Sun God Seeks...surrogate? (5 page)

I took a quick sip of my extra-strong coffee taking comfort in its fortifying bitterness.

See. You could never say yes to Cimil. You’d have to quit coffee if you had a baby.

I stared at my constant companion for the last year. Coffee and I had done things. Been places. My bud.
I ran my finger lovingly down the side of the paper cup.
No, I could never give you up.

But that dream…You can’t deny that there’s a subliminal somethin’-somethin’ going on.

My mind quickly replayed the imaginary conversation. What did it mean?

Not everything is a battle of absolutes
…

Were they somewhere in between? Areas of gray?

What’s your gray, Penelope?

I bit my lower lip and took a sip of my rapidly cooling coffee.

“You know, Penelope,” said a deep male voice to my side, startling me from my personal force majeure. “Sometimes it’s best to treat fate like a Band-Aid.”

The man who’d answered the door the evening before stood next to me. Only this time he wore a black turtleneck (not a baby) and a full-length leather jacket.

His breath was thick as smoke when he said, “I am Andrus.”

He held out his leather-clad hand, and I immediately wondered if the gloves were meant to mask the creepy bite marks rather than shield his fingers from the formidable cold. He didn’t seem like the kind of man who got chilly.

He gave me the once over while we shook hands. “You’re going to catch a cold standing out here in that,” he pointed out.

I’d worn my jeans and faux–fur lined boots with a white sweater. My parka was tied around my waist. “Not really the high nail on my list of worries.”

He nodded and then shifted his gaze toward the front door of Cimil’s house. “Take it from me, life never turns out as one expects, but the sooner you let go of what should be, the sooner you’ll see the forest through the trees.”

“Great,” I said, “just what I needed…life lessons brought to you by the bumper sticker.”

He laughed at that.

“Who is she?” I asked.

He smirked and rubbed his black stubble-covered jaw. “She’s someone extremely powerful. And someone who knows what you need even before you do.”

Well, la-di-da! Didn’t that make it all better?

“And what exactly did
you
need?” I asked, wondering why anyone would choose to have someone like Cimil in their life.

He scratched his sprouting beard again. “To heal a piece of me that was broken long ago.”

“How’s that workin’ out for ya?”

He smiled, a bright glowing, heartfelt smile. “Well. Really, really well.”

“Sorry, buddy. Not drinking the Kool-Aid.”

“Kool-Aid?” he asked.

“Never min…” I turned to fully face him. It was then that I noticed his eyes were an inconceivable amalgamation of light blues and greens, almost iridescent.

Just like Cimil and her brother.

I swallowed my shiver. Something about these people felt…different. Very, very different. “I’m not in Kansas anymore, am I, Andrus?”

“No, Dorothy. You are not.”

CHAPTER 5

“What do you mean, ‘He’s not coming’?” I said. “I came to hear him out, just like you asked.”

Cimil sat at her desk, flipping through the pages of the same thick book she’d been reading the night before. “You will meet with him tonight
before
you say yes or no. That is my one condition to your keeping half the money.”

“Fine.” That would be easy enough. And, I had to admit, the part of me that craved to see him again was hula hooping.

Her finger carefully skimmed a page and then stopped on a word. “There’s more. How could I forget?” Her head snapped up.

Here come the strings. I knew it!
Would she ask me to ride a pink pogo stick to this meeting? Perhaps I needed to be escorted by clowns. Clothed, of course.

“Yes?” I replied.

“I’ve got something for you.” She reached to her side and began fishing through a drawer. “Oh pickle. Where is it?” She pulled out a Slinky, a Taser, a pack of Bubblicious gum, and a pink Troll—the kind you put over a pencil eraser. “Ah! Here it is.” She plunked down a large three-ring binder, labeled “Handbook.” “You must read this before tonight.”

She’d been serious about the handbook? “You’re not telling me there’s really going to be a pop quiz, too?”

Cimil’s eyes glowed with wicked joy. “You’re off the hook. Rochell, who handles that little tidbit of fun, is resting after an unfortunate Twister mishap at last night’s party.” She shrugged. “Strippers. Policemen. They all look the same to me. Especially after you steal their clothes and grease them up. Yunno what I mean?”

