. I normally appreciated men with a little beardage, but he looked clean and fresh and masculine yummy.

  Wait! I know! I hopped up from the bed. “Come here!”

  His broad shoulders and powerful chest seemed to take up the entire chamber. It was unusual to see such a large human, such a tall human, but they did exist. Clearly. And this one was quite possibly the most divine male specimen I’d ever beheld. He was perfect. Right down to his toasty-brown nipples, rippling stomach, and powerful legs.

  I waved him over, but he gave me a look of suspicion.

  “Oh, would you stop that?” I said. “I don’t bite. Much.”

  He walked around the bed and stood in front of me. Well, hello there! I mentally saluted his milk-c
hocolaty nipples and then looked up at his face. “Bend down and look into my eyes.”

  He frowned instead.

  Ugh! “Bend, big boy.” Let’s see what else the Universe has to say. I’m sure she left me another clue inside that thick skull of yours.

  I saw the anger simmering in his eyes, but he obeyed and slowly lowered his gorgeous face, placing us nose to nose.

  I stared deeply into his pupils but only saw what I normally see inside humans: their light and…

  Uh-oh. I pulled away.

  “What?” he asked.

  I stepped back and put on my game face. His light was dull, meaning his end was near. Very, very near. The soul senses such things, and it begins to detach, preparing for the journey ahead.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  Camel crap. I couldn’t tell him he was going to die. Besides, there was nothing I could do. It was dangerous to tinker with the natural course of the Universe.

  “I know! Let’s change subjects!” Better yet, maybe I should try to figure out what the Universe was trying to tell me.

  Narmer crossed his beefy arms over his chest. “I grow weary of your riddles. And why are you no longer angry with me?”

  “I found something more important to do: I am trying to have an epiphany. A big, big aha moment.”

  “I do not know these words,” he said.

  “No. Of course you don’t. Because you’re not a goddess with mysterious, all-knowing powers, like me.” And if those failed, there was always disco dancing to help me relax so the “all-knowing” might come. Gods, I can’t wait for the seventies! Looks like so much fun! In these times, the humans’ idea of a celebration consisted of killing something large, roasting it on a fire, and getting hammered on fermented fruit juice. Lame. I wanted disco balls; really, really big shoes; and wah-wah-wah music.

  “Stop!” Narmer barked. “I command you!”

  I froze in midlighting finger and turned. “You’re ruining my concentration.”

  He closed the gap between us and grabbed me by the shoulders. I was about to release a surge of light into his hands simply for the sheer joy of watching him shoot across the room and slam into the wall, but then I remembered the stupid collar. I was dead in the water.

  “I came to tell you something,” he said.

  “You may speak.”

  I could have sworn I saw actual sparks shoot from his eyes. Probably no one had ever told him anything other than, “Yes, my king” or “No, my king” and “Your wish is my command, my king.” Well, soon he’d be just another soul wondering why he had wasted his life on silly things like wealth and power.

  And why the hell he’d messed with me!

  He closed his eyes and took a breath, clamping down whatever bull crap he had the urge to say. When his dark eyes opened again, he tilted his head and placed his hand on my cheek. There was flicker of something almost… endearing within them.

  “I came to tell you that I am sorry.” His jaw muscles ticked as he ground his teeth. “I am sorry for treating you so rudely.”

  Wow. Looks like that hurt! “Are you okay? Should I make you a pot of soothing chamomile tea or call for a healer?”

  His eyes shifted a bit. “I am very well. Why do you ask?”

  Because you look like you just dropped an egg and have the worst PMS ever. “I’m guessing that apologizing, especially to a lowly female, bruised that giant ego of yours. But I’m glad to see you survived. Good stuff. Now, let me go. I have a planet to rescue.”

  His face turned bright red. “I will not release you until you take the vow.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Back to square one, are we?”

  He didn’t respond.

  Ugh! “A square is one of those shapes that has four—”

  “I know what a square is,” he interrupted. “But I do not understand your expression.”

  “Square one is the place where you started—Oh! Never mind, Chucky,” I said. “What I meant was that you are infuriating! You thought you could come in here, make an apology—wow! Such a huge sacrifice—and win me over with that? Really, big boy? You’ve taken me prisoner. You put this collar around my neck like I’m some sort of pet, and you’ve neutralized my powers. Do you really think an apology is going to—”

  He bent his head and kissed me hard.

  My entire body lit up like a bonfire, and the heat from his bare chest enveloped me in a steamy wave of lust. My knees buckled, and he immediately wrapped me in his large arms, pulling me close to prevent me from sliding down to the floor where I conjectured I might end up a squishy little puddle of fluttering nerves and unflattering spasms of joy.

