Accidentally...Over? Read online

  “No, Ashli. None of this is your fault.”

  She gave it a moment of thought but still came to the same conclusion: It was her fault. If only she could have stayed in 1993 and found a way to survive.

  She glanced over at a group of women standing next to them, laughing and hugging. One held an adorable little girl in her arms dressed as a ladybug with fangs.

  Ashli’s heart sank a little further.

  Brutus squeezed her shoulder. “I know what you’re thinking, but if you asked, they wouldn’t blame you either so neither should you.”

  “I wish there was a way to fix this.”

  Brutus took a deep breath. “Perhaps there is. But you won’t solve it tonight.” His cell phone beeped, and he slid it from his pocket to read the message. “It’s time. The final round. I better get over to the table before Cimil hurts someone. Come, you can watch.”

  Ashli glanced over her shoulder, feeling Máax’s eyes on her, but with the dim lighting and extra-tall crowd, it was hard to spot anything beyond what was directly in front of her. She followed Brutus’s hulking form through the mob of partygoers, which became denser as they neared the sound of Cimil’s cackle.

  “That’s right, bitches. We’re gonna win! I’m not letting the world end without that fucking trophy. It’s mine!” Cimil’s cackle turned into a strange howl.

  Ashli peeked between Brutus and another large man. The people around the table either booed or cheered.

  At the table, Cimil stood across from the mean blonde lady from earlier. Fate? An older gentleman wearing a Catholic priest’s outfit stood next to Cimil, and across from him was a woman about Ashli’s size with long dark hair, dressed as a clown.

  “Wait a second,” Ashli said loudly, trying to be heard above the noise of the cheering, “are they playing…”

  “Hungry Hungry Hippos,” Brutus finished her sentence.

  Okaaaay. Yes, grown adults and seventy-thousand-year-old beings were facing off to a fierce game of Hungry Hungry Hippos. Seemed a little inappropriate given the horrific situation facing them all. But then again, they were at a party to celebrate the end. Piling on the inappropriate seemed par for the course.

  “The last play-off was Barrel of Monkeys. It is a different game every year,” Máax said from behind Ashli.

  Máax… Oh, great, just what she needed. Another whiff of her Kryptonite for all intelligent thought. Her body immediately reacted to him, heating up ten degrees. Hotter in other places.

  Máax and Brutus exchanged alpha male glances and then nodded at each other.

  “So why is there so much security?” Ashli asked.

  “Cimil takes it quite seriously,” Máax replied. “The mortals win every year and not for lack of trying on our part. It seems we fall short on intuitive capability and hand-eye coordination when compared to humans. And of course, we’re not allowed to use any powers.”

  Cimil stood in front of her little station, furiously flicking the lever, gobbling up the plastic marbles bouncing around in the center of the game. “Yes! Two more and we win!”

  “Over my dead body!” yelled the priest, who apparently took the game just as seriously. “We’ve got the big man on our side!”

  “Stuff it, Xavier. You’re not taking that trophy!” Fate barked, her hips twisting back and forth while she worked the flapping hippo mouth.

  Ashli couldn’t believe her eyes. Once again, she had the urge to say that now, yes, now, she’d seen it all, but now she simply knew better.

  Suddenly, Cimil pointed at something up on the ceiling. “Ohmygod. Look!”

  The crowd’s gaze zeroed in on something above them, but Ashli didn’t look away. She didn’t know why. Maybe she was still in shock that actual, real live gods were playing a priest and clown? But her eyes remained glued to Cimil.

  Cimil’s attention then went back to the game, and she flicked two more times, threw up her arms, and began screaming, “Boom! Fishedo! Victory is ours! The gods finally win!”

  Fate ran around the table and began hopping up and down with Cimil; the two looked like rabid prairie dogs.

  Furious, the priest pounded his fist down on the table. “You cheated, Cimil! You and your tricks. You grabbed an extra ball when no one was looking.”

  Cimil’s turquoise eyes lit up. “I beg your pardon. We won fair and square.”

  “Like hell you did, Cimil,” said the woman in the clown suit. “We demand a rematch.”

  “No. We won. Deal with it,” Fate howled.

