Vampires Need Not...Apply?: An Accidentally Yours Novel (The Accidentally Yours Series) Page 9

  “Roberto! Potpie! Now!” Cimil barked and then returned to her conversation. “You think a vampire with that sort of hearing would get that the microwave’s beckoning him to bring me my savory snack.”

  “Cimiiil? Truth!” Zac growled.

  “Truth? Truth? Oh, shucks. Where did I put it this time? Hold on, brother. Now let me see… Oh, look! I found an original bionic man doll!”

  Zac heard clanks and crashing in the background.

  “Where the hell are you, Cimil?”

  “Popping tags with Roberto,” she replied.

  “Popping what?” he asked.

  Cimil growled. “You shame Macklemore—I’m at a thrift store. Where else would a goddess find a microwave for her potpie and new pair of pink hot pants? And a Lee Majors doll! Score!”

  Zac felt his face simmer with red-hot anger. “I’m going to hunt you. Then I’m going to rip out your—”

  “Truth! I found it! Here is it. The truth is that everything is going according to plan,” she said.

  “You mean I won’t be tried for treason? I still have a chance to win Penelope away from that prick of a brother?”

  “No. Not that plan. The other plan.”

  What the fuck? “Mind explaining.” Now Zac wanted to retch.

  “Yes. I mind. But I will tell you this: everything will work out as it should, brother. Now, do you remember when I told you to make sure you had a safe place to hide and to tell no one of its whereabouts? Where is it?” she asked.

  “I’m not telling you anything.” No. He’d never trust Cimil again. And if it was the last thing he did, he’d make her pay.

  “Fine. Be that way. Where’s the love? Seriously. All right, go to your hiding place and stay there until you are found.”

  “Who’s going to find me?” he asked.

  “Well, I am, silly,” she replied. “Do you think I’d let you get away with what you’ve done? Tootles.”

  “But I did what you—!” The call ended and Zac had the distinct feeling that he’d just been duped into doing Cimil’s evil handiwork. Maybe he should go to his brethren and confess immediately before things got any worse. Wouldn’t they understand this situation? He couldn’t help that he loved Penelope, and he’d be damned to simply stand by and watch that son-of-a-bitch Kinich break her heart over and over again.

  Gods fucking dammit. This situation was beyond screwed. Because now Penelope hated him.

  “Driver, to the airport, please. The international terminal.” Zac would never forgive Cimil for this. Ever.

  Chapter Trece

  Ixtab entered Kinich’s bedroom and groaned with frustration at the sight of Penelope stretched across red satin sheets next to an immobile and much improved but still slightly battered body. With her long, dark hair braided and the floral dress she wore, it looked as though she planned to take Kinich for a picnic the moment he woke. Obviously, Penelope would be the fried chicken. And the potato salad. And apple pie.

  “You shouldn’t be in here,” Ixtab barked. “It’s been three days now, and he might wake up at any second. And remember, until we break Zac’s handiwork, you’re still Kinich’s favorite treat.”

  Penelope didn’t move from Kinich’s resting form. “I’m not leaving.” She lovingly stared at his bruised face.

  How could she look at the man like she wanted to ravish him? He was a mess.

  Yes. No thanks to you. Ixtab winced. Why was she always causing everyone around her so much pain?

  “Penelope, I want you to know that I’m really sorry about this. You, Zac, Kinich. Especially Kinich. I didn’t want to let him fall, but—”

  “You don’t need to explain. You did what you had to do and saved Antonio. Kinich will survive.”

  “Yeah. Lucky for him that moving truck broke his fall.” Ouch. That really had to hurt.

  “What matters is that we’ll get another chance. I’m just glad Viktor and my mom decided to take a vacation from Euro Disney to come check on me.” Penelope paused. “That sounded weird, didn’t it?”

  Yes, it had sounded weird. But these days, weird was the new normal. And she was right; it had been one hell of a crowd control job—sixty people’s memories had to be wiped. And then there was that whole saving Kinich and Antonio thing. So, yeah, bet your sweet, icky vampires she’d been happy they had stopped by for a visit.

  “How’s Antonio doing, by the way?” Penelope asked.

  Ixtab shrugged. “Still asleep. Viktor thinks I messed up the transformation because I touched Antonio right before he drank the blood.” She scratched her temple over her dark veil.

