Vampires Need Not...Apply? (12 page)

“I heard screaming from upstairs.” Viktor rounded the corner, panting. “What’s going on? Does the fucking drama ever stop around here?”

Julie chuckled. “Kinich bit Penelope and got a dose of sunshine. Now she’s giving him a dose of her mind.”

Viktor smiled, pulled Julie into his arms, and bent over to lavish her neck with kisses. “This is excellent news, my love. I adore happy endings.”

“Oh. Me, too,” she said with a breathy voice. “Did I tell you that ex-angels specialize in the art of happy endings? My tongue is really—”

Ick. Ick. Ick. Vampire love. Ick.

Number six: watching vampires kiss is like watching two corpses make out.

“Sorry to interrupt your ewy-gooey undead moment, but how’s Antonio?” Ixtab asked.

The shift in Viktor’s eyes from sky to navy blue said it all: not good.

“Christ. Is he dead?” Ixtab asked. “I mean, I know he’s dead—or undead—whatever—but is something wrong? Shouldn’t he be awake?”

The look on his face told her that he hadn’t a clue. Once again, Ixtab’s own darkness filled her cells. Why did the thought of Antonio not surviving affect her so strongly?

Because we need him to open the portal and save your other stupid brother and Helena’s ex–vampire hubby so we can kick the Maaskab’s rear ends once and for all.

Yes. That must be it.

“I don’t want to give you false hope, but I believe Antonio still has a chance,” Viktor said. “I do not see any signs of true death.”

Julie squinted at Ixtab as if trying to see behind her veil. “You okay, honey?” She reached for Ixtab, but Viktor swatted her hand away.

“Do not touch her. Ever. She is poison, my love,” he said.

“Viktor, honey,” Julie protested, “that was very rude. Besides, I saw her without the veil, and she’s really—”

“No,” Ixtab interrupted, “it’s true. I am poison. I’m a monster. You shouldn’t ever touch me.” Ixtab held out her hands to drive the point home. Her skin was gray.
Disgusting.

She turned toward the stairwell. “I need to go out for a few hours. Call me if there’s any news of Antonio.”

* * *

Antonio felt a burning sensation in his eyes. Fire. They were on fire! As was his entire body. He rolled to his side in agony and landed on the hard floor with a thump. The bright light above blinded him.
Wait. I can feel my… eyes?

He jumped to his feet and slammed his back against the wall, his head whipping from side to side. He was in his bedroom. “
Caray.
I can see.”

Not only that, but he could hear and smell and feel the tiniest of vibrations in the air. He ran to the window and threw it open. “
Sí!
I can see!” He sucked in a lung-full of cool evening air. He tasted the city on his tongue—hot dogs roasting on the corner, the rose-scented perfume of a woman walking her dog nineteen stories below on the sidewalk, a couple sipping hot chocolate in the park just across the way.

“I’m back. I’m fucking back!” he bellowed from the window.

And I’m hungry. Really damned hungry.
And what the hell was that exquisite smell? He breathed deeply. Ocean. Car fumes. A bakery. Garbage. And…

Vanilla laced with daisies.

His eyes scanned the sidewalk below. This was pure amazing. Even in the waning sunlight, he saw the faces of pedestrians and…

Vanilla and daisies.
Yes. The smell radiated from the woman who’d just turned the corner out of sight.
“Mierda!”

He scrambled into his closet, threw on a pair of jeans, boots, and a black sweater. Not that he felt cold. No. He felt fucking brilliant!

Heart racing, he fled from his apartment and down the stairwell. Each step he took, he luxuriated in the fluidity and strength of his body. He moved like the wind on steroids. His body felt invincible and strong and larger than life all at once.

What the hell was going on? He vaguely remembered the bizarre dream of the woman and the strange conversation of the man with the deep voice who spoke of vampires.

Almost to the ground floor, Antonio stopped in the stairwell. “No. Hell no. I’m a vampire?” He inspected his hands and rubbed his face and neck. His skin felt tingly and alive. He didn’t feel dead.

He placed his right hand over his heart. There was nothing.

