Accidentally...Over?: Accidentally Yours 5 (11 page)

Splendid. Another earthquake.
He wondered what the score was now.

Máax entered the long, sterile-looking hallway—gray paint and fluorescent lights—turned the corner, and immediately spotted Cimil, sitting cross-legged on her cell floor, playing paddleball. Toward the center of the cellblock, a line of vampires attired in black leather and tees stood in formation like an immortal football team, their gazes cold and alert, ready for anything.

Except for that guy.
Máax quirked a brow. One of the vampires, a blond on the end, stroked an empty space of air to his side. “There, there, Minky. All will be well.”

Cimil’s unicorn. How the hell had it gotten inside the prison? Damned beast was as big as a rhino.

Thankfully, his brethren remained inside their glass holding tanks, each in varying states of “pissed as hell” or “freaking the hell out.”

Máax had to admit, despite the dire situation and countdown to doom, seeing all thirteen gods jailed, guarded by
fucking huge vampires, had some entertainment value. They had even managed to capture the infamous chick magnet Zac Cimi, Bacab of the North (also known as Ix Zacal, the inventor of weaving; Z, Keeper of Tchotchkes; and Kuju, the Yukaghir Spirit God of Food—his specialty happened to be creamy sauces—among many, many other titles and gifts), and most recently titled God of Temptation. Zac had gone into hiding because he also held the honor of being the gods’ most wanted. (Not wanted in a sexy way, but in a “you’re in a heap of shit” way for trying to steal another god’s mate.) While it was common for the deities to have many, many gifts and to be known by many, many names, depending on the culture, “most wanted” was not a title anyone desired. Not even Máax who prided himself on being known as the bad boy of the gods.

Bastard deserves to be locked up. In fact, perhaps they will all benefit from a little reflection time.

Sure he loved them just as a human might love his or her siblings—though the gods were not truly related—but they’d all used Máax in one way or another, taking advantage of his need to see justice served at any cost. Example: There was the time Camaxtli, aka Fate, had Máax travel back to ancient Greece to steal the book of the Oracle of Delphi. Fate had used the book for years to predict the future. Why? A secret. One she made him swear to keep until his grave. Example two: The time Cimil had him steal the book away from Fate so she could give it to some Demilord. Why? Yeah, another secret. The list of manipulations, deceit, and games went on and on. And yet Máax never turned his back on the other gods—not even that lying coward, Fate—when they asked for help. Not even when his suffering became almost too much to bear.

So, yeah, despite the apparent eminent destruction of their world, he found it pretty damned satisfying to see them all incarcerated. Too bad the moment felt ruined by his need to return to Ashli. And the fact that the Universe wanted to kill her.

Oh, well.
“Revenge is completely overrated anyway,” he muttered.

All heads swiveled in his general direction.

Kinich, ex–God of the Sun, was the first to start yelling at him. “Máax, you will release us from these cells! Immediately!” His long golden-brown hair fell about his face while he pounded his fists into the glass.

Then came the screaming from Ixtab, Ah-Ciliz, Zac, Akna, Acan, K’ak, Votan, and the rest, including his other sister—the one whose name no one ever remembered. Sucked to be the Goddess of Forgetfulness.

Yes, everyone yelled, except Cimil, who looked bored out of her immortal mind. Then she simply held up five fingers. “Rumble, rumble. Ticktock, Invisi-boy!”

Máax knew she meant five earthquakes had now passed and was about to say something else when he noticed one other god oblivious to the chaos: Chaam.

His large frame, draped in a black caftan garment, sagged on his bed. Next to him, his mate Maggie, with long brown hair and wearing a light gray dress, resembled a barnacle clinging to a sinking battleship.

Maggie hiccuped and mopped her tears with Chaam’s long black hair.

This is very troubling.

Back off, man, you need to return to Ashli. Whatever troubles him can wait.

Máax’s gaze wondered back to Maggie. With her wide
brown eyes and freckled nose, her aura of innocence was just the sort a deity—
him, okay; him!
—couldn’t turn away from.

Yes. Yes, you can. Think of Ashli.
He had to see her again soon. Perhaps touch her silky, soft lips and get yet another glimpse of that perfect, smooth, round ass or those gorgeous, cocoa-brown breasts with the pink little nip—

Maggie hiccuped once more and then snorted between heart-wrenching sobs.