I blinked as my mind tried to form a cohesive connection between those thoughts. I was coming up blank. “No. No, I do not.”
Moving on…
“What sort of handbook is this?”

“The kind that will give you answers, silly. For things.” Long awkward pause. “What else?”

Well, that was vague. And weird. Just like this entire depraved situation. “Okeydokey. Anything else?” I asked.

She laughed hysterically for several moments and then shook her finger. “You! You’re a firecracker. Kaablam! Pow! Fire! Cracker!” She paused and stared at the ceiling, completely checked out.

Damn, she freaked me out. “Are we…done?”

She burst back to life. “Yep. Here’s the address and time.” She handed me a slip of paper from the pocket of her pink satin jumpsuit.

I snatched it from her hand, swiped the handbook, and prepared to flee. I wanted to skedaddle before this got any weirder or she tied any more strings to this little bunny.

“Penelope,” she bellowed as I was almost home free and out the front door.

I cringed and turned to find her scampering after me.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” she asked.

Oh jeez.

“The check.” She shoved it at me. “And buy yourself something nice for tonight. It’s your birthday.”

Thanks for the reminder.
I put the check in my purse and gave her a polite smile as I reached for the door. Then I paused, fighting the urge to kick my own tuchus.

Dammit.
I couldn’t leave without saying something. As awkward and ludicrous as the situation might be, she was about to help my mother.

I took a deep breath and faced her. “Cimil, I know you’re not doing this to help my mom, but I wanted to thank you, anyway.”

She flashed another wicked smile. “Don’t mention it. Helpful is my middle name—except on Saturdays. Then it’s Jaaaasmine…” She waved her hand in a semicircle through the air.

It was actually Saturday, but I thought it best not to say anything.

“Any hooo”—she shrugged—“you’ll pay me back someday. They always do.”

I didn’t like that answer one little bit. In fact, my body lit up with tiny adrenaline-fueled tingles. Why did this woman evoke the fight or flight—mostly flight—response?

I scrambled out the door.

“And, Penelope…” she called out when I reached the bottom of her front steps.

No, no, no. More strings.
I reached for the wrought iron railing at my side to steady me.

“There are three rules…”

“I ask you to leave here tonight, you knew it was planned

When the world takes your heart from the fight

You do what you can,

You’re living here lost in this land

So brother, don’t force my hand

Please let’s see the forest for the trees

’Cause it’s time to rise up, it’s time to rise up from your knees
”

— Pilot Speed

CHAPTER 6

Kinich. December 1, 9:30 p.m.

Grinding his teeth, Kinich watched his brother, the infamous God of Death and War, stroll into the trendy Manhattan hotel bar with an expression on his face that could, well, kill. The maître d’ took one look at the towering mass of muscles donning an Armani suit, and thick black hair wild and loose, and practically dove out of the way. The crowd parted like the Red Sea, leaving a trail of gaping-mouthed females in this muscled man’s wake. Like all gods, if he did not leash his energy, humans of the opposite sex—sometimes of the same sex, too—turned into rioting, sexually flustered mobs.

“Good evening, Kinich.” Votan took the barstool to his side.

“Nice of you to come, brother, but must you always flaunt your powers in public?” Kinich scolded to hide his uneasiness. Votan was the one brother whom he admired and respected above all others. But this was not a conversation either would enjoy. Kinich could only hope that Votan’s sense of duty would prevail over his anger.

“Can’t help it. It is impossible to contain such strength inside this humanlike body.” Votan stretched his neck from side to side.

“Perhaps you need to return to our realm for a vacation,” Kinich suggested.

“I cannot. Emma has forbidden it until things are”—Votan cleared his throat—“settled. So what’s your excuse? Why haven’t you returned?”

“I have been spending time with an old friend—a very old friend. One who may help us with the Obscuro problem.”

“Who is he?”

“I am unable to discuss the details, Votan—”

“I no longer go by that name,” Votan snarled.

“Ah yes.” Kinich stifled a laugh. “You’ve chosen a new name. What is it that Emma calls you?”

