Vampires Need Not...Apply? (24 page)

She reached for her veil and stopped. Could she do this? Show these people her face? Yes, it was time to move on and turn over a new leaf.

“Go ahead,” said a nice woman with a red sweater and a bright smile. “We are waiting.”

“Okay, here goes.” Ixtab slid off her veil and murmurs of approval erupted from the crowd.

“You see,” said the woman, “that wasn’t so hard. Now was it?”

Ixtab shook her head. “It feels good.” She took in the sensation of being bare and exposed. How would if feel when she showed herself to Antonio? What if he still chose this other woman? “What if he doesn’t want me?” she mumbled.

“Love is always a risk,” said the elderly man. “But a life without love is a life not worth living.”

Wise words.

“All right. Time for me to face him and whatever else awaits.” She stopped. “Oh, and… everyone here now hates alcohol—so you’re free to live a happy life if you choose—and you’ll forget I was ever here. ’Kay?”

The crowd nodded absently with smiles plastered on their faces.

Goddess of Happiness strikes again!

Thirty minutes later, Ixtab arrived back at the estate, but there were no signs of anyone. She’d returned the veil to her head, wanting Antonio to be the first to see her, and right now, it was time to have a chat with Antonio’s father.

Ixtab went upstairs and heard a small rustle coming from the hallway. She followed the noise and saw one of the doors ajar. She pushed on the dark-stained cherrywood, but found the room empty. Empty of people that was.

Ixtab sniffed the air. It was a large study with dust-covered, floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with antique leather-bound books. To one side of the room was a large desk—also made of stained dark wood and equally old as everything else in the study. Yes, though innocent looking enough, darkness stuck to everything.

Ixtab’s eyes roamed the shelves. From the look of the books’ ages, they’d been purchased at the time the estate had been built. She plucked a copy of the
Divine Comedy
off the shelf and thumbed through the pages, then replaced it.
Amateur…

The faint sound of voices shouting began pouring into the room. She spun around and noticed the sounds came from the other side of the bookshelf. She leaned in, realizing there was a hidden room.

The yelling grew louder, and though the voices were muffled, she heard Antonio speaking in Spanish to another man who sounded weak and old.
His father.

“You fucking bastard,” Antonio said. “You can’t do this to us.”

“I can, and I will,” the man replied. “It is the way of our species.”

Species? What the hey?

“You’ve lived more centuries than you can count; perhaps it’s time for el Trauco to die—you wouldn’t be missed by anyone. That I can promise.”

The man laughed. “This coming from a vampire. Why don’t you come and see me in a thousand years and tell me if you’re ready to give up
your
life?”

“I am nothing like you. I would rather die than take the life of my child to survive.”

Ixtab crept away quietly. This was a like an immortal Spanish soap opera. A mystery woman trapped on the other side of the portal? El Trauco—why did that name sound familiar? Antonio’s father’s comment about species? Vegetarian vampires? Okay—that part was more like a Haight-Ashbury immortal soap opera, but still. Could things possibly get any more confusing?

Ixtab went downstairs to her room and dialed Penelope on her cell.

“Ixtab. Thank the gods!” Penelope yelled. “Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”

“I was busy,” she replied.

“You were having sex with him?”

I wish.
“Not that kind of busy,” Ixtab grumbled.

“Oh. Sorry to hear that. Did you at least get him back to work?”

“That won’t be an issue. There’s another problem,” Ixtab said.

“Let me put you on speaker.” There was a pause and then Penelope asked, “There. Can you hear me?”

“Yes.” Ixtab rolled her eyes. “I can hear you…”

“Good. Kinich is with me. We’re listening.”

Where should she start? “Well, first of all, Antonio didn’t go to Spain to run away from me.”

“Oh! That’s great!” Penelope responded.

“He came here because his father is dying.”

“Oh no. That’s horrible.”

“But he hates his father, so he’s not sad about it,” Ixtab added.

“Is that horrible or good? Because it sounds like a little of both,” Penelope said.

“I’m not sure,” Ixtab said, “which is the reason we need to talk.” Pause. “Kinich, are you listening?”

Ixtab heard a rustling in the background and then a “Heeeey!” from Kinich that sounded like someone had taken away his favorite toy.