Hell! Bloody deity hell, hell, hell!

Máax knew this wasn’t a detour he could afford, but his nature to ensure a just world drew him right in like a moth to a flame, like a bee to honey, like Cimil to a BOGO sale on pirate costumes. (She’d started some idiotic holiday having to do with pirates. How did a god have time for such frivolous bull crap?)

“Brother?” Máax placed his palms against the glass of Chaam’s cell, ignoring the raging voices exploding in all directions. “What is the matter?”
Besides this fucking apocalypse.

Maggie looked up with wet doe eyes. “Máax! You have to help him. Please tell him! Tell him it’s not his fault!”

Chaam didn’t bother to lift his drooping head. His long hair hung like a flag of defeat. “Don’t defend me, Maggie. Don’t do it. Tell the vampires you’ve relinquished your love for me so they’ll set you free. Just…
fucking go
, woman.”

“How can you say that?” This time she wiped her tears with the backs of her hands. “After everything we’ve been through.”

It was true. Everyone knew the two had been through
their share of pain and struggles. After meeting Maggie, his one true love, Chaam had been possessed by dark energy, committed a series of heinous atrocities—started breeding like a rabbit with random women and then murdered his female children to use them as some sort of apocalyptic biofuel (yeah, like he said, heinous)—then had been captured and imprisoned inside a real-life “temple of doom.” Maggie had also been imprisoned inside one of the tablets. Well, not inside, but in the dimension that existed between everything. Not pretty. Chaam had since been cured, thanks to Máax and their sister Ixtab—but Chaam had a mountain of baggage to deal with.

“Leave! Before I kill you!” Chaam raged and then sank back into his pit of despair.

Maggie hesitated for a moment and then wrapped her arms around Chaam’s hunched-over frame as he began to sob.

Saints of yore!
Máax moaned in his head. Gods didn’t cry. Ever.
This is too much to bear.

“No, baby.” Maggie squared her shoulders. “I won’t go. I don’t care what you say. I’ve watched you suffer”—Maggie pointed toward Cimil’s cell—“because of that evil… evil cow whore! I’m not leaving you! And I won’t rest until I see her pay.”

Máax glanced at Cimil, who seemed to be looking at someone nonexistent, and mouthed the words, “Cow whore? What the hell?” She then began singing “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” while merrily smacking that paddleball.

Máax groaned. He didn’t have time for this fucking drama. He had a crisis to tend to.

“Chaam. Brother. Tell me why you are so distraught,” Máax said, already suspecting he knew the answer.

Chaam shook his head with regret, the tears sheeting down his cheeks. “I killed them, my own daughters. I seduced their mothers. I had children with them. Then I slaughtered my own. I am a monster.”

Maggie punched Chaam, a man twice her size, in the shoulder. “No! That was Cimil! She made you do it.”

“No!” Chaam argued. “If I’d been strong enough, I could’ve resisted her. I’m weak and evil.”

Maggie looked up at Máax, and for a moment he wondered if she could see him. But of course, she could not. “Please help him, Máax. He trusts you. He knows you can’t lie. Tell him it’s not his fault.”

Máax took a deep, satisfying breath. These were the moments he lived for. Setting things right, helping others, serving truth. Yep, made him feel like a complete badass. Of course, he was a badass. Who else could pull off the kind of shit he did? No one. That’s why he would be the one to save the world. Okay, Ashli would, but he was her protector. Same thing.

Máax said with a loud voice for all to hear, “It is not your fault, brother. You are not evil. You have done no wrong.”

Chaam’s head snapped up. “What?”

Yes, Máax had gotten his attention, because everyone knew that Máax did not lie. Ever.

Máax crossed his arms over his chest, not that anyone could see him. Fucking sucked to be invisible. “I have undone every evil act, brother. Your children live on and you are free to enjoy a happy and peaceful life with Maggie, and blah, blah, you’re welcome, blah, blah, blah.”

Cimil suddenly jumped up and started clapping. “Yippee! Give that man a gold star! Woo!”

Chaam stood, crossed the cell, and looked straight at Máax. Well, straight at his ear. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Brother,” Máax said, “why the fuck do you think I made those trips to the past? To prove my badassery cannot be surpassed? I already know that.”

Chaam stared, speechless.

“Nice shooting the shit with you, as always, but I must—”

“I don’t understand,” Chaam said.

