Jean Pamfiloff - Vampires Need Not...Apply

Another step.

“Because”—Granny flashed an odious grin—“the victory of defeating you will be meaningless without our beloved king to see it. All we do, we do for him.”

Ew. Okay.

“You, on the other hand…” She lowered her gravelly voice one octave. “… Do not have a chance without your men. We offer a fair fight in exchange for our king’s freedom.”

Okay. She could be lying. Perhaps not. Anyone with a brain could see they were three inexperienced young women—yes, filled with passion and purpose and a love of shoes and all things shopping, in the case of Helena and Emma—but they didn’t know the first thing about fighting wars. Especially ones that might end in a big hairy apocalypse prophesied to be just eight months away.

Sure, they had powerful, slightly insane, dysfunctional deities and battalions of beefy vampires and human soldiers on their side. However, that was like giving a tank to a kindergartner. Sort of funny in a Sunday comics Beetle Bailey kinda way, but not in real life.

“Don’t agree to it,” Helena pleaded from the flank. “We’ll find another way to free them.”

“She’s right, Pen,” Emma whimpered, clearly in pain.

Penelope took another step. They were right; they’d have to find some other way to get the prisoners back. Chaam was too dang dangerous. “And if we refuse?”

The Maaskab woman laughed into the air above, her teeth solid black and the inside of her mouth bright red.

Yum. Nothing like gargling with blood to really freshen your breath.

“Then,” Granny said, “we shall kill both men—yes, even your precious Votan; we have the means—and the end of days will begin. It is what Chaam would have wanted.”

Granny had conveniently left out the part about killing her and her friends before she departed this room. Why else would the evil Maaskab woman have come in person when an evil note would have done the evil job? Or how about an evil text?

No. Emma’s grandmother would kill them if the offer was rejected. She knew it in her gut.

Penelope didn’t blink. No fear. No fear. The powerful light tingled on the tips of her fingers. She was ready.

“Then you leave us no choice. We agree.” Penelope held out her hand. “Shake on it.”

The Maaskab woman glanced down at Pen’s hand. Pen lunged, grabbed the woman’s soot-covered forearm, and opened the floodgates of heat. Evil Granny dropped to her knees, screaming like a witch drowning in a hot, bubbling cauldron.

“No! No!” Emma screamed. “Don’t kill her! Don’t, Pen!”

Crackers! Penelope released the woman who fell face forward onto the cold Saltillo tile. Steam rose from her naked back and dreadlock-covered skull.

“Grandma? Oh, God, no. Please don’t be dead.” Emma dropped to her knees beside the eau-de-charred roadkill. “She’s still breathing.”

The room suddenly filled with Penelope’s private guards. They looked like they’d been chewed up and spit out by a large Maaskab blender—tattered, dirty clothes and bloody faces.

That explained what had taken so long; they must’ve been outside fighting more Maaskab.

The men pointed their rifles at Emma’s unconscious grandmother. Zac, God of Who the Hell Knew and Penelope’s right hand since she’d been appointed the interim leader of the gods—yes, yes, another long story—blazed into the room, barking orders. “Someone get the Maaskab chained up.”

Zac, dressed in his usual black leather pants and tee combo that matched his raven-black hair, turned to Penelope and gazed down at her with his nearly translucent, aquamarine eyes. “Are you all right?”

Penelope nodded. It was the first time in days she’d felt glad to see him. He’d been suffocating her ever since Kinich—

“Oh, gods!” They’d completely forgotten about Kinich!

Her eyes flashed up at the clock.

Tick.

Sundown.

A gut-wrenching howl exploded from the other room. Everyone stiffened.

“He’s alive!” Pen turned to rush off but felt a hard pull on her arm.

“No. You’ve had enough danger for one day. I will go.” Zac wasn’t asking.

Penelope jerked her arm away. “He won’t hurt me. I’ll be fine. Just stay here and help Emma with her grandmother.” She snatched up the two bags of blood from the floor where Helena had dropped them.

“Penelope, I will not tell you again.” Zac’s eyes filled with anger. Though he was her right hand, he was still a deity and not used to being disobeyed.

“Enough.” Penelope held up her finger. “I don’t answer to you.”

Zac’s jealous eyes narrowed for a brief moment before he stiffly dipped his head and then quietly watched her disappear through the doorway.

She rushed down the hallway and paused outside the bedroom with her palms flat against the hand-carved double doors. The screams had not stopped.

Thank the gods that Kinich, the ex–God of the Sun, was alive. Now they would have a chance to put their lives back together, to undo what never should have been—such as putting her in charge of his brothers and sisters—and she would finally get the chance to tell him how much she loved him, how grateful she was that he’d sacrificed everything to save them, about their baby.

This was their second chance.

She only needed to get him through these first days as a vampire. And orchestrate a rescue mission for the God of Death and War and the General of the Vampire Army. And deal with the return of Emma’s evil granny. And figure out how to stop an impending apocalypse set to occur in eight—yes, eight!—months. And deal with a few hundred women with amnesia they’d rescued from the Maaskab. And manage a herd of insane egocentric, accident-prone deities, with ADHD. And carry a baby. And don’t forget squeezing in some time at the gym. Your thighs are getting flabby!

“See? This Kinich vampire thing should be easy,” she assured herself.

She pushed open the door to find Kinich shirtless, writhing on the bed. His muscular legs and arms strained against the silver chains attached to the deity-reinforced frame. He was a large, beautiful man, almost seven feet in height, with shoulders that spanned a distance equal to two widths of her body.

“Kinich!” She rushed to his side. “Are you okay?” She attempted to brush his gold-streaked locks from his face, but he flailed and twisted in agony.

“It burns!” he wailed. “The metal burns.”

“I know, honey. I know. But Helena says you need to drink before we can let you go. Full tummy. Happy vamp—”

“Aaahh! Remove them. They burn. Please,” he begged.

Oh, saints.

He would never hurt her. Would he? Of course not.

“Try to hold still.” She went to the dresser, pulled open the top drawer, and grabbed the keys.

She rushed to his ankle and undid one leg, then the other.

Kinich stopped moving. He lay there, eyes closed, breathing.

Without hesitation she undid his right arm and then ran to the other side to release the final cuff.

“Are you okay? Kinich?”

Without opening his eyes, he said, “I can smell and hear everything.”

Helena had said that blocking out the noise was one of the hardest things a new vampire had to learn. That and curbing their hunger for innocent humans who, she was told, tasted the yummiest. Helena also mentioned to always make sure he was well fed. Full tummy, happy vampire. Just like a normal guy except for the blood obviously.

Penelope deposited herself on the bed next to Kinich with a bag of blood in her hands. “You’ll get used to it. I promise. In the meantime, let’s get you fed. I have so much to—”

Kinich threw her down, and she landed on her back with a hard thump and the air whooshed from her lungs.