  And for a moment, I swore our bodies melted together. I’d never felt anything so potent. That dark, empty space inside my chest began to glow like a warm ember, and the only thing I could think of was stripping away my tiny little top and skirt. I wanted to feel his heavy body slip and slide over mine as his hands and mouth roamed every inch of my—

  I pushed away and slapped him. Hard.

  Rage flickered in his eyes. “What in the gods’ name was that?”

  In my name? In my name? I huffed and then poked him. “No! You tell me what that was!”

  “That was called a kiss.”

  “Well—well, I know that! But where do you get off kissing me like that? All wet and…” Dammit, that was a hot kiss. Is this what I’ve been missing out on?

  The pharaoh quirked a brow. “And what?”

  I crossed my arms and looked away. Yummy. It was yummy. “Horrible. Worst kiss I’ve ever had. Were you taught by a camel?”

  “A camel?” he roared. “I will show you a camel.”

  The pharaoh reached for me, but I hopped away. “Oh no, you don’t! I don’t want any of those sloppy humpbacked desert mammal kisses. And you smell like one, too!” He actually smelled delicious, like exotic oils and spices, but the insult felt like a winner, so I went with it.

  He chased me around the room. I leaped onto the bed and almost made it to the other side, but his hand snagged my ankle and jerked me back. I lost my footing and fell, flopping onto the bed facedown. He immediately jumped onto my back, pinning my hands above my head, straddling me.

  “Let go of me!” I squirmed, but he was much, much larger, and I, powerless without my… um… powers.

  “No. Not until you submit.”

  “Never!” I screamed.

  “Then I shall never let you go,” he growled.

  Stubborn man! I growled back.

  He growled again.

  I meowed.

  He…

  … Burst out laughing.

  * * *

  Infectious. I’d never heard such a beautifully deep, masculine laugh. Its uninhibited joy sank into my bones and hummed inside my head. It inspired visions of unicorns and rainbows—the natural kind. Not the ones Minky made, which were colorful but not without a strange odor. Anyway, his laugh was pure… loveliness.

  He rolled off me onto his back, laughing with such ferocity that he could barely breathe. I sat up and watched him, unable to help myself from smiling. He went on and on, like a man who’d not laughed in decades and the dam had finally burst.

  “If I’d known the secret to removing that stick from your ass was meowing, I would have started a week ago,” I said. “Pinned a tail to my skirt, too.”

  Tiny tears trickled from the corners of his dark eyes. Thank goodness he didn’t wear his ceremonial manliner; otherwise, he’d be a complete mess.

  He whisked the tears away, sat up, and looked at me. Not just looked, but beamed. “You are a most peculiar goddess.”

  “You are one batshit crazy pharaoh. And while we’re on the subject, exactly why were you laughing?”

  He scratched his clean-shaven chin. “I suppose it’s the absurdity of the situation. I have spent my entire life on the throne, ruling the people, trusting that the divine blood in my veins would guide me.”

  Should I tell him he doesn’t have any divine blood? Ma
ny cultures believed their rulers were descendants of the gods and therefore had the right to rule, but the truth was that they were just normal humans who’d been born at the right time to the right family. Nahh… let him live his dream.

  “However,” he continued, “nothing could have prepared me for this—for you.” He reached out and ran his finger along my jaw. “Such a wild creature.”

  I couldn’t stop it from happening. I couldn’t. Like he’d been deprived of laughter, I’d been deprived of affection. I’d do just about anything to feel that sensation again, the sensation of being whole. When he’d kissed me, that dark, hollow pit deep inside my chest had filled with something wonderful, something joyous. He was the light inside that dark, damp, wet, and dreary cave I called my heart. I wanted more.

  “Kiss me again,” I commanded.

  His smile melted away and was replaced by a look of raw, carnal hunger. He stared into my eyes as he leaned over and lightly pressed his lips to mine. He slipped his tongue inside and stroked me gently. The warmth of his mouth flooded my face, neck, and chest, eventually making its way deep down inside. For the first time ever, the gears in the old girlie factory started to turn and my female bits ignited.

  I jumped on top and straddled his body, kissing him with shameless neediness. I ran my hands over his chest, indulging my urge to worship his masculine form—hard and soft, all in one package.

  Speaking of package…

  His large shaft lengthened and hardened against my now tingly womanly parts. I moaned. The heat of him felt so sinfully delicious.

  He ran his large hands over my breasts. I knew their size and shape would please him; mortal males could never resist gazing at them. Normally, I thought that was silly, but now, knowing my human form excited him, it pleased me.

  His hands made their way down to my bare midriff where he gripped firmly and began rocking me in time to the rhythm of his own hips.