He leaned in close and whispered in her ear, “By the way, that toga looks stunning on you. I may have to remove my costume so that others do not mistake my toga for a pup tent.”
His scent, so sweet and addictive, overwhelmed her senses.
“And your hair, I love it loose and wild like this.” He rubbed a lock between his fingers and then slid his hand across her cheek. “You are so lovely, Ashli. Every inch of you.”
Standing next to him, seeing him with her very own eyes, hearing him whisper those tempting words was too much. He was a seduction machine.
“Hey. Looking good, Máax.” The deep male voice came from behind Ashli.
Máax glanced over Ashli’s shoulder. “Andrus. Tommaso.” He dipped his head, grinning. “Amusing costumes, gentlemen.”
Ashli turned her head to see who stood behind her, but when her eyes registered the two large men wearing loincloths, their nearly bare bodies and hair caked in dried mud, she yelped. Ohmygod.
“Ashli.” Máax chuckled. “Andrus and Tommaso are dressed as Maaskab, an evil sect of Mayan priests.”
Ashli pieced together a half smile. No doubt the other half was a look of disgust. Both men wore necklaces made of plastic fingers and had fake blood smeared on their faces.
“See, Tommaso,” Andrus said. “I told you. The ladies weren’t going to be into this. Now I’m not going to get laid. It’s my first night off in six months. Do you know how hard it is to find qualified stand-ins when the gods throw a party?”
Tommaso rolled his eyes. “You’re such a fucking wuss, Andrus. Come on, I saw a couple Payals over by the hors d’oeuvre table eyeing our Scabby thongs.”
“I am not a wuss; I am a lethal assassin.” Andrus punched Tommaso in the shoulder.
“You’re a fucking nanny, Andrus. Now shut the hell up and let’s get hammered. By the way…” Tommaso tilted his head to one side and turned stone-cold serious. “Have I ever told you that I really love you, man? Not in a gay way, not that there’s anything wrong with that. But like a brother. Fuck—why did I just say that?” Tommaso glanced at Máax and Ashli. “I gotta get a drink. Nice meeting you, Ashli.”
“Uhhh…” Andrus shrugged his brows and watched Tommaso scurry away before turning back to Ashli. “I guess I’ll go join him. See what’s wrong. Nice to meet you, Ashli…” His voice trailed off, and his eyes locked on Ashli.
Okay. Awkward. She glanced at Máax, then back at the man.
“Enjoy the party, Andrus,” Máax said, politely shooing him away.
Andrus shook his head, snapping out of his distraction. “Yeah. Thanks.” He disappeared into the crowd.
“That was interesting,” Máax mumbled.
Ashli turned her attention back to Máax, who began rattling away some story about Andrus being hopelessly in love with another man’s wife—that Niccolo guy?—and caretaker to his daughter. Honestly, Ashli wasn’t really listening. How could she?
She sighed at the deeply chiseled muscles, the ripples of his partially exposed abs, the thick, strong thighs jutting out from below the hem of his almost too short toga, a toga that barely covered him and reminded her of what was underneath. Mandy bar! It was a part of him she remembered touching and tasting and enjoying. She’d never felt so free and uninhibited with a man. She’d never felt so needy for one, either.
Have you forgotten about his other fine traits? Like being a liar?
Yes, but even you can admit, it wasn’t with malicious intent.
“Hi, Máax.” Twin petite blondes with sparkle-covered skin and wearing flimsy white negligees smiled lustily at him.
“Where have you been hiding yourself? You naughty, naughty boy,” the one on the left said in a saucy voice.
Ashli felt the urge to punch her.
Máax smiled stiffly. “Hello, ladies, may I introduce you to Ashli, my mate. Does she not look lovely tonight?”
The two perky-boobed women looked at Ashli. “Is this the mortal who dumped you?” the one on the right asked. “Doesn’t look like much to me. Kinda plain.”
“I hear from the vampires,” said the other one, “that she couldn’t, you know, please him so she tried to run away. Is that true, Máax? Because we know how to handle a god.”
I’m gonna punch them both! Right in their perky little boobs!
