Vampires Need Not...Apply? (6 page)

Now that’s where she drew the line with nature. Didn’t he have any junk food?
Fruit, yogurt, soy cheese—ick, and… hmmm, okay. Beer.
She grabbed one and popped off the top.

Ummm.
At least he had good taste in something.

She chugged the rich, creamy contents and dumped the bottle into the stainless steel sink. She wandered down the hallway, also bare of any personal effects—not a painting, photo, or tchotchke to be found in the entire place. She found his bedroom and stood in the doorway, staring longingly at the empty, unmade bed. She imagined Francisco lying there, beckoning her to come to him.

Dammit! You’re being ridiculous. You know this man is not your departed soul mate.
Nevertheless, as ludicrous as it might be, she couldn’t help but want proof, anything to cement her squarely in the jaws of reality and smother her ridiculous fantasy that this man might actually be his reincarnation.
A second chance…

Ixtab sat down on the bed and ran her hand over the soft, gray, satin pillow. The man’s head had rested there. Would he smell like Francisco? That sweet, spicy, masculine smell she’d become addicted to? That she missed so much?

She lifted the pillow to her nose. “Cheap perfume,” Ixtab growled and threw it down. She pulled open the top nightstand drawer and stared in bewilderment at the pile of condoms inside. “XXL. For the all-night lover?” she said.
A whole drawer full of them? Manhooker!

Dammit!
Why had she come here instead of going straight to the hospital to get this over with? There was nothing in this apartment that would tell her what she didn’t already know: Francisco was dead. She killed him, and he wasn’t coming back. Period. End of story.

Ixtab stood and felt something brush her leg. “Oh, shit!” The large orange cat shrieked and then dove back under the bed.

“Oh no! Kitty.” Ixtab got down on all fours. “Come here, kitty. Come to Ixtaaaab.” The cat’s golden eyes, wide and full of fear, told her the dang critter wasn’t coming anywhere near her. “Dammit, kitty. Why did you touch me? Why?”

Ixtab swiped for the cat, but it was out of reach.
Shit.
She had to do something fast before the cat choked itself on its own tail or…

The cat bolted from underneath the bed and out into the hall. Ixtab froze.
Hell. The window!

Ixtab ran to the living room just in time to see the tail disappear outside.

“No!” She stopped at the sill and looked down, but there was nothing she could do. The cat was gone. And dead. Very dead.

Ixtab slid down onto the floor, gripping the sides of her head.
Why? Why? Why?
How could she have killed the guy’s cat? No, she didn’t actually pick the poor little creature up and chuck it out the window, but she felt just as responsible.
Poor, poor kitty…

Gods she was so fed up with this! So sick and tired of being the bringer of self-imposed death. It wasn’t fair. She didn’t want to kill—well, not unintentionally, anyway. But hell! The Universe had a sick, sick sense of humor.

A small blinking light and a beep from underneath the sofa caught her attention. Sniffling, she crawled over and found a cell phone. It was on its last legs and needed a charge.

One hundred and fifteen messages?
She wiped her nose on her black lace sleeve and pressed play. “Antonio, this is Vanessa. Where you been, baby? Call me back.” “I gotta itch tonight, Dr. Acero, wanna scratch it? Call me.” “Meowww, Antonio. Want to play with my puss—”

What the…? I guess he’s not going to miss the damned cat. He’s got backups all ready to go!

As each message played, Ixtab felt the rage build and the fantasy of him being something more than just a Francisco look-alike slip further and further away until it died with a gruesome twitch right then and there. This Antonio Acero was a womanizer, a man whore, and clearly inconsiderate of anyone’s feelings. The messages, which became more and more desperate as the women concluded Antonio would not be calling them back, were a testament to his lack of respect for them or their feelings.

Ixtab slowly picked herself up, still crying. “Well, I guess you got what you came for. This is not Francisco, and now you have proof.” The man she once knew was the most caring, compassionate being on the planet. He’d never use women in such a way.

Now she could truly put the past behind her. Francisco was gone. And she needed to forgive herself.
You’ve just taken the first step.

Then why was she so damned angry? Shouldn’t she feel liberated?

Maybe because
someone
needed to pay this Antonio man a visit and let him know that treating women like single-serve coffee cups wasn’t okay.