“Sorry,” said Penelope, “he was kissing my tummy. He’s listening now.”

Resist. Resist hating them for their sickly, sweet cuteness…
“I overheard a conversation between Antonio and his father. They were yelling about him taking the souls of his children, and I most definitely heard the word
species
thrown in there along with the name el Trauco. What the hell is el Trauco?”

There was a long silence before Penelope chimed in. “El Trauco is a mystical creature from Chile that preys on innocent young women and impregnates them.”

“How did you know that?” Ixtab asked.

“I’ve got an iPhone. Hello. Sometimes you deities are so old-school.”

Ixtab pulled her phone from her cheek and stared at the device.
Oh yeah. I guess I could have Wiki’d that. I am pretty lame.

Then her mind began to jam the improbable into place, forcing the pieces of the jigsaw to fit together.
Gasp!
This couldn’t be. This just couldn’t be.
Hate you dramawhore Universe! Hate, hate, hate you!!

Feeling the blood pool to her feet, she scarcely managed to eke out, “I’ll call you later.” Ixtab hung up and flopped faceup on the bed. There was no way! No way!

Yes way.

It was the only explanation that made sense. The darkness, the missing women, the look-alikes, and finally, Antonio’s obsession with the tablet.

Poor, poor Antonio.
All this time,
this
is what he’d been up against? Gods, why hadn’t he told her? And now that she knew, what would she do about it?

First, you need to find out how.
Yes, how? Because never in a million years would Ixtab have seen this coming. It was simply… impossible.

* * *

Ixtab followed the foul stench of death and decay through the house back to study and to what had to be Antonio’s father’s hidden bedroom, or lair as some creepy creatures liked to call it. It reeked of everything in this world she despised—the absence of joy or life—and the malevolent energy was so powerful that it doubled her over the moment she touched the faux bookshelf slash hidden door. Or maybe it was the pain of her past catching up with her. Or perhaps the disappointment she felt, because if her assumptions were true, then Antonio’s arrival into her life had nothing to do with destiny or fate or the Universe giving her another chance. It would simply be the result of a terrible oversight by the gods.

Feeling that her heart might actually burst from sadness, she trembled as her hand gripped the wooden shelf and pulled.
Gods dammit, please don’t be him. Please don’t be him…

The hidden door creaked open and the obscure room, with its thick, black velvet curtains and mahogany furniture, looked more like a dreary tomb.

“Quién es usted?”
The old man, who wore a burgundy bathrobe with gold trim, sat up in his bed.

Ixtab’s heart nearly shriveled up into a ball of despair and anger. Yes, his face was thin and his eyes a dull, hazy gray, but the resemblance to Francisco—and Antonio and Franco, for that matter—was undeniable.

But how? How? On the very godsdamned day she’d finally put the past behind her? On the very day she’d realized she no longer had to be the Goddess of Suicide, but could be something more, something better—the bringer of happiness. Noooo! She refused to believe it. Re. Fused! Why did the Universe insist on punishing her?

Ixtab’s knees began to tremble violently and adrenaline coursed through her humanlike body, making her feel like she might actually explode from the shock.

How…?

“Mind explaining why the hell you’re not dead?” Gods, how she wanted to hurt him. How could this be?

He narrowed his cataract-covered eyes. “I recognize your voice. It is very, very familiar. Who are you?”

“Who am I? Who am I? I’ve spent two hundred years mourning your death, punishing myself for killing you! And you ask, ‘Who am I?’ ” Oh, gods. Now she would never remove the veil. She felt so… so ridiculous!

“Ixtab,” he whispered. “Is that you?”

“You bet your ass it’s me! And how the hell didn’t I know?”

How had he gotten past her radar?

He slowly rose from the bed and wobbled his way toward her. “Please, let me see your face. I’ve dreamt of you for so long.”

“Stop! Just stop! Don’t pull that crap on me! Wait. Maybe I should just kill you. Again!” She reached for him, but he did not move away, causing her to pause.

“Go ahead,” he said. “You would be doing this old incubus a favor.”

Well, in that case, she wouldn’t touch him. There’d be no favors for this despicable, disgusting vile creature. Not today.