  The four broke out shouting, and Ashli noticed the crowd beginning to grow uneasy. Brutus’s men closed in on the fighting four; it looked like Cimil was about to punch the priest. But suddenly, the priest reached out and smacked Cimil across the face. The room fell into a horrified hush.

  Ashli felt herself being tugged back. It was Máax pulling her away. “This is going to get ugly.”

  That large, scary vampire dude that had been guarding Cimil’s prison cell stepped between Cimil and the priest. “No one touches my woman.”

  “You call that lying, thieving, cheating whore a woman?”

  “Did I just hear that priest call Cimil a whore?” Ashli whispered in disbelief.

  “Yes,” Máax replied, “but he’s not really a priest. He’s an ex-priest and has a thing for her. Sour grapes.”

  Well, sour grapes are about to get squashed into sour wine.

  The vampire reached down and grabbed the man by his neck. Brutus’s men descended on the vampire quickly, trying to break the two up, but apparently the multitude of vampires in the room did not appreciate anyone touching Cimil’s man. The vampires grabbed Brutus’s soldiers and flung them across the room like tiny rag dolls. Apparently, the gods did not appreciate that one bit because they stepped in and attacked the vampires. It looked like the immortal version of a WWF match, bodies flying everywhere, fists moving so quickly she saw nothing but hazy streaks.

  “Leave, Ashli. Run!” Máax commanded her.

  Ashli was about to obey when she glanced down at her chest. “Well, it’s worth a try.” She grabbed for her whistle, but something large slammed into her body, sending her flying a good fifty feet. She landed on her back with a thud, the wind instantly sucked from her chest.

  “I told you! Watch where you fucking sift! I’ll fucking tear your head off, Sentin!” she heard Máax roar.

  Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Oh, gods, can’t breathe. Not only had the wind been knocked out of her, but she couldn’t seem to move. “Máax,” she managed to grind out in a pathetic little whimper. “Máaaaax.”

  But the room had erupted into an all-out brawl. Bodies flew so quickly from one side of the room to the other that they looked more like shooting stars. Grunts and screams layered over the loud dance music.

  She looked up and saw a man hovering over her. His long dreads hung around his face like a curtain of black snakes. At first, she thought it was that Andrus guy, but when the lights pulsed, she caught a glimpse of his face. The man’s eyes were bloody-red pits, and his face was covered in mud or something dark. Real blood? The smell of putrid, rotting flesh instantly hit her. It filled her lungs and triggered her gag reflex.

  Holyrefereebunnyangels! Save me. Why had she thought that? Ashli screamed, but no one paid any attention.

  The creature smiled and a drop of his saliva dribbled from his mouth, hitting her on the cheek.

  Ew. Ew. Ew.

  The large creature effortlessly plucked her from the floor by the shoulders as if she were a wet rag. “You are pretty. You will give me many strong babies.” The monster’s voice sounded like a strange symphony of tortured souls screaming in agony.

  Whatthefuck?

  The monster reached one large, crusty hand around her neck and began petting her cheek. “My little love strumpet.”

  What? No! “Help!” Why was no one noticing?

  Because they’re too darn busy fighting over a game of Hungry Hungry Hippos! Idiots!

  Ashli struggled beneath the mo
nster’s icy grip; meanwhile, he dragged her toward the door.

  “No. Let me go!” She clawed at his fingers, but this only made him cackle with joy.

  “First, I’m going to”—the monster made a sickly slurping sound between words—“eat your juicy little legs so you cannot run away.”

  What? My legs? Dear Lord! She tried reaching for her whistle, but the monster ripped it away and threw it to the floor.

  “You wiggle too much,” he grumbled. “Me no like wiggly humans. Bad for my back.” The monster thumped her over the head with something hard, and she fell to the floor. The twinkling ceiling lights momentarily faded to black, but when her vision rebounded, she wished it hadn’t. The monster held a large blackened machete. He raised the weapon into the air, and in that moment, knowing she was about to die, or at the very least lose her “juicy little legs,” the only thing she wanted was Máax. To see him one last time. Her gaze flashed to the mess of brawling immortals in search of her god, but what she found was simply too horrific to bear. Vampires were ripping out the Uchben’s throats. The gods were decapitating the vampires. Blood, so much blood.