  Ixtab still couldn’t comprehend how she’d touched Antonio without preparing herself or saying her chant. And then—wow!—there’d been that very odd thing with their souls, lights ebbing and flowing from one to the other. Perhaps it had been due to the stress of the situation. Stranger things had been known to happen when it came to her gifts.

  Well, she wouldn’t risk contact again. Vampires clearly weren’t immune to her powers. Case in point, Kinich. And it was just as well, because vampires were revolting—except for her brother, of course (poor, poor Kinich), who was only temporarily revolting because he looked like a giant heap of steak tartare. No thanks to you. But all other vampires? Ick. They were dead, and she hated death. Well, not hated it exactly; however, to find death attractive? Nope on that. Seriously. How could humans be so obsessed with them? Vampires were lepers. Worse than lepers.

  Zombie lepers with missing limbs. Ixtab shivered. She liked humans. Alive, full of light and warmth, and she especially admired the ones who laughed. Francisco had been that way. His laugh had been contagious. It was the reason she’d fallen in love with the mortal.

  And the reason he died.

  Ugh! Stop that. You’re like a lame one-woman execution squad who keeps firing on herself.

  “So, what will happen to Kinich when he wakes up?” Penelope asked. “Will he still want to kill himself?”

  Ixtab shook her head. “I don’t think so. Although I don’t have experience with vampires, and Kinich is the first I’ve ever tried to cleanse. I believe I extracted all of the bad juju.” Ixtab looked at her watch: 4:44 p.m. The winter sun would set in one minute. “Shoot. I need to go. I want to be there when Antonio wakes up—if he wakes up—and you really can’t stay here alone. We need to figure out how to break Kinich from wanting your—”

  “I’ll stay with her.” Penelope’s mother stood in the doorway. Like usual, she wore something light and cheery. Today it was white leather pants, white suede boots, and a white cashmere sweater. She’d nailed the ex–angel vampire look.

  “Just be careful,” Ixtab warned. “I’ll be back in a few—”

  Suddenly, Kinich flew from the bed and tackled Penelope.

  “Kinich!” Ixtab shrieked as Penelope’s mother jumped on Kinich’s back, but he was too strong. He chomped down on Penelope’s neck, and she screamed in terror.

  An agonizing wail burst from Kinich’s mouth and flames exploded from his lips. He dropped to the floor, taking Julie down with him.

  Holy shit.

  Within seconds the flames died, but Kinich lay writhing in pain.

  Ixtab stripped away her veil and handed it to Julie.

  Julie paused for a moment and gaped at Ixtab.

  “Here. Press it to Penelope’s neck.” Ixtab wiggled the veil in front of Julie’s face.

  Julie blinked and then turned her attention to Penelope and inspected her neck. “It’s just a scratch. Are you okay, baby?”

  Penelope burst out with hysterical laughter, tears pouring from her eyes.

  Lips charred and resembling two lumps of coal, Kinich sat up. He stared at the wall like he’d been thumped over the head with a flaming sledgehammer.

  “Mind telling me what’s so funny, Penelope?” Ixtab asked, catching her breath and seriously trying not to freak. Yes, gods freaked. More often than any one of them would ever admit.

  “He can’t drink my—my—oh, God, it�
��s just so funny!” She rolled from side to side on her back. “He can’t bite me. I’ve got sunlight flowing through my veins. I’m Kryptonite!”

  Ixtab scratched her head and exchanged glances with Julie. All this time, Penelope had been right; Kinich couldn’t hurt her. The Universe had seen to that. How was it possible that a quasi-mortal got one leg up on her in the “right department”?

  Penelope stopped laughing and looked at Kinich. Potent beams of fury radiated from her eyes toward his.

  “Well, I’m sure you two have a lot to catch up on.” Julie scrambled to her feet and looked at Ixtab. “Let’s give them some privacy.”

  “But—Uhh… is it safe to leave her alone?” Ixtab asked.

  “I think the question is, is it safe for him?” Julie replied.

  “You son of a bitch!” Penelope dove straight for Kinich and began pounding his chest with her fists, causing tiny bursts of fireballs.

  Hopefully Helena and Niccolo had ample fire insurance for the building.

  Ixtab made for the door behind Julie while Penelope let loose with a verbal avalanche of “How dare yous” and “You damned idiot! Don’t you ever leave me again!” and “What the hell were you thinking becoming a vampire?… I’ll kill you myself if you ever pull that crap again” and “How could you bite me! Jerk!”

  Ixtab followed Penelope’s mother out into the hall and closed the front door.

  “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-strew
n 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.