Ixtab smiled. “I so love it when I get to be
someone
.”

* * *

“But Mr. Acero,” the nurse pleaded, “he’s your brother. Why don’t you want to see—”

“
Coño!
I said
no
. And if you haven’t noticed, I am unable to
see
anything or anyone. My goddamned life is over.” Why was everyone trying to convince him that everything would be all right?
Caray.
Nothing would be all right. Not one goddamned thing because he blew it.

The nurse sighed. “You and I both know you hit your head. The doctor thinks it could be reversible.”

Right. He knew how this game was played. They’d fill him full of hope only to deliver the bad news later. “I don’t give a shit what the doctor says. I do not want to see anyone. And I do not want to eat; I’m not hungry. Just get the fuck out! Let me die!”

Antonio knew his brother remained camped outside in the waiting area, but he couldn’t bear to face him. Not after this. Without sight, his work would have to stop and there would be no hope in changing their fates. And, as if to torment him further, the nightmares only worsened. Day and night, those turquoise eyes clawed at the inner sanctum of his mind, the mysterious woman frantically pleading for salvation. A salvation he would never deliver. Not to her. Not to anyone.

“You’re not dying, Mr. Acero—”

“
Puta madre.
Leave me the hell alone!”

The nurse sighed. “I’ll send the counselor. Maybe she can talk some sense into you.”

“I don’t need a
pinche
headshrink!” he screamed at the disappearing footsteps. “And don’t come back!”

“Hi there,” said a soft female voice.

“Who the
hell
are you?”

“Has anyone ever told you it’s not nice to talk to people like that? I suppose to someone like you, it doesn’t matter.”

Though she spoke sharply with an unrecognizable accent, her voice was actually quite lovely.

Mierda.
Probably beautiful, too. The kind of woman who wouldn’t dare give him the time of day now unless it was to help him cross the goddamned street.

“You people don’t give up,” he grumbled. “I said I don’t want a psychiatrist.”

A long, awkward moment passed with complete and utter silence. A breath, sweet and gentle, touched his lips, causing him to shrink back and slam his head against the headboard. “Ow. For fuck sake! What are you doing?”

Had she tried to kiss him?

Silence.

“Hello?” he said.

Silence.

“I know you’re there. This isn’t funny.” He felt her presence vibrate through the room.

A loud sigh gave away her location.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked.

“Do Spaniards always swear so much? Tsk, tsk. So ungentlemanly. As for me? You could say I’m a friend. And by friend, I mean someone who finds your existence repulsive but chooses to take pity on you regardless. You’re kind of like a little bug with a broken leg that gets put outside to live another day instead of being squashed on the spot.”

“Is this some idiotic American reverse psychology bull crap? You tell crippled people they’re disgusting? Well, guess what? I agree with you. I’m useless!”

“What an idiot,” the woman growled. “By the way, there’s nothing wrong with the package—you still have your gorgeous face. And that body. Hell, you’re a crime against female nature and should be shot on the spot for being so beautiful. Sadly, I can’t say the same for what’s on the inside. In fact, you’re disgusting.”

“What the…?”

“Don’t act surprised,” she said. “I know how you use women, then throw them away. And I’m here to warn you: if you continue your cheap man-whoring ways, I will hunt you down and pluck out your gonads. Got it?”

Man whore? Gonads?
He had no clue how to respond.

“Let’s get on with the show, shall we, Romeo?” she said.

Who was this woman? She sounded crazier than he did. “And what show would that be?” he asked.

“Does that pathetic brain of yours still work? Because I heard you’re supposed to be smart. You don’t sound so smart to me.”

Santa Maria.
She was ruthless. No way was she a doctor or psychologist; she was
pinche loca
. “Who the hell are you?”

“Shut up before I change my mind.
Teen uk’al k’iinam. Teen uk’al yah.
” A pair of hands hit his chest, jolting him like a defibrillator.

His back painfully arched and each muscle in his body went rigid with the blistering heat. The air filled with the scent of fresh-cut daisies and fragrant vanilla, and the heaviness lifted from his chest. It was as though a dark cloud had been sieved from his soul. Clean air entered his lungs, giving him quarter to breathe again. Memories, happy ones, flooded his heart—playing hide-and-seek with his brother in the Spanish vineyards during summer, scuba diving in the Mediterranean, the paella at his favorite little restaurant in the town near his home in Penedès.

