Disgusting, he thought, knowing where that phone had just been.
Cimil turned her back and began pacing the length of her tiny cell. “Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Corner office, huh? With a view of downtown LA?” Pause. “Oh. And underground parking? And day care one block away? I’ll take it!” She turned, shoved the phone back down her pants, and sighed happily. “So! Where were we?”
“Nowhere,” Máax groaned.
“Ah yes! Nowhere is precisely where you are. So may I suggest that you focus on feeling grateful for what you’ve got instead of not. What else is there to do now? And look at the bright side. At least this way, you’re not going on trial. You’re free to live until doomsday. Unless we magically find a way out of this, in which case you and I are completely hosed. Because we’ve been naughty.” She smiled and stared at the floor. “Really, really naughty. Yessss. I should be punished. Gods, I love being me.” She froze for several moments, convulsed, and then picked up her paddleball from her bed. “Which is why I’m going to enjoy whatever time we have left.”
“No. You’re going to help me fix this mess and stop the end.”
“Nope,” Cimil replied. “I’m going to throw a giant party. We’re going out with a bang. And lots of banging! It’s going to be fornication fabulous.”
“You can’t be serious,” he said.
“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve gone through this doomsday hullabaloo? Any at all? Six thousand seven hundred and two. I steer us clear of one disaster only to find we’re on a collision course with another. It’s apocalyptic Whac-A-Mole. I’m pooped! It’s time to say thank you to the Universe and celebrate the lives we’ve had. And hump like feral lemurs. ’Cause I like to move it, move it.”
“Of course we can hump like strange little animals”—Roberto appeared next to Máax—“if that is your wish, my little apocalyptic lollipop. But you do not mean the part about giving up. You love saving the world from the brink of extinction. It is your favorite pastime aside from garage sale hunting.”
“Yah. Not so much. Gettin’ old. In fact, I’m officially retiring as of this moment.” She sat down on her cot and began typing into her phone. “Look. See! I tweeted it, and that makes it official!” She held up her phone. “Now for the party announcement.”
“You’re not leaving that cell, Cimil. Because we are not giving up,” Máax said sternly. “Not on this world. Not on Ashli. And there certainly won’t be any parties.”
Cimil tilted her head, raised her cell phone, and tapped the screen. “Not according to the almighty tweet. The party’s on, baby. On!”
“Over my dead, invisible body.”
“All those in favor of giving up on this futile effort to stop the apocalypse and enjoy the time we have left, raise their hands!” she screamed.
“I don’t give a shit about your voting.” Máax looked around the prison. Everyone had their hands up, exceptions being those with mates. “No. Uh-uh. No one leaves here until we figure out a solution.” Máax was losing his patience.
“Let us out! Let us out! Let us out!” The chant started with Cimil but quickly spread to Máax’s other brethren. The entire underground prison shook beneath his feet as a hurricane began to rage inside of his sister Ixtab’s cell (she involuntarily created bad weather when upset). Her mate, Antonio, pressed himself into the corner of the cell, attempting to calm her down to no avail. The rest of the deities screamed or pounded away on the thick glass. Meanwhile, fifty or so vampires and Uchben scrambled, preparing for some sort of offensive.
“Tell them to back down, Cimil! This instant! Or no more Minky visits!” Roberto roared.
“You wouldn’t dare!” she yelled back. “ ’Cause I’ll take away your Cimi-treats! Forever!” Cimil turned, bent over, and began shaking her rear. “No more for you, Roberto!”
“Cimil. Stop this instant!” Máax knocked loudly on the glass.
“Ain’t gonna happen!” Cimil popped up and began clapping rhythmically. “Party. Party. Party.”
Unbelievable.
Máax glanced over at Niccolo and the other soldiers who were preparing to detonate smoke bombs. He assumed those were what they’d used to knock out the gods during their summit meeting. Quite effective, yes, but putting his brethren to sleep would solve nothing. “Ain’t gonna happen. Party, party, party!” The chanting continued.
Máax took a deep breath, attempting to vanquish his fury and find a rational solution, but there was no getting around it. Not this time.
