Vampires Need Not...Apply

Chapter Veintidós

Antonio’s family lived about an hour northwest of Barcelona in one of the oldest winemaking regions of Europe near Vilafranca del Penedès. The area also held the distinction of housing the Santa Maria de Montserrat abbey, home to the world’s oldest, functioning printing press and the sacred Black Madonna. Ironically, it had been the monastery Francisco belonged to. Maybe that’s why Ixtab hadn’t visited this place for centuries and opted to spend most of her time in densely populated cities that provided plentiful distractions from her woes.

As the town car wound up the tree-lined hillside, neat little rows of skeletal, hibernating vines blanketing every visible mile, she couldn’t help but remember how the world once looked. Life was so much simpler before its taming. For humans and for deities.

Really now? Back then, only the most powerful and wealthy of humans were entitled to a good life free from starvation, tyranny, and oppression. And modern medicine, well, what a horrible misery life was for the masses before its existence. There was a time, not so long ago, that mothers watched their children die from the flu. They were lucky if a few survived to adulthood. Yes, everyone struggled. As for deities, well, back then, life wasn’t a box of assorted doughnuts, either, now that she really thought about it. Unlike her other brethren, her power of releasing one’s soul from darkness required a more… personal touch, one might say. Long journeys over oceans on rickety wooden boats, weeks on horseback or by foot, it could take twelve months to travel from the portal in Mexico to eastern Europe or Asia.

Funny how one always yearned for the past, simpler times, but conveniently forgot the difficulties. That was her problem, really. Wasn’t it? She lived in the past, a made-up, perfect past with Francisco. But it didn’t exist. It never had. And now she was throwing away something real for a fantasy. Yes, there was a reason she called out Francisco when Antonio had been touching her so intimately. In her heart, she truly hadn’t let go. What she needed to do was live in the present. Not the past, not the future where one hopes for better days ahead, but the present. Because now is all anyone truly has.

Okay, well right now, you need to get your groveling speech ready.

Right.

Ixtab flipped open the manila folder she’d been carrying in her bag and thumbed through Antonio’s file once again. Penelope had supplied it several weeks ago, but for some reason, she hadn’t given it much thought. It was one of the more fascinating mortal family histories, with generations of royalty dating back to the 700s. What struck her as odd, however, wasn’t their exaggerated wealth—they had more money, land, and assets across the globe than the world’s largest company—but that over the last several centuries, they’d stayed out of the limelight. No political ties, no newspaper articles, no Oprah specials. And humans were obsessed with such powerful families—the Kennedys, the English royal family, the Gates, the Wiggles—but the Aceros were an unknown.

Ixtab gazed out the tinted window of the backseat. Though the day was sunny, the cold seeped through the glass. Or maybe something else caused the chill in her bones. As the car passed the open gates, with the name Acero in wrought iron proudly arched over the lane, she distinctly felt the growing presence of a dark energy. Her teeth began to chatter.

“Le subo la temperatura, señorita?” asked the driver.

“No, gracias.” He could raise the thermostat to one hundred and it wouldn’t make a lick of a difference. For whatever reason Antonio came here, she now knew it wouldn’t be good. No mortal, or immortal for that matter, would want to come here. Yet this is his home? He grew up here?

The car traveled along the hillside overlooking acres of slumbering vines below until they reached another gate, this one closed. The driver pulled up to the intercom and lowered his window.

Before he spoke, the spiked iron gates slid open, creaking and whining the entire way as if setting the scene for a horror movie about to unravel.

Damn. This place was creepy. And this coming from the Goddess of Suicide.

The car pulled forward to an empty, gravel-covered, circular driveway. The large three-story home—a simple Spanish-style with tiled, arched doorways and wrought iron balconies with flowing red vines—had to be a hundred-plus years old.

The flutter of a curtain from the top story window caught Ixtab’s eye, but the face quickly shrank back into the shadows. Ixtab’s heart plucked away at an unsteady rhythm inside her chest. Why was she so nervous? Was it the darkness she sensed or the fact that she was about to see Antonio?

She slipped from the car and grabbed her bag from the Uchben driver, who of course knew the drill. “Gracias. Y quédate circa, por favor.”

The driver nodded and indicated he’d stay in the nearby town. Good. Who knew how long she would be here. Five minutes or five weeks. Whatever it took to make things right with Antonio.

She walked up and rang the doorbell, but no one came. They’d already seen her arrive, so why not? Did Antonio simply think she’d scamper away?

She waited another moment and decided to open it herself. Heck, she was a deity. Leave the social norms to the humans.

“Hello?” The oxidized hinges of the thick wooden door creaked as she stepped inside the dimly lit entryway with a vaulted ceiling. The floor was tiled with faded blue and reddish-brown Moroccan tiles, and to each side, a grand tiled staircase curved up to a landing.