“Diablos!”
He jumped back to escape his own chest. “What the hell?” He began recalling his neighbor, the one who attacked him and sliced through his neck. Antonio rubbed the spot, but there was no trace of any injury. His memories then flashed to the woman who’d been at his side as he bled. She was the same woman—vanilla and daisies—who’d come to the hospital and touched him. His heart jolted to life and began to thump like a team of galloping horses in his chest. The overwhelming urge to find her washed over him.

“What the hell are you waiting for?” No matter how absurd the situation, the one thing he knew, the
only
thing he knew, was that he needed to find her. He had prayed for his vision to return if only to see her face. The face of an angel. She had to be because she’d saved his life. Twice.

He raced through the lobby, out the front door of the building. He moved with such speed that the…
humans? Caray.
Was he truly calling them humans now? As if they were something altogether different and his brain had already accepted a concept his erratically beating heart had not.

He rounded the corner and caught her scent. A sharp pain jabbed at his gums and the coppery tang of blood coated his tongue.

Holy Santa Maria! No puede ser.
He put his hands over his mouth.
It can’t be.
He’d popped out a fang! A
pinche
fang, like a
pinche perro
! Two of them! Not only that, but Antonio began to salivate, too. He’d never smelled anything sweeter than that scent of daisies.

His new razor-sharp vision—
you mean, fang-sharp vision, don’t you?
—caught the inky blur of black cloth slipping into an alley. He rushed to the mouth of the backstreet and was about to announce his presence when he spotted the woman cloaked in its shadows. She lifted a tabby, much like his beloved cat Simon, and held it to her chest as she spoke to it. “There’s a good kitty. That’s right…”

He smiled inwardly; she, too, loved animals. The woman must have been very distraught after killing his cat.
An honest mistake, no doubt. Because surely such an angel would never kill an innocent creature on purpose.

He poked his head around the corner once again, but she’d disappeared.

Confused, Antonio slipped into the alley. His sensitive ears picked up every sound, but there were none to be heard; it was as quiet as a library on Friday night. Slowly, he moved through the garbage-strewn passage. Large Dumpsters marked every dark doorway, and empty wooden pallets were heaped in random piles. Antonio then noticed the alleyway hooked right and connected to another long side street with an outlet. As he followed along, the eerie silence chilled his bones, but what he witnessed next chilled his heart.

Several rats lay twitching on the ground alongside the orange cat—dead orange cat with half a rat sticking from its mouth, like it had choked on the thing. A man, wedged in the corner between the wall and a large green Dumpster, lay with a shard of jagged glass sticking from his throat. The smell of blood filled the air.

Antonio approached the man who wore dirty black jeans and mud-caked boots. His army-green jacket smelled of something odd, some sort of burned material.
Chemicals?
Drugs perhaps. But his blood…

Antonio cupped his hands over his salivating mouth. “No. You are vegetarian. You do not believe in killing for your food.”

He crouched in front of the man. “Who did this to you? Hold still, I will call for an ambulance.” Antonio reached in his pocket. No cell phone.
Diablo.
“I’ll be right back.”

The man gurgled, “The woman.” He pointed down the alley and promptly expired.

No. His beauty? His vanilla-and-daisies angel? She did this? She killed these poor animals and this man?
Impossible.

Antonio followed the trail of her scent to another alley ten blocks away. The sounds of the city—cabs, horns honking, pedestrians talking on their phones—roared in his ears. Headlights blazed down the street like shooting stars. Everything felt exaggerated—brighter, louder, the smells much more potent.

He approached the alley cautiously and peered around the corner. Death. It smelled like death mixed with that sweet perfume. Suddenly, he saw a shadow moving toward him. He ducked into a doorway as she passed by in a…
Morticia Addams costume? What the hell?
“Who
are
you?” he said more as a criticism rather than a question.

“Shit.” The woman turned. She froze and held her hand to her veiled face. “Oh my gods, is it really… you?”

Who did you expect? Cousin It?
“Who the hell are you?” he asked again.

The woman took another step forward, and he instinctively wanted to bolt. Something about her terrified him, disgusted him.

Her hands, reeking of death, reached for him. He pushed himself flatter against the wall. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Of course. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Her arms fell to her side, and there was a long moment of silence as they studied each other.