“Enough! I hope you’re all planning to live like hunted animals once you get out.” Máax’s livid voice echoed off the cement walls of the cavernous structure. “Because I promise, I’ll spare no one on Team Cimil from my wrath. No one!” He may not have his divine powers, but he still had strength. And he was invisible. It completely freaked their shit out.
From the thirteen holding cells, his brothers and sisters stared with wide turquoise eyes. It was the first time—well, ever really—that he’d seen them quiet.
Yeah. That’s what I thought. “I don’t care how many times I have to say this, but let’s get one thing straight: this fucking world ain’t over until I fucking say it’s over.”
“Hey! You stole my ain’t. That’s my word of the day!” Cimil whined.
“Shut up!” Máax said.
Cimil crossed her arms. “You can scream all you like, but I know what I saw, Máax. I see us fighting. I see the end. It’s completely pointless to try to stop it now. Game over! Party on!”
“And exactly who did you see fighting?” he seethed.
“Well”—Cimil scratched the corner of her mouth—“the vision merely showed me bits and pieces—kind of like ‘Chat Stew.’ Joel is my backup mate BTW should Roberto ever perish. So meaty.”
Roberto growled.
“What pieces did you see, Cimil?” Máax questioned impatiently.
“Well.” She tapped her cheek. “I see the vampires fighting the Uchben, and I see the gods with mates fighting the gods without.”
Oh, vomica no. “We wouldn’t all happen to be inside a prison, would we?”
Cimil gasped and her eyes lit up, but she didn’t reply.
“Cimiiiil?” Roberto warned.
Her mouth crinkled to one side. “Maybe?”
“Gods dammit, Cimil!” Máax screamed. “You mean to tell us that this entire time, your vision showed you this exact scenario playing out? This very scenario you’ve created? Did you ever stop to think that you were driving the apocalypse, Oh Bringer of the Apocalypse? Did you?”
She shrugged. “Oopsies?”
Máax hung his head. “We should’ve known better than to listen to you. Roberto, set them all free.”
Roberto looked crushed. “Oh, my love guppy of destruction, is this true? And I helped you?”
Máax glanced at the large, ancient vampire and frankly felt a little bad for him. Women were so damned complicated; he felt his pain. “Roberto, she’s the Goddess of the Underworld, the Bringer of the Apocalypse. Even when she wants to do the right thing, she cannot.”
“Let them free,” Roberto commanded his men in a melancholy tone.
The men quickly unlocked the cells and released the gods and four mates, Emma, Penelope, Maggie, and Antonio, who’d been holed up with their significant others.
Everyone gathered in the center of the cellblock, exchanging glances.
Cimil looked from side to side. “Dammit! This doesn’t make any sense! You’re all free, and there’s no change. We’re still going to die!”
Everyone threw up their hands and grumbled miserable thoughts.
“How do you know that?” Not like they could trust her visions anyway.
She murmured, “The dead don’t lie. Except on leap day. That’s not today. I checked.”
For once, Máax saw the plain truth in Cimil’s eyes, and she was just as heartbroken as everyone else. And though no one else caught it, Máax noticed Cimil rubbing her hand gingerly over her lower stomach.
O
h, saints. Cimil is pregnant? This just couldn’t be. Máax’s heart felt heavy and saturated, as if filled with lead. But if she were pregnant, then why was she advocating so strongly for throwing a party and giving up?
Perhaps she is not giving up at all. Quote, I am a complex creature, unquote. Was Cimil trying in her own way to fight the end? Yes, she loved parties, but she loved a happy ending more than anything in the world. It was her one saving grace. Even after she’d destroyed Chaam, she knew exactly how to save him. She’d personally given Máax the list of each and every woman who’d died, including where to find them prior to their deaths.
“Máax, I’m sorry.” Cimil sighed. “I really thought I was helping.”
“So what do we do now?” Niccolo asked Roberto. It was a damned good question. “The ship’s going to sink, and we have no clue as to why.”