She dropped her bag next to the large potted plant and gazed up. “Hello?” she called out.

A burst of warm air collided with her face and sent her mind spinning. The aroma carried memories with it. Powerful memories. The smell of roasting chili peppers and dried flowers from the market in Santiago where she’d once strolled with Francisco. The smell of rosemary and lemons—Francisco always smelled of the tonics used to bathe the sick.

Dammit, goddess. You have to let go! You will lose Antonio if you don’t.

“May I help you?”

Ixtab jumped.

A petite woman with one lazy eye and dark hair pulled back, wearing a traditional maid’s uniform, appeared.

“I’m here to see Antonio,” Ixtab said.

The woman’s one good eye scrutinized Ixtab’s draping, black outfit.

“It’s all the rage in Paris,” Ixtab said dryly. “Let me know if you want me to hook you up. But I warn you, prepare to be mobbed by flocks of nude male models.”

The woman narrowed her one good eye. “I am Kirstie. Follow me, please.”

That seemed like an oddly peppy name for such a sour-looking woman. “Fine, your loss, Kirstie; I can’t seem to keep the hotties off me.” Of course, they all die, but who’s asking?

The woman led Ixtab up the right-hand staircase to where the landing expanded into a great room with Saltillo tiles, a large fireplace, and a sitting area that connected to a long hallway with large windows to one side and arched doorways leading to other rooms. “Wait here, please.”

Ixtab took a seat on the soft white sofa and watched the strange woman disappear down the hallway.

Antonio appeared out of nowhere. “Why the hell are you here?”

Christ! Ixtab jumped again. What was with these people sneaking up?

Ixtab looked at Antonio and instantly melted. A barrage of emotions and sensations washed over her. One out of the three was naughty.

Number one: Not naughty. Seeing Antonio again instantly loosened that horrible tension constricting the flow of energy in her chest. She could finally breathe again, and her heart fluttered away at a cheerful pace as if it were clapping and jumping up and down, overwhelmed with jubilation.

Number two: Not naughty. She couldn’t help but take notice of how tired Antonio looked. It saddened her because she knew this was her doing. She’d chased him away, wounded his pride. He was the one person in all the world she’d give anything to make happy, yet she’d done the opposite.

Number three: Naughty. Her girly goddess parts started a little square dance. Despite his worn appearance, he still looked delicious. He’d ditched the sexy leather pants for a pair of his trademark faded jeans and a navy-blue Hollister tee that one might accuse of being one size too small. Not Ixtab, however. At the first moment possible, she’d find a lame excuse to get him to reach for something, somewhere on a very high shelf, which would allow her a peek of his sleek, sexy lower abs that she already knew included a manly trail of dark hair leading the way to a very wonderful place.

Stop that. You came to grovel and come clean with him. This is your chance.

“You still haven’t eaten, have you?” she asked.

“You came all this way to nag me?” He crossed his thick arms over his wide chest.

“No. I came to…” Beg you to forgive me. “… Talk. Can we go somewhere more private, Antonio?” She knew that creepy Kirstie lurked in the shadows, listening.

Antonio’s deep green eyes narrowed. “You remembered my name. How gracious of you, Oh Divine One.”

Ixtab’s entire face tightened with the jab. “I deserved that. I know. But if you could give me ten—or fifteen—actually, given my age and the length of the story, I might need sixty minutes. Each day. For a week.”

He frowned and made a little “no way” grumble.

“Please? Besides, if you don’t hear me out, your cougar fantasies may never come true.”

He gripped his waist with one hand. “A seventy-thousand-year-old isn’t even close to ‘ cougar.’ You’re more saber-toothed tiger.”

Touché. “And yet, I wager you to find a female of legal age purer than me.” She raised her eyebrows. “Pure as the driven snow, and more eager to melt than Thanksgiving turkey.”

A flicker of amusement danced in his eyes. “Sorry. Not into poultry.”

“How about gravy?” she asked.

“No.”

“Ah yes. A vegetarian. Pumpkin pie, then?” Yumm… who could resist?

“Not hungry.”

Okay. This conversation had taken a very odd culinary detour and was heading for a dark cavern filled with lonely, cold nights.

She sighed, reached out, and placed her hand on his bulky upper arm. How she’d missed touching him. Gods, it was euphoric. “Please. I don’t want to talk about holiday dinners. I just want a few minutes. Listen to what I have to say, and then I’ll leave if you like. It’s important.”

His harsh expression instantly softened. And dammit if she didn’t see the bags under his eyes disappear. Or had she imagined it? It was as if he’d suddenly transformed into a vision of vampire health. Even that hard line of lips now held a hint of curve on one side.