“Ladies.” Máax scowled. “We both know that is untrue—”
“I’m sorry,” Ashli interrupted, her fists clenched. “Who the hell are you—”
“Let me handle this, Ashli,” Máax said, cutting her off. “You’re still new to everything.”
Incredible! He’s incredible, she thought bitterly. I had this! Why did he insist on being so, so, so condescending. Ugh!
“I dumped him,” Ashli said, “because he’s a liar. And he’s all yours, ladies.” Ashli turned away and began pushing through the cocktail-sipping crowd. “I’m going to find the ladies’ room.”
Can’t please him? Can’t please him? Had he really been telling people—uhh, vampires—that?
“Ashli!” Máax called, but she needed to get away from him before she got sucked in again. His voice, his smell, his mere presence acted like a giant amplifier for her emotions. And those two disgusting… What the hell were they?
“They’re sex fairies!” Máax screamed. “You can’t believe a word they say!”
She kept walking. “Sex fairies?” she mumbled. “Well, just great!” Sex fairies were publically shaming her bedroom skills while hitting on Máax.
Maybe you’re not ready for this. Maybe it’s too much.
No. You can do this. Just take a breath. She fought the tiny voices in her head, urging her to run back to her room. Or to 1993. But she was determined to leave her old, emotional hermit–like ways behind and enjoy what little time she had left.
She found the ladies’ room near the corner of the packed convention hall and pushed the door. “Sex fairies. Really?” Who ever heard of such a lame species? Probably some man had invented them.
She walked over to the sink and stared herself down in the mirror. “You are not going to cry. Not. Not. Not. Do you hear me?”
“Hello, Ashli. Nice to finally meet you. You have no idea how long we’ve waited.”
Ashli looked into the mirror, but there was no one there. She turned quickly and saw a blonde with a bob and a brunette with short hair, both about her age. They wore black-and-white-striped referee outfits, whistle necklaces, and…
“Holly crap! Are those ummm…”
“Wings,” said the petite blonde and the shorter of the two. She reached out her hand. “I’m Anne, by the way, and this is my associate, Jess.”
Ashli shook hands with Anne but immediately snapped hers away when she noticed an odd tingle. Who were these two? They looked harmless enough, like sweet Midwestern sorority sisters. Except for the referee outfits and frigging enormous white, fluffy wings that sparkled like luminescent diamonds. “Are they…”
“Real? Yes,” replied the brunette, Jess. “But we can talk about that later. Right now, we need to chat. And it’s muy importante. One might even say that you were born for this. El gran momento! So time to listen-listen. ’Kay?”
Ashli wasn’t really sure she was having this conversation. Perhaps she’d slipped on the floor on the way into the bathroom? She flipped a glance over her shoulder at the mirror behind her. Crap! Still empty. But when she looked directly in front of her, the two women were as plain as day.
What the hell? “You can’t be real.”
“Come on,” said Anne, “by now you should be all broken in. You’ve met deities—an invisible one at that—vampires, you’ve been sifted through time, and you’ve met Cimil’s unicorn.”
“I met a unicorn?” She didn’t remember meeting any unicorn.
The blonde, Anne, smiled. “Uh… yeah. Minky’s been hiding out in your room since you arrived. Apocalypses make her nervous. Didn’t you notice?”
Ashli shook her head no.
“Minky is mostly harml
ess, except when she gets in a cuddly mood.”
“Huh?” Okay. Now I know I’ve gone off the deep end. She turned to escape but encountered a third woman standing against the door. She was extremely tall, especially compared to Ashli’s five feet and one inch of vertical presence. This woman didn’t wear a referee outfit, however, but instead had on a bunny costume sorta. Black satin short shorts, platform shoes, a teeny tiny tank top, and pink fluffy bunny ears that matched her giant fluffy wings. And a lit cigar. That was sorta bunny. Right?
“Who are you?” Ashli asked, hoping and praying that the woman would not reply with, “The Easter Bunny.” Because, yeah, that would be the final straw.
“She’s Nicole,” replied Anne, who stood so close behind Ashli that her entire body now tingled.
“Our boss,” added Jess.