Máax glanced at Cimil’s tormented face, and his gut told him to roll with it. Somehow, goodness always managed to blossom from the wreckage of her wake.
“I suggest,” Máax said, “we do what any family might and celebrate our blessings. We throw a party.”
Cimil pasted on a smile. “We’ll party like it’s 1999! Except for Ashli. She skipped that year.” Cimil looked at Colel, aka Bees. “Get your ass to Walmart. We’ve got decorating to do.”
“I cannot believe I’m agreeing to this.” But even Máax knew that sometimes, when all appeared hopeless, one simply needed to have faith.
Immediately after Máax had that flirty, young-looking vampire deposit Ashli in a room, the shocking events came crashing down. Being hunted by Death, the trip through time, becoming immortal, losing her home, Monkeyccino’s—cringe—vampires, gods, and the now-eminent apocalypse, which could have been avoided had she not traveled forward in time. But that was the irony of it all. Now that she’d had time to breathe, she saw the truth and knew in her heart Máax had been right; she wouldn’t have lived much longer had she stayed in 1993. Her dreams and near-death misses were proof of that.
So perhaps Máax really had done the only thing he could to save her. She just wished he’d spoken with her first instead of lying, and more importantly, she wished his choice to bring her forward hadn’t meant derailing all hope for mankind.
Bummer.
Nevertheless, Ashli was determined to find a way through this and pull herself together. Of course, her version of being “together” reminded her of a Rice Krispies Treat, bits and pieces stuck together with artificially sweetened goo.
Until Máax came along, she reminded herself.
He’d offered glimpses of what it felt like to be alive again. To not feel, well, gooey and patched together. That was the other epiphany she’d had. She realized that she’d physically walked away from that car accident so many years ago; however, her inner chutzpah had not. Sure, she still walked and talked and breathed like a living person, but that’s as far as it went. She’d completely closed herself off from the world. What had Máax called her? An emotional hermit who lived in the past. Well, he was right. And she didn’t want to be that person anymore. If the world was truly about to end, she wanted to leave it feeling like she’d conquered her demons. But how?
You need to embrace life and take this new chance you’ve been given, even if it’s a short one, she decided. Not that it meant she’d forgiven Máax.
There was a knock.
Boy, were the people around this parts friendly. In the last ten minutes alone, she’d had seven visitors.
Jeez. Ashli cracked open the door and peered into the hallway. A man with sandy-blond hair, medium height and build, wearing leather pants, stared down at her, grinning from ear to ear, flashing some major fang.
Another vampire? “Yes?” she asked, trying to hide her confusion.
“Just wanting to make sure you’re all right.”
“Yep.” She smiled. Awkward.
“And wondering if you need anything?” he asked.
“Oh. Thanks, but no. I’m great,” she replied.
He stared.
Weird. “Okay then.” She began to close the door. “Nice to meet—”
“Do women prefer flowers or chocolate? I met a woman, and I’d like to ask her out, but I’m not sure which she’ll prefer.”
Seriously? “Uhhh… I really don’t know. Maybe just ask her?” Ashli tried to close the door, but he stuck his foot in the opening.
“I can sift,” he said.
“Um. Cool.”
“If you help me, I can get you anything from anywhere,” he added.
Getting weirder. “That’s really generous, but I really don’t think I can. Good luck.” She closed the door and scratched her head. Was this normal behavior in this world?
There was yet another knock at the door. She opened it. “Listen, I really don’t need…” There was no one.
“Máax?”
She waited for a reply. If he was there, he wasn’t saying anything. Ashli then noticed a card and rectangular box wrapped in shimmery red paper on the floor. She picked it up and closed the door, locking it behind her.
The card was an invitation for a party tomorrow evening. A costume party? For the end of the world?
Your driver will pick you up at eight o’clock. I hope you like the dress.
Yours Forever,
Máax
Ashli opened the box. “Funny, Máax. Real funny.”
Eighteen
Ashli’s limo pulled up behind a long line of other flashy vehicles to the red carpet, where svelte men in crisp tuxedos lined the walkways and giant floodlights speared the desert night sky. It felt like a lavish Hollywood movie premiere until she noticed the crowd pouring inside. Unicorns, clowns, genies, kings, and queens, the costumes were elaborate and outrageous.