  The ground began to shake with violent tremors. Ten. Number ten.

  “Máax…” she gasped as she felt the monster’s blade come down on her flesh.

  The sound of explosions and screaming penetrated Ashli’s mind, kicking her awake and immediately sending her into a panic attack. Oh, shit! The monster! She sprang to her feet and swiveled on her heels, hands defensively extended.

  It took several moments to realize her legs remained intact and she was nowhere near that thing. Instead, she was inside a giant movie theater. Empty, dark, and creepy as hell. The sound of screaming once again grabbed her attention. She glanced at the screen horrified by the violence playing out. It looked like a clip from Saving Private Ryan, only set in a modern city. New York perhaps? Dead bodies, bloody and dismembered, lay over heaps of rubble. Buildings crumbled atop people fleeing with small children from whatever chased them.

  Ashli held her hands to her mouth. What was happening?

  “Nice. Isn’t it?”

  Ashli gasped.

  A petite blonde wearing a referee outfit sat next to the spot where Ashli stood.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “I’m Anne, but—”

  “Where am I? And where did you come from?”

  The woman rolled her eyes. That’s when Ashli noticed the woman’s wings. “And are those—”

  “Wings? Yeah. But that’s not important right now.” She jerked her head toward the screen. “See that movie?”

  Ashli nodded slowly.

  “Well, it’s not a movie. It’s a glimpse of the future.”

  “Wow! That drink was so awesome!” Another woman, also with wings, appeared right out of thin air next to Anne.

  Ohmygod.

  The brunette waved. “Hiya, Ashli. Boy, you just cost me five cappuccinos.”

  Ashli lifted a brow. “Sorry?”

  “I bet Anne that you wouldn’t need a dry run, but she was right. You so blew it.”

  Anne sighed. “I’m always right, Jess. Get over it.”

  Ashli wasn’t sure if she should run, faint, or cry. Maybe all three?

  “So true, my friend. So true.” The brunette, Jess, turned toward Ashli. “Look. You get one shot. One. Otherwise, that”—she pointed to the screen as a young man’s head was removed; his blood spurted in the air—“is our future.”

  Ashli didn’t understand any of this.

  “You have to fight, Ashli. Fight hard. You have it in you to turn the tides. So don’t mess this up.” Jess snapped her fingers. “Oh! And you will forget we ever had this conversation.”

  “But I don’t understand. I was at that party and some monster grabbed me. Then I was here and—”

  “We’re already breaking the rules by intervening. We can’t give you any more help or the Creator will say we welched on the bet. Then it’s game over. So now it’s time to get out there and make it happen.”

  “But I don’t know what—” Ashli blinked and found herself lying on the floor, that decrepit, horrifying monster standing over her, drool trickling from his mouth.

  Ew, ew, ew!

  She screamed for Máax, but he was somewhere among the ocean of tangled, brawling bodies. She was on her own.

  But then something Máax once told her played through her head: “We fight every step of the godsdamned way, every godsdamned moment, for every godsdamned inch. We never give up. We never give in.”

  That’s right, Ash. Never give in. Her entire body filled with strength from some unknown place deep inside.

  “Let me go,” she croaked. She dug her nails into the monster’s finger and then felt a burst of tingles.

  The pulsing lights flickered across the monster’s face. Euphoric. He looked utterly euphoric.

  “Ashli!” Máax’s sweet, sweet voice filled the air. He tackled the monster, and both men fell to the ground. Ashli watched as Máax pummeled the monster into unconsciousness. She stumbled back, gripping her throat.

  Máax sprang up and scrambled to Ashli. “Oh, gods,” Máax’s warm, husky frame enveloped her. “Are you okay?”

  She glanced down at the creature. He had a giant shit-eating grin glued to his face. “What is that?”

  “That was a fucking Maaskab. How the hell did he get in here? And why in the devil’s name is it so happy?”

  The mob riot continued to rage all around them. The pulsing beat of the music and flashing lights made it look like some bizarre interpretive dance-off. Not one person noticed what had just happened.

  “I am so sorry, Ashli. Please forgive me for leaving you unprotected.” Máax ran his hand down her back and pressed her cheek to his bare chest. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  She pushed back a bit to touch her neck. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

  “Thank the gods, I made you immortal,” he said.