“Friends call me Nick.” Ashli watched in awe as the cigar-smoking bunny puffed out a giant ball of smoke that formed a heart, which evaporated into thin air. “Hiya.”
“But I… I…” Screw this happily living out your final days bull crap. It’s probably overrated anyway. “Can I leave, please?” She wondered if she could talk one of those vampires into opening the portal and returning her to 1993.
“You,” Anne said, “may go just as soon as you listen.”
There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home. Ohmygod, heeeelp.
The bunny lady lifted a brow. “Really? Really? You went Oz on us?”
They can hear my thoughts?
Bunny lady looked at Anne and Jess. “Wow. This is the chosen one? Thank heavens she doesn’t have to do anything complicated or we’d all be shopping for a new Universe for sure.”
Ashli’s mouth fell open. Then she snapped it shut, closed her eyes, and took a breath, waiting a moment before she reopened them. Dammit. They’re still there!
“Aaaand she’s back. Great.” Jess removed the whistle hanging around her neck and placed it over Ashli’s head. “All you need to do is remember that when the trouble starts, blow that whistle—it’s the only help you’re getting from us. It’s up to you to stop them. Understand?”
Not even. “Blow the whistle and stop them?” Who? From doing what? “Can you be a little more specific? ’Cause I’d really love to know what the hell you’re talking about.”
The three women exchanged glances. “Did you just say ‘hell’ to a group of angels?” they replied in unison.
Ashli sighed. Why did everything have to be so strange? She ran her hands over her face. “I need to get out of here.” Maybe she’d hit her head getting out of the limo.
“No,” Anne said. “You need to stay.”
“Give her the whammy already,” said Jess. “Belch is making pousse-cafés, and I’m not missing out this time. I hear the flame is twelve inches high.”
“Fine.” Anne stepped forward, and Ashli stepped back. “Listen, Ash. I’ll make it short and sweet. Once upon a time, many thousands of years ago, humans were created. And angels—hello, that’s us, if you were wondering—were created to keep watch over humans. The Creator is too busy running the cosmos and all, so she’s gotta have help. Yunno? But it didn’t take long for the Creator to see we weren’t exactly cut out for the job. Not because we don’t rock, but because humans are flawed. We are not. Anywing, we stopped being relevant because we find it hard to relate, because we don’t understand what it’s like to be flawed. Yada yada.
“So the Creator decided to bridge the gap by creating the gods—flawed, quirky, and well, downright childish at times. Great plan, except there’s another problem. Humans evolve. Rather quickly. Which means the gods, too, are fast becoming obsolete. Irrelevant. I mean, really. When’s the last time you saw a new monument built to those clowns? Anywing, the Creator was about to throw in the towel, but we threw down a challenge instead. We saw potential in the gods. So we made a bet; if we could prove the gods capable of evolving, the Creator would let us keep the planet.
“Fast-forward to present day. Some of the gods have made progress—learning humility, how to love and share their power—but it’s not enough. They must all prove they’re capable of real change or we all die; the Creator’s going to scrap the whole terrarium and start over again.”
“What? Scrap? Why? Creator?” Ashli said, holding back an epic meltdown.
“Wow. Ain’t she full o’ them big ol’ words,” said the bunny thug or whatever her name was.
“Why are you telling me all this?” Ashli muttered.
“Because,” Anne said, “sometimes it just takes one person to turn the tides. One simple act. One simple gesture. But it must be out of love.”
“Every ocean starts with one drop of water,” added Jess.
“So tonight,” Anne continued, “when the time comes, you will blow that whistle and do your thing.”
“Huh?” Ashli didn’t quite understand.
“And you will forget”—Anne snapped her fingers—“that we ever had this conversation, but you will remember what you must do.”
“Okay. I will forget. And remember. But are you really…” Her voiced tapered off, and Ashli stood in the bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror.
What am I doing here? I need a drink!
Ashli wandered out into the party to find a cocktail for her unsteady nerves. She’d been there all of four minutes and had already been threatened by a beekeeper, fended off Máax’s seductive package, been insulted by sex fairies, and then been accosted by…
Hmmm. That’s strange. I can’t remember. What was she about to do?
