Vampires Need Not...Apply? (7 page)

Yes, all she needed was to cleanse and everything would be fine. Wouldn’t it?

Five deserving victims later, Ixtab returned to Helena and Niccolo’s building. It was quite a nice place actually. The communal areas, including the lobby, were decorated with modern furniture, mostly reds and whites, with a few richly upholstered, overstuffed chairs and velvety pillows. Kind of an
Alice in Wonderland
meets Target look. Of course, Helena was bunkered down with her man-nanny and daughter at Kinich’s, so she’d offered up the unoccupied penthouse, which Niccolo had decorated in classic vampire chic (top-of-the-line, spare-no-expense, modern everything).

But first, a stop.
Ixtab got off the elevator on the nineteenth floor and knocked on the first door. Ironically, the physicist’s apartment was only one door down. What would Dr. Acero think if he knew his neighbor was a vampire?

“Go the fuck away!”

A very cranky vampire.
Ixtab rolled her eyes and pushed open the door. “Sure. I’d love to come in.”

Though dusk had already made its appearance, Kinich’s blinds remained drawn and he sat in the darkest corner of the living room, staring at a wall.

It pained her to see her favorite brother like this. He truly had been dealt a nasty hand.

“Hi. I’m looking for Kinich. He’s about, yeah, so tall. Master of all things sunny. Thinks he’s king of the Universe. Recently turned undead. Have you seen him?”

Kinich didn’t budge.

“Okay. I’m not getting the funny bone award, but cut me some slack; I’m the Goddess of Suicide.” She reached into her bag and popped an orange Tic Tac into her mouth. She still tasted that damned physicist on her tongue. She’d have to cleanse again later and see if she could dispel the lingering residue.

“Go the fuck away,” Kinich grumbled.

Ixtab flipped on the lights and cringed.
This is seriously depressing.
Black-and-white prints of necks hung on gray walls, and most of the furniture was black.

She took a seat on the black leather couch and continued to inspect the room. Yes, clearly Helena had furnished the apartment expecting the usual vampire tenant. She’d bet her favorite red flip-flops that the bedroom had a four-post bed with black bed curtains and red satin sheets.

She leaned forward and glanced through the doorway leading to the bedroom.

Yup.
Kind of a surprise, too, because Helena and Niccolo—a vampire and ex-vampire—had excellent taste in furnishings for their private homes. But this? She made a sour face.
Icky.

Ooh! New reason! Vampires are icky, number four: their homes look like an after-hours strip club minus the pole.

To be clear, the pole would be an improvement—liven up the place a little.

“Are you still here? I said get the fuck out!” Kinich screamed.

And while she was adding to her icky list, she should also note that vampires were in a constant state of irritability. So. Annoying. She’d yet to meet a male vampire who didn’t trigger an urge in her to kick him in the man taters. Exception being Kinich, of course. Poor guy. He lived for sunshine. And now he was anti-sunshine.

Mr. Cloud?

“Kinich, I know things are rough, but Penelope needs you. She calls every day, crying and asking to come see you—”

His head snapped up. Those eyes, which were usually a stunning turquoise like hers, turned coal-mine black. “I tried to kill her. Fucking kill her, Ixtab! What she needs is nothing to do with me.”

She wanted to reach out and provide comfort, but she’d yet to ever touch a vampire. Who knew what might happen? Probably not the best time to find out.

“You’re still adjusting,” she argued. “Give it time—”

“I’ve had sixty-five! Sixty-fucking-five bags of fucking blood and can think of nothing but drinking her! She’s carrying my baby, for fuck sake.”

“Jeez. I wasn’t aware vampires were so into naughty words.”
Reminds me of the physicist actually.
“I love naughty words by the way, but only when used sparingly and in witty, creative context. So can I buy a non-f-word, please, Alex? I’ll take Tormented Vampires and Their Stranded Pregnant Mortals for two hundred dollars.”

Kinich didn’t laugh.

Dammit. She was only trying to make him feel better.

“Okay. I need to work on my jokes,” she said. “I feel like that damned android from
Star Trek
—Info? Or… Megabit?” She scratched her temple. What was his name?
Well, I guess I know what I’m doing tonight: reruns!

“Seriously, Kinich, you’re going to have to find a way to get over this—whatever the hell it is—and go to her. Otherwise, you’ll lose her.”