What was she? Why did she wear that awful veil over her face? And why did he feel the strangest urge to touch her.

“You shouldn’t be out alone,” she finally said. “Not on your first night.”

“Who are y—”

Her phone rang—
the Death March
?

“Hold that thought.” She held up her index finger and then dug through her brightly colored purse to retrieve her cell.

“I bet you’re missing someone,” she said to the other person.

Antonio heard every word coming over the earpiece as if he himself held the device. The voice was one he recognized—the man from his dream. The one who did not want to make him a…
vampire
.

The cold, hard pieces of his new reality clicked into place. He really was a vampire, which meant… everything was ruined! His plans to decipher the tablet and open the portal, to save his brother, his plans for his own freedom. Yes, he had thought he was fucked when he’d lost his sight, but now he was irrevocably screwed. There was absolutely no hope. He’d become the one thing he vowed he’d never be: a killer like his father. “You did this to me, didn’t you?” He scowled.

The woman’s veiled head lifted, and he knew she was looking at him. Hell, it felt like she was staring right through him.

“I’ll make sure he gets back. Bye.” She ended her call and dropped the phone in her bag. “Yes. I had Viktor turn you, but there was no other choice.”

She’d had him turned into a monster. A vampire for fuck sake! This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be! She’d destroyed his life.
Caray!

“There was another choice!” he yelled. “Death! And trust me, that would have been better.”

“You don’t understand—”

“Do you have any…
any
idea what you’ve done? Do you?
You
are a demon from hell! You’ve single-handedly destroyed my life, everything that I care about! Everything, goddammit!”

Wanting to shake her by the shoulders for what she’d done, he reached for her, but she jumped back.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t ever touch me!” she reprimanded.

She had said the same thing that time he’d run into her by the elevator in his building. She’d told him that he disgusted her.

He stepped back and held up his palms. Blinding, raging fury engulfed him. He needed to get away from her before he did something he regretted.

He turned and ran as fast as his new vampire feet could carry him.

Penelope pounded and pounded and pounded until her fists were raw with blisters. Kinich simply stood there and took it. So many hours and days she’d wept and cried over losing him, over his not loving her enough to overcome his urge to drink her blood, but she hadn’t wept nearly enough. Now those bottled emotions came gushing out like an unstoppable tsunami.

After a few minutes, she lowered her head to Kinich’s chest and released one final sob before fisting his charred white T-shirt and wiping her eyes.

“Are you done now, my sweet?” he asked.

She felt a strong hand run down the back of her head and trail down her neck.

“Yeah, I think so.” She sniffled.

“Good.” Kinich scooped her up and deposited her recklessly on the bed.

“I’ll be right back.”

Before she protested, he was gone. “Hey! Where are you going?”

She heard the refrigerator open and then slam shut. He went for a snack? Right in the middle of her epic meltdown? Dammit. She wasn’t done yet. And he had this coming. No, it wasn’t his fault that Zac had put the temptation whammy on him, but Kinich had done plenty of other pigheaded crap to deserve a good tongue-lashing. For starters, he’d made a risky plan that involved rolling the dice with Roberto the Ancient One, which landed Kinich in Vampire Land. Then he’d refused to see her, to trust her, when she’d known in her heart they were meant to be. All the while, she’d been left alone with Zac to rule the gods. And pregnant! And trying to stop the end of the world!

I mean… seriously!

Penelope marched from the bedroom, through the living room—
yikes, someone really needs to talk to Helena about these decorations. Gloomy much?
—to the kitchen, where she found Kinich, shirtless (
oops, guess I ruined it with all those fireballs
), wearing only his drawstring pajama bottoms, chugging.

Penelope swallowed hard and took in the heavenly vision of the behemoth male standing before her. Nearly seven feet of pure, hard, immortal muscle, with smooth, slightly golden skin—nowhere near as tanned as before, but nevertheless completely yummy—endless ripples of abs, biceps flexing as he tilted his mouth up, drinking from a plastic pouch.

She would just pretend he sipped punch and allow him to continue because right before her eyes, Kinich’s body filled out, the bruises on his glorious broad back fading into nothing. His caramel-brown hair returned to its full, glorious length, filled with those streaks of gold she loved so much.