Find a supersized dirty martini, remember? Hopefully one that didn’t contain anything otherworldly. Just good, old-fashioned vodka or gin. Or both. Hell. Didn’t matter.
She stood on her tiptoes trying to spot the bar. There! A long line of people gathered around an elevated counter. Behind it stood a man who wore nothing but a giant wine barrel with a strap over each shoulder.
She made her way over and watched as he lined up ten glasses and proceeded to pour various multicolored liquids into them like a cocktail assembly line. The tenth glass he lifted to his mouth and gulped it down while people helped themselves to the full glasses. He repeated the task three more times before Ashli moved to the front of the line. The man, tall and rather good-looking, though clearly inebriated and in dire need of a comb, stopped his drink slinging and looked straight at her.
“Coming right up,” he said and began mixing a dirty martini with blue cheese olives. Just the way she liked it.
“But how did you know that’s what I wanted?” she asked as he placed the jumbo-sized martini glass right in front of her.
“He’s Belch, the God of Wine and Intoxication,” said a male voice at her side.
“Brutus. Ohmygod. Hi.”
“It’s been a long time.” He hugged her, but did not let go.
Okay there, big boy. She wiggled loose. “Feels like a few days to me.”
“Twenty years,” Brutus said with regret. “Twenty long years.”
Oh no. Poor guy. Changing subjects.
“So.” She glanced back at the bartender. “Is he really the god of alcohol?”
“The nammme’s Acan,” the bartender slurred and winked at her.
Sure. They have a deity for bees, why not beer, too? Did they have a deity for clearance sales, as well? How about bacon and eggs? Those were important, right?
Ashli simply stared as he whipped up another batch of drinks, then lit them on fire. Wow.
“So. You enjoying the party?” Brutus asked.
“It’s a party to celebrate the end of the world,” she replied. “So, I’m not sure exactly.”
“Drink,” Acan slurred from behind the bar. “It will make you feel betewww.” He winked again before moving his attention to the next person in line, a man with a three-foot-tall, silver-and-jade headdress with a serpent eating some corn. She felt compelled to comment, but then noticed his turquoise eyes and long silvery hair cascading down to his ankles.
An
other deity. Actually, this one she remembered from the prison. He’d been throwing lightning bolts inside his cell.
Ashli stepped back a few feet, plucked the olive from her enormous martini glass, and threw back her drink. Wow. It was the best dang martini she’d ever had.
Without saying a word, the deity from behind the bar placed another in front of her. Wow. He knew she’d need two? Now those were some awesome powers.
She reached for it greedily. “Thank you.”
The man bobbed his head and poured more drinks, which he again lit on fire. This time the flames reached two feet in height. The crowd applauded and then scooped them up.
“He’s pretty impressive,” she said to Brutus, who she now realized wore no costume. “Are you working?”
Brutus nodded yes. “Someone’s got to keep the order. My men tend to get pretty wound up when the game gets to the final round.”
Ashli sipped her second drink. “Game?”
“Yes. It’s a tradition. The annual Uchben play-offs. We skipped last year’s. Too much going on and Cimil was AWOL—she usually organizes the event—but we normally get together once a year, celebrate, and have a friendly game between the two teams: mortals versus immortals. The mortals always win because they have better reflexes; drives Cimil mad.”
“Okay. I was about to say that I’d seen it all, heard it all, but somehow I just know that only means it’s about to get weirder.” Ashli began scanning the crowd, wondering where Máax was. No, she didn’t want to talk to him, but she wanted to look at him. She couldn’t help it. He was his own force of nature. Irresistible, sexy, and so over-the-top masculine that she couldn’t stop wanting him even though she knew he’d only end up hurting her again.
Brutus grinned. “Weird is a good word for it. You are catching on to the way of our world, I see.”
Ashli shrugged. “What’s left of it, anyway.”
“There are never any guarantees in life, Ashli. You of all people know that.”
She shrugged. “How can you be so calm about all this? I look at this room filled with people who are all going to die because of me.” Wow. Where had that come from?