“Please, touch me,” he said, his voice sounding like a rickety, old fence. “If I die, I will move on to my next body,”

Ding, ding, ding!!!
Five-alarm goddess bells screamed in her head. “We got rid of your kind centuries ago. How? How is this possible?” she asked.

It had taken the gods a few decades to exterminate the incubi, but they’d done it. So they thought. The key had been finding and destroying the incubi’s portals into the human world—which ironically turned out to be a handful of sulfuric hot springs near present-day Las Vegas.

“How?” the demon cackled. “Obviously I hid. Quite successfully, I might add.”

“Your bodies don’t last,” she argued. Unlike the gods, the soul of a demon is corrosive to their humanlike shells. Over time, they wither away and die. And without their portals, the demons weren’t supposed to make new bodies or be able to travel back to their realm, leaving their souls simply in limbo for all eternity. That had been the plan, anyway.

Unless…
“You found a way to make hosts?” she asked.

He smiled and displayed his brownish-yellow teeth. “More like… offspring. Your sister Cimil was more than willing to help me for the right price. I like her; she’s quite the evil one, isn’t she?”

Cimil? Oh no.
This was bad. Really, really bad. She’d been the one in charge of exterminating the demons to begin with. And what did he mean exactly by “offspring.”

“Are you trying to tell me—”

“Exactly! Francisco, the
original
Francisco, was one of the first. It was fate that I took over his body after you’d fallen in love with him. The way you looked at me with your adoring eyes—I’d never experienced such pleasure and knew I had to have you for my own. No matter how long it took. I am on body number eight, by the way.”

Dirty, rotten bastard took Francisco’s body and pretended to be him? Poor, poor Francisco.
He had been a kind, selfless, purehearted man. He hadn’t deserved to have his life stolen like that.

“For the record,” she spat, “that look of adoration wasn’t meant for you.”

He flicked his wrist in the air. “Are you certain about that? Are you certain a tiny part of you didn’t see me for who I truly was during those few days we were together? Because if I recall correctly, you said you loved me.”

Oh, gods, she had said it. But she’d thought she was talking to Francisco and not some horrible, disgusting demon. Why hadn’t she noticed the change? How could she have been so blind?

Ixtab hit pause to digest what it all meant, then hit a cold, hard wall. Who could possibly make sense of all this? The man she once loved had his body hijacked by an incubus who’d survived the banishment of his race with the help of the deity who was supposed to have killed him: Cimil. Cimil also helped him figure out how to find new bodies to live inside. And to top off Ixtab’s crap fiesta, she now had genuine feelings for another of the demon’s offspring, but Antonio believed he was destined to be with portal woman (species unknown). All the while, they were supposed to be figuring out how to open the portal so they could free Guy and Niccolo in order to prevent the apocalypse—prophesied by Cimil.

Don’t forget, the entire vampire army is on furlough in Euro Disney and we’re sitting ducks until they return.
Which they wouldn’t do until Niccolo was free and able to amend the law.

The entire situation was bizarre and unbelievable enough that only one explanation existed: Cimil. Yes, all sick-and-twisted signs pointed to this being her handiwork.

“Ya. That kooky Cimil.” Ixtab chuckled sarcastically. “She’s a wacky, evil goddess, that one. Always surprising everyone with her fun little pranks. So, what was her wacky price to let you live?”

He smiled again. His tongue was a grayish green. She wanted to yack. “Let’s say I had something she wanted. A useless relic I came across during my travels.”

Relic? He can’t possibly mean…
“It wouldn’t happen to have been a tablet?” It wasn’t a question, but a realization.

“No,” he replied quickly.

“You’re lying, aren’t you?” Demons were notorious liars.

“Yes.”

Crapola.
“And now you’re telling the truth, aren’t you?”

“No.”

Ugh. So frustrating.
“You just lied again, didn’t you?”

He smiled. “Yes.”

How could she have possibly said, “I love you,” to this… horrible, frustrating, icky demon? How? How? How? Oh, gods, she’d never forgive herself. The humiliation would haunt her for another two centuries.

The worst part was how she’d been so judgmental of vampires! She’d actually thought they were icky. But this guy? Hell, there was nothing lower or more disgusting on the planet. She needed to put an end to him.

Vampires rock! Reason number one: they are not incubi.