Jean Pamfiloff - Vampires Need Not...Apply

He shifted in his chair. “Yeah. That’s right. Jerry’s the name.”

Ixtab slid off her veil.

The man jerked his head back and then flashed a lusty grin. “But hey, baby, you can call me anything you want.”

Ixtab leaned down, putting them at a breath’s distance, and stared into his pupils. Ah, the eyes. They never lie. Sometimes they showed an image of what one might become later in life, but this guy? Nada. The only thing to gaze upon was his bleak soul and the reflection of her own turquoise eyes.

“Baby, huh? Aren’t you sweet?” She smiled and placed her index finger on the tip of his chin. The man’s mouth dropped open and she popped the pills inside. He instantly convulsed and frothed from the mouth.

“How about I call you dead?” she seethed.

The man leaned forward, pulled a knife from his boot, and stabbed himself in the heart. He dropped to floor.

“That’ll teach you to sell drugs to children, you shit.” Ixtab turned toward the crowd who sat motionless in their chairs. “Wow. I really do feel better! Thanks for letting me crash your Road Ragers Anonymous meeting. Same time next week?”

The group nodded.

“Excellent.” Ixtab turned to leave. “Oh. Everyone will be kind to their fellow drivers from now on. You’ll also forget you ever saw me. And Jerry there? He flipped out and ended his life after taking his own smack. ’Kay?”

The crowd nodded with an absent gaze.

Yes, being the Goddess of Suicide wasn’t all shits and giggles—it was mostly shits—but it did have its moments.

An Hour Later, Kinich’s Estate

Ixtab looked at her pastel yellow watch and frowned. Dammit. She was ten minutes late to the gods’ summit meeting and would be left with cleanup duty. Again. She only hoped her brother Belch, God of Intoxication and Wine, hadn’t brought his keg this time. Or the donkey with the sombrero. And that he’d remembered to wear pants.

As Ixtab hurried through the modern, southwestern-style estate toward the summit room, she wondered what would become of the place. With its large skylights, indoor cactus gardens, and warm desert colors, Kinich, her brother, would likely want to move. But where would he go? He’d always loved the desert and the tropics.

Ixtab shivered imagining him living in a gloomy, depressing vampire lair, which made her wonder, How can humans like vampires so much? They’re so… icky—except for Kinich, of course. Poor guy. But surely if humans knew how horribly morbid vampires were, they’d come to their senses! Maybe she should start a list and publish it.

Vampires are icky, reason number one: they hate sunshine.

Reason number two: they’re not really alive.

Reason number three: they drink blood.

Yes, but many creatures live on blood: mosquitos, flees, Cimil’s unicorn…

Okay, skip that reason.

New reason number three: vampires are violent.

Speaking of violent, she paused outside the hand-carved double doors adorned with the Mayan sun on one side and the Mayan calendar on the other. Phew, no screaming. Not yet, anyway. Her brethren were such an unruly lot.

Ixtab pushed open the doors of the giant Mayan-esque meeting chamber decorated with hieroglyphs, a big screen TV, and fourteen thrones seated around a large stone slab table. Eight frowns immediately greeted her, the only smile coming from Penelope who, like usual, wore a plain tee and a pair of jeans with her dark hair pulled back into a sleek bun. “Hey, Suicide. We’re just getting started.”

“Ixtab. The name is Ixtab.” She curled her fists and took the thrown baring her Mayan glyph toward the middle of the table. Damn, she hated this chair. It depicted her with giant, pointy nipples, a noose around her neck, and decaying cheeks.

Stupid Mayans, nooses are so last baktun. “And my nipples are cute and perky,” she grumbled.

“Um. Thanks for sharing?” Penelope looked around the room. “Anyone else like to share a description of their nipples before we get started?” Penelope shot a glance toward the end of the table. “It’s a rhetorical question, Belch. Put your hand down.”

He slowly removed his greasy palm from the air and wiped it down the front of his green Puma sweatshirt. As usual, he had his dark brown hair styled with a nonflattering bedhead look. “I wore pantsss today,” he slurred proudly.

“Actually,” Ixtab pointed out, “those are called underwear. And they’re not even men’s underwear.”

“But they are spectacular,” Mistress of Bees added. “Who knew they made thongsss in transparent plastic?”

As usual, Bees wore a large living hive atop her head and something beeish. Today, it was a tight yellow bodysuit that hugged the curves of her tall, athletic body.

Belch glanced around the chamber. “When did I leavvve the costume party?” He shrugged and then took a swig from his supersized Playboy tankard.

“Okeydokey, then.” Penelope picked up her official Ruler of the House of Gods writing tablet—now an iPad instead of stone since she’d insisted the gods start upgrading their technology—and took roll call. Present were Acan, God of Intoxication and Wine (aka Belch); Ah-Ciliz, God of Solar Eclipses (aka A.C.); Akna, Goddess of Fertility; Camaxtli, Goddess of the Hunt (aka Fate); Colel Cab, Mistress of Bees; K’ak and Zac Cimi, who had yet to find their special gifts, but were quite powerful physically and very popular with the ladies; and last but not least, the Goddess of Forgetfulness. Sadly, no one ever remembered her name and Penelope forgot to count her, as usual.

Missing were Chaam, the God of Male Virility; Kinich, ex–God of the Sun and recently turned vampire; Votan, God of Death and War (aka Guy); Cimil, the ex–Goddess of the Underworld; and the One No One Spoke Of, more affectionately referred to as Máax, which meant “Who?” in Mayan. Ixtab really missed the stubborn bastard, but what was done was done.

Penelope then moved to setting the agenda. Unanimous votes passed to discuss the news of this mysterious tablet and some physicist named Antonio Acero. The topic of Emma’s evil Maaskab grandmother would be postponed until later; her survival after Penelope’s Maaskab BBQ special was uncertain.

“I wish to discuss the fate of Kinich,” Zac said acrimoniously.

Penelope glared at him. “What’s to discuss?”

Ixtab felt the negative energy spike through the thinning ozone. Here we go. Everyone knew that Zac loved Penelope, and though she tried to hide it—no doubt because of her deep love for Kinich—Penelope felt some attraction for Zac, too. Like the other gods, Zac was tall, recklessly handsome (by mortal standards, not Ixtab standards), well built, and quite sharp. His only shortcoming was that he hadn’t discovered his gift. Yet. Although Ixtab and the others suspected he was the God of Love.

Lucky bastard.

“He attacked you—our leader,” Zac said. “This is an offense punishable by death or permanent banishment in the case of a deity.”

Penelope gasped, and the other gods protested vehemently. Point being, Kinich was no longer a deity so that meant death.

Zac’s icy blue-green eyes swept the room. “Are you denying Kinich has broken the law? Or that he is a danger to Penelope?” He looked straight at Ixtab. “What say you, sister?”

That’s an easy one, you lame ass. “We should discuss Kinich,” Ixtab replied. “But how to help, not how to punish him.”

Zac scowled and took his seat while voting concluded. Death or punishment of any sort would be off the table, but Kinich’s fate would be reviewed.