Ixtab yippeed on the inside. He’s happy! He’s happy to see me!

“My quarters are this way.” He bowed his head and gestured toward the hallway. “After you.”

She passed him and felt his eyes burning into her. “I see you’ve reverted back to your original costume,” he said.

She smiled brightly. “Just wait until you see what I haven’t got on underneath.”

That ought to shut him up.

It did.

How the hell did she know he’d be there? Hell, not even he expected to be there. Five minutes after he’d left the villa in Bacalar, unsure he’d ever be able to bear the sight of the goddess again—because surely her “slip” had been meant as a slight, intended to put him in his place for what he’d done to her—he had received the call and then gotten on the next flight out.

So why the hell had she come? Was it to insist the humiliation ritual continue? If yes, the goddess had another thing coming. She could bring down a rain of locusts or peppercorns or… whatthehellever, and it wouldn’t change his mind. He was done with these ridiculous deities because his fucking time was up. With that one phone call back in Bacalar, everything in his world had changed; the day he’d spent a lifetime fearing had finally arrived, and now nothing mattered. Only opening that portal.

He followed her into his room, a large suite toward the back of the estate on the third floor overlooking the vineyard. Though he hadn’t been home in over six years, they’d kept it ready. It was a sign his father knew this day would come and he’d return. “You cannot negate your duty any more than you can the Acero blood flowing through your veins. Doesn’t matter how far you run, there isn’t anywhere I can’t find you.”

But Antonio, from the moment he’d understood what it truly meant to be an Acero, hoped he’d find a way for him and his brother to escape the path so many had taken before. He had much higher hopes for their humanity.

Antonio shut the door behind him and scrutinized the woman draped in bulky layers of black lace. By now, however, he’d learned not to judge an Ixtab book by its Ixtab cover. Underneath the facade of a woman resembling an old-world widow from Italy was an ancient, immortal female with a tongue as sharp as a sword and equally capable of taking down a man. And from the first moment she’d touched him, he realized her hold over him was slightly more dangerous; he was addicted to something within her.

And I hate her for it.

Not only was she distracting him from his fate, but she’d humiliated him. Called him Francisco of all the goddamned, pinche names in the word. Perhaps it served him right; what had he been thinking becoming intimate with her? She’s nothing but an evil goddess. A distraction who pleasured in his suffering from day one. A monster. Just like her sister said.

He crossed his arms and leaned against the door, putting as much distance between them as possible. “All right. We are somewhere private. Now, speak. Why the diablos are you here, woman?”

“Woman?” It had been eons since anyone had called her that.

His eyes narrowed. “Cut the mierda, goddess. Are you here to humiliate me further?”

Ixtab’s eyes surveyed the sparsely decorated room. A large bed and a sitting area, no personal belongings—similar to his apartment in New York. It was as if he rejected the notion of having a real home. Why?

“No,” she said, “I don’t want to humiliate you. I’m here because I want to tell you that—”

“I have every intention of unlocking the portal,” he interrupted. “So you’ve wasted your time coming here if it was to convince me to continue my work.”

His vampire sass began to boil her blood. “If you cut me off one more time, I swear I’ll… sizzle your man junk with an assorted array of spicy seasoning. I came to apologize. And because I thought you might need my help.”

“Actually”—he dropped his arms and walked toward the large glass double doors leading toward his private balcony—“I made significant progress last night. Alone.” He yanked open the doors and stepped outside.

The winter sun hit him directly in the face, but he didn’t shirk away. How strange. He seemed to bask in the warm rays like a mortal. Normally, vampires avoided the sun, given how it drained their power.

He glanced at her from outside. “You’ve got ten minutes. Then you need to leave.”

Grrr…

Deep breath. Patience…

Ixtab blinked and followed him outside. “All right. But no interrupting. Got it?” He didn’t reply so she took it as a yes and began telling Antonio about the man she once loved. Two hundred years ago she’d found him, a Benedictine monk who had forsaken his family to help the destitute, the lost, and the sick. “It wasn’t what one might expect or see in a corny mortal movie,” she explained. “A fatal illness had ravaged Chile. Most hard-hit was Santiago, and those who remained were stricken with grief. I worked day and night, helping to clear out their darkness so that those who lived could move on. Everywhere I went, I saw him. The poorest of neighborhoods, the makeshift hospitals, the churches where the living gathered to mourn. He was everywhere, fearless, holding the hands of the dying until their time came. I watched from a distance at first, but after a week, I could not ignore him. Something about his light drew me in.”

Ixtab held back a sob. She’d never told anyone the entire story—not even Kinich—and now, reliving it brought her back to that exact moment in time. Fresh as yesterday.