  “He said he wanted to eat my legs. I’m not sure that would’ve helped.”

  Another body whizzed by, bumping into them. Suddenly, images of this scene turning into a bloodbath flooded her mind. Was it a premonition? Similar to the dream she’d had right before her parents died? She didn’t know, but dammit, this time she wasn’t about to sit idly by and do nothing.

  “For deities’ sake,” Máax groaned. “I need to stop this fight.”

  “No. I need to stop it.” Again, Ashli remembered the whistle, and somehow she knew she needed to blow it. She spun in a circle, looking down at the ground. The monster had torn it off her neck, but it couldn’t have gone far.

  “What are you looking for?” Máax asked.

  She caught a glimpse of the chain sticking out from beneath the monster’s immobile body.

  Ewww. Don’t be a coward.

  She reached down, pulled the whistle free, and dangled it in the air. “I’m looking for this.”

  “A whistle?” Máax said, clearly questioning her sanity.

  She blew and once again felt a strange sensation pulse through her body and radiate out. Everyone froze in their tracks and the music stopped.

  Suddenly, the entire crowd—deities, vampires, and Uchben soldiers—began laughing and toasting each other as if the knock-down, drag-out fight had never occurred.

  She stared at the damned whistle in shock. How had she known to use it? And how the hell had it worked? “Ashli, where’d you get that?” Máax asked, astonished.

  She shrugged. “Not really sure.”

  “Guess we can figure that out later. I think we’re under attack.” Máax cleared his throat. “Has anyone noticed my friend here?” he yelled, but everyone was too busy enjoying themselves.

  Once again, Ashli blew the whistle to get their attention. “Hey!” All eyes were on Ashli. She pointed to the floor.

  No one seemed all too shocked except for Brutus who pushed through the crowd.

  “Shit.” Brutus pulled a radio from his belt and directed all Uchben to their p
osts. “Everyone, please make your way to the back of the hall toward the elevators and stairs. You’ll be safe in the underground shelter.”

  “Wait!” Cimil pushed her way forward. “I’m not letting one crusty little Scab rob me of my long-awaited victory.”

  “Cimil,” Máax argued. “That is not important. The Maaskab are here. We must get our guests to safety.”

  She rolled her eyes. “That Scab is an army of one, bonehead. Roberto and his vampires exterminated the Maaskab over a week ago. You didn’t think we’d lock up all the gods and let the Scabs have free rein, did you? I mean, I’m crazy, but not craaaazy.”

  Roberto appeared at her side. “It is true. We are amazaballs,” he said stiffly. “Only a few got away, but we planned to hunt them later. Possibly for Easter. The older vampires are bored with eggs.”

  The crowd cheered and applauded wildly. Ashli guessed it was for the news of the Maaskab being exterminated, not for their creepy Easter plans.

  Cimil took a bow. “There’ll be time for lavishing me with ridiculous amounts of praise and gifts later. But for the moment, you may all show your gratitude by giving me my trophy!”

  “You cheated.” The man in the priest outfit stepped out of the crowd.

  Ashli cleared her throat. “Everyone. Um… I saw the whole thing, and Cimil didn’t cheat. I mean, yes, she made everyone look away, but she didn’t grab any balls.”

  Cimil’s tall vampire gloated. “In the last ten minutes, you mean.”

  “Uh—yeah. Sure,” Ashli said.

  “See! I won. The girl says so.” Cimil flipped the priest the bird.

  “Perhaps,” the priest argued, “you did not steal any balls, but the momentary distraction gave you the advantage. You still cheated.”

  Mumbles of agreement erupted from the crowd.

  Cimil sighed. “Okay. Perhaps my move was bit unsportsmanlike. I concede. We will have a rematch. By the way, does anyone else have the urge to perform an interpretive dance depicting the beauty of springtime? Or perhaps write a flowery haiku?”

  A bunch of people raised their hands.

  Cimil fell to the floor like a bag of wet cement, completely unconscious. Her vampire dropped to his knees. “Sweetheart? Sweetheart?” He gently slapped her cheeks and then placed his ear over her heart. “Cimil?”