“What did you do?” he whispered into the abyss.

“I saved your sorry ass, but not so you can continue your dude-slutting. Got it? You will take this chance I’ve given you to do bigger and better things—one of which will be going back to work on that tablet.”

“How do you know about the tablet?” It was a secret.

“I’m a spy for the government. We know everything,” she said as though she was overwhelmed by boredom.

“Here.” She shoved a card in his hand. “Once you’re home, call this number. They’ll send you a tutor and an assistant. And yes, Einstein, the number is written in braille. I’m also having the landlord install a braille phone and set up your computer. The tutor will come to reteach you to read. And before you thank me, you should know that I accidentally killed your cat. I’m really sorry but it…”

Antonio’s mind whirled as the woman apologized profusely for murdering his cat—something about it getting loose and jumping out a window?—and then proceeded to hurl endless, demeaning insults, peppered with every swear word in the English language along with a few choice words in Spanish, too. She was so…
damned horrible and bitter
! The sourest, most cantankerous female he’d ever met. A thousand sailors could not compete with her sharp edges and unfiltered mouth. And yet, she was strangely alluring.

“So”—she took a breath—“you got it?
Comprende
, Señor Acero?”

“Uh… yes?”

“Good. My work here is done. Have a happy life, assho—I mean, Antonio.”

“Wait! You’re leaving?” He sat up in bed.

“Sorry. Gotta get back to saving lives and all. And by the way, Tony, we’d all appreciate it if you’d get back to work on the tablet before the world blows up.”

“You’re going to use it to fight terrorists?” he asked.

“Sorry, I can’t divulge that information. It’s a matter of national security. See ya.”

* * *

The moment Ixtab left the room and fell out of earshot, she found the nearest wall and leaned in to prevent herself from having a good, old-fashioned heart attack. She didn’t know what came over her, but the moment she saw that man, she’d lost it. Completely lost it. Had it something to do with the fact that as soon as she set eyes on him, every painful memory of Francisco came crashing down? Or had it more to do with her knowing he slept with all those women?

Ixtab clawed at the black lace fabric over her heart, trying to catch her breath. Dammit, the man even frowned like Francisco and had done that little scrunching thing with his beautiful sable eyebrows when he’d felt confused.

Ixtab sank with her back against the wall, panting and trembling. No. This man wasn’t Francisco, she knew that now, but he
was
her punishment—karma for all her sins. And she hated him for it.

Why, oh, gods, why?

Worse of all, seeing the man callously revived those dormant feelings she’d thought dead. Useless feelings. Gritty, raw, needy feelings.

Ixtab’s overloaded mind replayed taunting images of Antonio. Yes, that man was pure sex. Not that Ixtab had ever had sex. Or ever would. Even with black jade—a fairly new discovery that blunted a deity’s energy and allowed him or her intimacy with humans—at her disposal, that sort of physical contact was simply not in the cards. Not for her, anyway. The dark energy channeled through her touch was simply too potent. Didn’t stop her from wanting, though. This man, with his deep olive skin and strong lips, was built like a champion stallion. Had he known his robe was open at the bottom?

Ixtab sighed.

With such an enormous distraction, how had she even performed the cleansing ritual and managed to keep her cells polarized in the right direction?

“Are you all right, ma’am?” A young nurse reached for Ixtab to aid her, but Ixtab scrambled away and then sprang to her feet.

“Don’t touch me. I’m fine.” She scurried down the hall into the stairwell. She needed to get the hell out of there and off-load quickly. Antonio’s darkness and self-loathing swirled in her head. What had the man done to hate himself so profusely? Not even she disliked herself that much, and she’d done some pretty outrageously heinous things worthy of hatred—on accident, of course. Always on accident.

Gods, I can’t think straight.
She needed to shed this physicist’s energy fast. It felt like it had wrapped itself around her heart in a stranglehold. She’d never experienced such an alarmingly intense sensation.

Ixtab bolted outside to the pedestrian-filled street, careful to steer clear of any humans, and headed for the subway. There was always someone worthy of a little death on the subway.