“He and I became friends—more than friends, really. I wanted him. He wanted me. But I knew being with a man wasn’t possible. Still, he insisted we were meant to be together. He begged me to kiss him, touch him, and swore there was nothing to fear; fate had brought us together. Though I didn’t tell him I was a goddess, I did tell him I was… different. Poison. He didn’t care. His conviction, his willingness to leave his life behind for me”—she looked into Antonio’s intensely focused eyes—“was so strong that I believed he was right.” Ixtab made a pathetic little shrug. “Until he touched me. Before I realized he’d been wrong, he’d made it to the cupboard and swallowed rat poison. I did everything I could, but he died.”

Ixtab held her breath for several moments before she finally gathered the will to tell the next part of the story; he looked like Francisco.

She took a deep breath. “This is why—”

“I get it,” he interrupted. “You’ve got a history. A painful one. And you still love this man. So let me ease your suffering from believing you need to put me out of my misery and let me down easily. I’m not interested in you.”

Ouch. “You’re not?”

“No.” His gaze was cool and sure. “The other night was nothing more than a fulfillment of an obligation for your silly immortal groveling ritual.”

Double ouch. He’d only made a move on her because he felt he had to and not because he wanted to? It was exactly what she’d been afraid of.

Ixtab mentally crumbled underneath her veil. “I see,” she muttered.

He cleared his throat. “And though I’m very sorry for what you’ve been through, for your loss, you’re not the only one who has a past filled with painful secrets.”

“Such as?”

“If that were any of your damned business, I would have told you by now.”

Reason number nine–somethingorother that vampires are icky: they can be so damned cold for no apparent reason.

Ugh! Well, she’d had just about enough of that. “Mr. Icky Vampire, may I remind you that you’re speaking to a deity. And while I realize your brain may be running at half steam because you’ve yet to feed and that you’re angry about the little name slipup, if you speak to me like that again, I will punish you.”

Antonio stepped in and closed the space between them. “Be my guest,” he snarled.

H-h-he’s daring me? Me? “Don’t say I didn’t warn you…” Ixtab reached out, intending to give him a little taste of something she liked to call… an Ixtab spanking: a hint of chili pepper. In his nether region. After all, what was the use of being the goddess of natural seasoning if you couldn’t deploy the power of the chili pepper on command?

But as she reached, Antonio caught her hand. He stared down at her, fuming. Several angry moments passed, him studying her. Her studying him.

“What’s really under that veil, Ixtab?” he whispered. “What are you afraid of?”

“Why are you really so angry at me?”

“You first,” he growled.

Gods, he was gorgeous. The way his upper lip with that pronounced dip in the middle twitched when he was mad. The way those deep green eyes flickered to black as he lost control. The way the pulse in his neck visibly strummed away. She loved seeing him so full of… life.

What an odd thought. Vampires weren’t full of life. Antonio is.

“I’m not afraid. I’m a goddess. I fear nothing.” Except perhaps losing you…

“Really, now?” A resentful laugh bubbled from his lips. “Prove it. Take it off.”

Could she let him see her? Yes, she’d already determined that she wanted him to look into her eyes and truly see who she was on the inside. She wanted to know if he was her mate, because standing before him, she now knew she wanted him with every spark of her immortal light.

“Remove it yourself,” she said, lifting her chin.

He didn’t hesitate for a moment to grab for the lace. But just as he began to tug, he stopped. His face turned pale.

“What are you waiting for?” she said.

He didn’t respond.

“Are you afraid you’ll hate what you see?”

He dropped his hand and stepped back. “I need to go and see my father.” He turned toward the door.

“Wait.”

He stopped in the doorway, but didn’t turn around. She watched him take several breaths. “I’m not afraid,” he said, “that I’ll hate what I see—it’s the opposite. And right now, I cannot afford any distractions. Too much is at stake.”

Ixtab’s pulse quickened with his admission. He considered her a temptation? She felt the rush of hope gushing through her veins.

Yes! Disco dance!

And the feeling in her chest was a sure sign that her heart had finally healed. Dare she even believe the Universe cared about someone like her, that she, too, deserved to be happy and have love?

An odd tension filled the air, and she sensed the dark thoughts spinning over his head like a tornado of despair. What was he afraid of?

She walked over and placed her hand on his back. Gods, she couldn’t get enough of this, of touching him. “Why? Why are you really afraid to see me?”

Finally, he let out a sigh. “You should know that one of the reasons I’m working on the tablet is because the woman I am destined to be with is on the other side of that portal. And while I admit I feel a certain… attraction for you, I know it isn’t real. You are not her.” He walked away, leaving Ixtab there to digest those words all alone.