Kinich knew, but enjoyed egging his brother on.

“Guy. She calls me Guy.”

“Very modern,” Kinich said teasingly.

The bartender tiptoed over like a gazelle about to serve two hungry lions. Kinich ordered a bottle of Chateau Petrus 2008.

Guy raised his two dark brows. “Yes. I bloody well like my new name. Nick, is it?”

“Touché.” Only his brothers and sisters called him Kinich. Everyone else called him Nick. But the gods had many, many names, depending on the culture. Votan, on the other hand, now had just one: Guy. Guy Santiago. Not very deity-like, but whatever. Didn’t change his gifts: killing and fighting.

“And why are you trying to butter me up with a three thousand dollar bottle of wine this evening?” Guy asked.

No use in beating around the bush.
“This.” Kinich held out the black jade amulet Cimil had given him and each of the gods at her party.

Guy sneered. “Thanks, I’m flattered, but I have several already…and a mate.”

Kinich growled deep in his chest. “This isn’t a fucking joke, Guy.”

The bartender quietly crept up and served them each a glass a wine.

Guy thanked the man and then swilled the ruby red liquid in his mouth before responding. “I’m well aware of your feelings, Kinich; Cimil warned me, but you are mistaken in your point of view. Chaam did not turn evil because of the black jade. He was already fucked in the head when he discovered it.”

Chaam was the God of Male Virility who’d found the black jade mines in southern Mexico. The jade had the ability to absorb and blunt the gods’ powerful energy in the physical world. With it, Chaam discovered he could be intimate and procreate with humans; both acts were an impossibility for any deity up until that point because prolonged contact with a god overloaded a human’s circuits, so to speak.

But no one knew for certain what caused Chaam to turn against humanity. Kinich still reeled with horror every time he thought of the hundreds of women Chaam had used to provide him with female offspring whom they called Payals. Eventually, he would slaughter his female descendants and harvest their divine energy to fuel his apocalyptic weapons. A complicated, horrific mess.

“You are correct; the jade is not to blame for what happened to Chaam.” Kinich sipped his wine. He much preferred a fine tequila or cognac—anything that burned, actually. “However, even Cimil admits she does not know the consequences of our using it. She thinks screwing humans is a recreation, like driving her latest new car.”

“I assure you, screwing my fiancée is infinitely more enjoyable than a new Pagani—and trust me, I know. I have three. Paganis that is. Not fiancées. Emma would kill me if I ever looked at another woman.”

Emma, one of the surviving Payals, was Guy’s new fiancée and the love of his existence. His devotion to her went beyond disturbing and disgraceful. Guy pranced around like a sappy, lovesick fool.

Sad. Simply…sad.
Kinich shook his head in disgust.

“What?” Guy barked defensively, misinterpreting Kinich’s reaction. “I won the cars in a poker game from Cimil. But damn her, if she hasn’t taken every automobile, carriage, and horse I’ve owned for the last three centuries. It was about damn time I won.”

“Idiot. Cimil sees the future. She let you win.”

“Who cares?” Guy shrugged. “They’re Paganis. But still—nowhere near as enjoyable as a night with Emma.”

“Yes, Emma is indeed special, brother. But there will be consequences for bringing more Payals into this world. This black jade is nothing but a test—if we were meant to bear offspring, the Creator simply would have given us the ability.”

Guy ran his hand through his long black hair. “We’re hardly in a position to guess the Creator’s intentions. And who’s to say this is not fate playing its hand, guiding us into a new era of our existence?”

“Or leading us to destruction,” Kinich argued. “The universe is in a state of cataclysmic imbalance. If we do not intervene, the Maaskab will overrun the planet.”

The Maaskab, a cult of dark priests, descendants of the Maya and secretly ruled by Chaam before the gods managed to imprison him, grew more powerful by the day. Kinich suspected the Payals were somehow linked.

Guy sighed with irritation. “What is it that you want, Kinich?”

“I’m going to call it to a vote in the next summit. Creating offspring will be forbidden, punishable by banishment to the human world for eternity.”