“I saved every one of them,” Máax admitted. “None have died by your hand, and most are happily living out their lives. And for those whom I could not find a safe home, I brought them forward.”

“You mean…” Maggie’s words crackled with emotion. “Those women, the Payals who can’t remember who they are?”

Máax’s patience wore thinner by the second. “Yes.” What? Did he have to spell it out? There had been approximately a thousand women of Chaam’s descent (called Payals), spanning over the course of eighty or so years, whom Máax had quietly plucked from death’s doorstep, relocating them before their fates took a turn for the worse. He’d helped all but two hundred find new lives, safe from Chaam’s evil henchmen, the Maaskab. Those two hundred had been severely traumatized, leaving him no choice but to employ the help of his sister, the Goddess of Forgetfulness. The women were now safe, living right there on the Uchben base where they could start anew. Not a perfect ending to their stories, but sometimes perfect wasn’t possible.

Maggie wailed and then jumped on Chaam, wrapping her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist. “I told you so, baby. I told you. We were meant to be happy.”

Chaam’s face whitened with astonishment. “But why? Why did you do it?” he asked Máax.

It had taken Máax the equivalent of one human year, working around the clock to accomplish the task, but what the hell. Not like he had had anything better to do. “ ’Cause I’m the only one with the balls big enough to pull it off. Why else?” Okay. Maybe he cared a little bit, too, but no one needed to know that.

“But all of those times you traveled back,” Chaam said. “You will be punished for breaking our laws.”

“Really? No shit. Now if you don’t mind,” Máax grumbled.

“Thank you, Máax. Thank you,” Maggie offered.

Chaam glared at Cimil. “You are not off the hook, Cimil. I still have a score to settle with you.”

Roberto moved in front of Cimil’s cell, faced Chaam, and crossed his arms. “Over my dead body.”

“That, my vampire friend, can be arranged.” Chaam’s eyes flickered over the faces of every vampire standing guard.

Maggie nudged Chaam. “Will you stop, you arrogant, overgrown manchild? Don’t you see what’s happened? You can let go of your guilt. You’re free—well, sort of—and we’re together.”

Chaam looked down at Maggie and threaded his fingers through her mahogany-colored hair. “Yes. Yes. Of course. You are right.”

“Oh,” Máax added. “And brother? Before you thank me again, I’d like to point out that you’re now the proud
father of two hundred daughters. Good fucking luck with that.”

Maggie squealed. “I’ve always wanted a big family!”

Chaam’s lips hardened for several moments, but then he grinned. “So have I, actually.”

Sloppy tongues began to fly, and Máax suddenly wished that
they
were invisible. Or that the prison cell had tinted glass, anything to hide what these two looked like they were about to do.

Oh, well. At least they’d stopped talking. Máax could go back to focusing on his own damned carnival-of-crap situation.

Máax’s mind drifted to visions of Ashli.

Ashli. Mmmm. Ashli.
Gods, why couldn’t he control the wanting and lust for a few lousy minutes? It was as if she’d taken over his mind. And his cock.

He leered at Cimil who disco danced to a phantom song in her cell. “Cimil?” Máax warned. “We need to talk.
Now.
”

She ignored him completely.

He walked over and pounded on the glass. Surprisingly, Roberto took a step back, though he remained on his guard.

Good choice, asshole.
Máax was in no mood to play Cimi-games. “I know you are hiding something.”

She stopped dancing and raised her brows. “I hide nothing!” She covered one side of her mouth and whispered, “Except for the new unicorn tat on my bum. It’s a surprise for Roberto.” Cimil paused for an accomplished sigh.

Máax was not amused. “Tell me what you really know about Ashli. And do not play stupid, because clearly you have deceived me.”

Cimil pointed to herself. “
Moi?
Well, I have been known to lie. But what can I say? That’s how I hop.” Her disco move transformed into a bunny hop to prove her point.

“This isn’t a joke,” Máax growled. “She’s going to die, and I won’t be able to stop it if you don’t help me.”

“Cimiiiil? What is going on?” asked Roberto who stepped to Máax’s side. “I, too, am beginning to suspect there is more going on here than a simple attempt to halt the end of the days.”

Máax was surprised by Roberto’s suspicious attitude.

Cimil’s eye toggled between the floor and Roberto’s face. “Okay. You got me.” She held up her hands.