Great. I’m underdressed.
Ashli thanked her driver as an usher opened the door, and she made her way inside the grandiose ballroom. The dimly lit interior pulsed with loud music and flashing lights. Giant twenty-foot-high golden statues of several gods illuminated every corner. The ceiling was a radiant spectacle of thousands of sparkling white lights arranged into constellations and…
Googly-eyed unicorns?
There had to be at least a thousand people toasting, dancing, and laughing.
Flabbergasted, Ashli stepped aside and gawked at the river of people flowing by. Or fountain of people? Yes, a man dressed as a fountain, complete with running water spouting from the top of his head and a giant round basin to catch the flow, floated by right next to another woman riding a very tall… well, she didn’t know really, because there wasn’t actually anything there.
“Hello, Ashli. Welcome to the end of days party. What do you think?” Ashli looked up at two tall women. One wore a gold crown and short white dress, the other a giant—and she meant giant—beehive atop her head.
Ashli busted out laughing. “Oh! I get it. It’s a beehive hairdo. That costume is hysterica…” The beehive woman looked like she just might reach down and rip off Ashli’s eyebrows. “What? What did I say?”
The woman in white narrowed her eyes and poked an angry finger at Ashli’s chest. “That’s not a costume, you little twa…” She pulled back the offending finger and looked at the beehive lady. “Hey. Are you in the mood to write a poem? Or maybe braid each other’s hair?”
“Yeah. Actually, I am.” Beehive lady gave her little head a shake. Amazingly the hive stayed in place.
“Let’s go find Kinich and Votan,” said the woman in white. “They have long hair. Maybe they’ll want to join us.” She turned her attention back to Ashli. “As you for… we’ll let your little insult slide. But just this once.”
What was with these two? And why was everyone so into poetry, writing songs, and braiding hair?
A strong hand gripped Ashli’s arm. “Ashli,” said Máax in an amused tone. “I see you’ve met my sisters, Camaxtli, also known as Fate, and Colel, Mistress of Bees, who happens to have a hive living on her head.”
Ashli yanked her arm away. “T
hat one poked me.”
Máax leaned in. “Just ignore them. They’re jealous because they pale in comparison to your beauty.”
Then Ashli noticed something truly strange. Shocking, really. She was talking to Máax. Yes, Máax, an actual person whom she could see, standing right in front of her. His skin and hair had been painted gold. He wore sunglasses and a white toga. Ashli could see every bulging, rippling muscle shimmer as he moved. He was magnificent. And huge. Somehow he’d seemed smaller that day in the tub, but standing next to him made her feel like a toy Yorkie next to a pit bull. Only he did not look like a dog, but a god. A real-life god. And delicious. Those bare, broad, square shoulders that tapered into a tight waist; those thick, strong arms. Sigh. He was a sight of perfection. Every last inch. Was that gold paint edible? Had he painted his mandy bar, too?
“You look, um, amazing,” she said.
He looked down at his body. “Thank you. The idea came from you, actually. I cannot stop thinking about your special caramel body treatment.”
Caramel. Yes. She couldn’t stop thinking about that, either.
You’re an idiot! Look at you, pining for him. And appreciating. And thinking dirty, dirty thoughts about that mouth of his and the way it had kissed her. Or the way she’d kissed him back. Or how when she was around him, she became completely wild for him. Or when she’d pleasured him, he’d groaned in a voice so primal and masculine that she’d almost tumbled over the edge. Or the way he moved against her body and—
“Ashli? Did you hear what I said?” Máax asked.
Oh, had he been talking while she’d just snorkeled to the bottom of the gutter?
“I advise you to steer clear of those two sisters of mine. Or any of my brethren for that matter.” He rubbed his forehead, causing a bit of paint to streak just above his brow. “Thank the gods you’re immortal now.”
Immortal. Immortal. Still doesn’t feel real when I say it. Immooortal. Immooortal. Nope.