He laughed into the air like a madman.

“What’s so funny?” Sporadic, inappropriately timed laughter always put Ixtab on edge. It reminded her of Belch right before something bad happened.

Kinich’s laughter died with a little sputter. “The irony. That’s what’s so goddamned funny.” He rubbed his forehead. “There was a time—not too long ago, in fact—that I would have given anything, anything at all, to be a vampire.”

Eww…
“Why?” she asked.

“Right after I met Penelope, she was attacked by the Maaskab in her apartment and I happened to be on the phone with her.” He paused and swallowed. “The torture of listening to her screams was unbearable, and I said to myself, ‘I’m a deity. A goddamned deity! And I can’t save her. But a vampire could. A vampire could simply sift to her and always be there to protect her.’ ”

“You’re saying that you really wanted to become a vampire? Just to protect her?” Ixtab couldn’t believe that a god,
the
most powerful god in the Universe, would want such a thing.

“I suppose I did. Now, that doesn’t matter. Not only am I unable to sift because the Maaskab barricaded that dimension, I’m Penelope’s biggest threat. In fact, thank gods I can’t sift; there’d be no way to keep her safe from me.”

Wow.
In some ways, he was right. Vampires being unable to sift was a hidden blessing.
Funny how things sorta work out that way sometimes.

“She’s fucking better off without me,” he added.

“Ahhh. Spoken like a clueless dipshit. Because with the sort of despair she’s enduring, she will end up with someone, and that someone will be Zac.”

Kinich’s nostrils flared. “Zac?”

“Yes, brother. She has the weight of the world on her shoulders and a baby on the way. If she fails…” Ixtab couldn’t bear to finish the dreary, apocalyptic thought. “Everything is at stake, and she needs someone to stand by her side. Friends aren’t enough. The gods aren’t enough. She needs… you. And if she can’t have you, then eventually she will cave. Zac is quite determined.”

Kinich snarled.

Ixtab nodded. “Good. I’m glad you understand. I’ll be back to check on you tomorrow. In the meantime, I suggest you take this.” She slipped a small, insulated pouch from her enormous floral handbag. “It’s a vial of Penelope’s blood from her doctor. Start desensitizing yourself.”

Kinich’s eyes fixated on the pouch. Saliva dribbled from the corner of his mouth.

Oh, sweet gods.
“Get a hold of yourself. It’s only blood.”

“It smells…” He sniffed the air. “Delicious.”

It was going to be a very, very long week. “Just don’t drink the stuff. I had Belch put a drop of his ball sweat in the vial.”

Kinich dropped his head. “You are too cruel.”

It was the only way to keep him from gulping it down, given Ixtab couldn’t very well keep running back to the well now, could she?

“Perrrty much.” Ixtab headed for the door. “And by the way, brother, I met your baby. It is beautiful. I’ve never felt a more pure and happy soul. I suggest you remember that when you say you cannot cure yourself of this desire for Penelope’s blood.”

Kinich didn’t blink, didn’t move, didn’t breathe. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

Ixtab shrugged. “If you wanna know, you’ll have to get your act together and help Penelope save the world.”

She slammed the door behind her and smiled. She’d seen his aura shift from a deep gray to a light brown. Yes, there was hope for him yet.

* * *

Eighteen saves, twenty-five cleanses, and one accidental death later, Ixtab stood before a group of unfamiliar faces. “Hi. My name is Ixtab. My friends call me…”
Darn, I really need to get some friends so I can have nickname.
“… Ixtab.”

“Hi, Ixtab.”

“It’s been”—she looked at her pastel yellow watch—“ten minutes and seventeen seconds since I last killed an innocent mortal.”

Applause.

Why are they clapping? It’s awful!

Because you compelled them to be attentive and polite perhaps?

“Well, the reason I’m here is because something strange is happening. Take today, for example. I’d just removed the darkness from this poor woman who spends her days feeding the homeless and had fallen into a horrible slump; simply saw too much suffering is my guess. Anyway, I cleansed her, found a few thugs hanging out in front of the liquor store. Cleansed. Went on my merry way. I didn’t make it two blocks until my body filled up with dark energy again.”

The group of elderly women exchanged glances.

“I know, it’s weird. Right?” Ixtab said. “And the strangest part is that it started after I helped that physicist. I can’t get his damned taste out of my mouth.” Ixtab smacked her lips. “His darkness is kind of nutty.” Ixtab snorted. “Oh! Get it?
Nutty Professor.
I’m on fire today.”

Crickets.

She rolled her eyes. “Cut me some slack. I’m the Goddess of Suicide. Comedy doesn’t come naturally. Neither does not lopping people’s heads off when they don’t laugh at my jokes.” She paused. “
Seeee?
That was a joke. I really suck at this. Almost as badly as I suck at smiling. I once went an entire century without smiling—not that anyone would ever notice since I wear a veil.”

Someone chuckled under their breath.

“
That
wasn’t a joke.” She shook her head. Why was her suffering always funny? That just didn’t seem right.

Ixtab sighed. “As I was saying… now I’m unsure what to do. I cleansed twice this afternoon—a sweet score: bagged a murderer and a pimp. But I keep filling up again. Any ideas what to do?”

“Have you tried praying?” The slightly plump woman, wearing a gray sweater garnished with white cat hair, pointed toward the chapel in the other room.

Ixtab shook her head. “My prayers don’t get a lot of traction with the whole killing innocent people and all. Even if it’s by accident.”

“How about knitting?” asked one woman who sat farthest away in the circle. She had deep smile lines etched into her kind, wrinkly face. “When I have trouble finding an answer, I knit. Then the answer just pops in my head.”

Ixtab bobbed her head. “Sure. Why not? What are we knitting today?”

“Baby bootees.”

“Oh, perfect. I can make some for Penelope and Kinich.” She grabbed a pair of needles from a basket in the center of the circle and plopped down in an open seat. Gods, her hair was itchy. “Mind if I take this off?”

No one objected, so she did.

The women gasped.

“Dear,” said the woman with the cat hair garnish, “you
are
exquisite. And those eyes, they’re… stunning.”

Ixtab squirmed in her chair. She didn’t like it when people looked at her that way, with admiration. Simply put, she didn’t deserve to be revered. Yes, it was true that being worshipped was one of the perks of being a god or goddess. In fact, many deities thrived on it. Fate, for example, wouldn’t last a day without having someone light a candle in her honor. But Ixtab didn’t want to be adored; she wanted to be good. “You’re only complimenting me because I’ve compelled everyone here. If you knew the real me, you and your walker would be ten blocks away already. I am about as ugly as they come.”
On the inside, anyway.

Her mind quickly flipped to her beloved Francisco. Perhaps that is why she’d loved him so much. He made her feel beautiful on the inside and worthy for the first time in her existence. It was a feeling she missed more than she cared to admit.
If only second chances truly existed.

Ixtab suddenly felt the urge to see that physicist again.

No. Didn’t you learn your lesson? Stay away from him—you’ll only end up killing the guy, and we need him to stay alive and work on the tablet. Not to mention… he’s the Latin lover poster boy!

“Does anyone have yellow yarn?” Ixtab asked. “I don’t want to give away the baby’s sex. Better if it’s a surprise.”

That’s right. Stick to knitting and your work. No physicist.

Yet somehow she knew the situation with Antonio Acero was just getting started. Because that’s how the Universe rolled.

January 13

Despite missing his cat and being unable to see, Antonio’s arrival home one week earlier hadn’t been nearly as difficult as he’d thought. After the visit from the mysterious woman in the hospital, his dismal outlook on the world had shifted. He knew he could tackle any obstacle despite the impossibility of this situation. Yes, he was happy. Genuinely happy.

Perhaps she was an angel?
A really, really mean angel.

Antonio slipped on his favorite black sweater and black jeans. At least he thought they were black. He hadn’t had time to work with his new assistant to organize his closet since they’d been spending every waking hour learning basic braille—mostly numbers.

In any case, he decided he’d go out for his first walk today. Just around the block to clear his head. Although the woman from his dreams continued haunting him every hour of the day and he still believed she was his destiny, the key to everything, he couldn’t stop obsessing over that cruel, yet mesmerizing banshee from the hospital. He fantasized what she might look like. Was she a leggy blonde with the slim frame of a runway model? Or a curvy Latina with full breasts, the sort of breasts a man could lose himself in? No matter. If that voice were any indication, she had to be the most gorgeous creature to walk the planet. The mere thought of seeing her again created a sense of bliss until he wondered if she would want him. A blind man.