Vampires Need Not...Apply

Chapter Nueve

The small sapling of hope blossoming in the depths of Antonio’s soul shriveled up and died a gruesome death on the spot. He’d finally found the mysterious woman from the hospital only to be told he disgusted her.

Of course, you disgust her, coño, you’re nothing but a pathetic useless—

A loud crash followed by a man’s painful scream startled him. It came from the doorway directly in front of the elevator, one door down from his. It was his new neighbor, the one who paced day and night and never slept. Perhaps the man had finally passed out from exhaustion. Or something worse…

Antonio cautiously approached the door and listened. All was quiet.

He knocked. “Hello? Is everything all right?”

A muffled moan filtered through the door. Caray. Had the man been injured? Antonio turned the doorknob and pushed open the door. “Do you need help?”

Dammit. He couldn’t see shit. The man might be a foot away, bleeding to death, and Antonio wouldn’t even know.

“Hello?” He stepped inside and tried to listen for any sound.

Nothing, dammit. When would his Spidey hearing kick in? Wasn’t his body supposed to compensate for his lost sight? Dios, he sucked at everything, didn’t he?

The door slammed shut behind him. “Who the fuck are you?” asked a deep, ominous voice.

Antonio’s heart pounded furiously inside his chest. “I’m your neighbor. I heard a crash and…” Santa Maria! “It smells like blood.”

“I punched the wall and cut open my hand.” The voice had moved in front of him.

This guy sounded crazier than he was. “Bueno, I see you are alive and breathing, so I’ll be on my way.”

A firm hand pushed him away from the door.

“What the fuck?” Antonio extended his hands defensively, but the man seemed to be everywhere all at once.

“Listen, coño,” Antonio said, dropping his arms, “if you want to kill me, you’d probably be doing me a favor, but make it quick.”

He felt the man’s hot breath on his face right before his sunglasses were torn away. Antonio knew he had no use of his eyes, yet he couldn’t break the urge to open them and strain to see what was happening.

“Your aura is too bright,” said the man. “I can’t kill you. Guess it’s your lucky day.”

Right. Lucky. My day has been a giant pinche shamrock. “I would not call it that.”

“Mine neither,” the man grumbled.

“Sorry to hear that.” You pinche psychopath. “If you’re not going to kill me and you’re not dying, I’m going back to my apartment to drink myself into a stupor.”

“Stay. I will pour you a scotch.”

“No, gracias. I think—”

“I said, ‘Stay.’Relax. This is what you want.” Something in the man’s voice compelled him to obey. Ironically, the sensation felt far more unnerving than being threatened physically.

“If you insist,” Antonio replied reluctantly. What the hell is going on?

The man grabbed him by the arm and dragged him across the room. Caray, what a fucking grip this man had.

“Sit,” the man commanded. “I will return in a moment.”

Antonio’s body obeyed, but his mind clicked back and forth between caged-animal panic and an artificial complacency.

Keep your cool. Get him to let his guard down and then run for the door…

The man returned promptly with a cool-to-the-touch, smooth glass tumbler.

Antonio took a whiff. Single malt scotch. Very fine. “Macallan 1926?” Antonio asked.

“You have a good nose.”

“I learned to drink scotch in my late teens; wanted to piss off my father, who happens to be a vintner.” And possibly the most vile son of a bitch on the face of the planet.

The man laughed. “A very expensive rebellion.”

Scotch had only been the beginning of a lifelong pursuit to reject everything his father stood for. If it was the last thing Antonio did, he’d beat his father—and by beat, he meant kill.

“These days my tastes have humbled,” Antonio said. “I’m a big fan of Belgian whites. In fact, I have a six-pack in the fridge if you’d like to try—”

“You will stay and relax,” the man commanded.

The anxiety instantly drained from Antonio’s body. “Yes, I’d like that.” I think.

Again the man laughed. “Good. So, you are my neighbor,” he said.

“Yes. I am Antonio Acero.”

“Kinich. Nice to meet you. So, tell me more about this bad luck,” Kinich said.

“Why?” Antonio never discussed his problems with anyone. What good would it fucking do? They’d either think him crazy or… well, fucking crazy. Nor could anyone help him. So no fucking thanks.

“If it’s worse than mine,” Kinich replied, “it might make me feel better.” He added in that strange, deep voice, “I insist.”

Antonio took a large swallow of the smooth, smoky liquid. Oddly, he felt the gripping urge to tell the crazy man everything.

But will he believe you? Antonio’s situation exceeded the boundaries of sanity and defied every law of the universe. It was the reason he’d left home at his first chance. It was the reason he’d studied quantum physics. It was the reason nothing mattered more than proving alternate dimensions existed.

Of course, proof seemed like the illusive pot of gold at the end of a rainbow until two months ago when a colleague—as a joke—sent him an article about the Mayans and time travel. The legends spoke of a sacred tablet, and with it, they’d traveled the stars, saw the future, and eventually returned home to share their wealth of knowledge. The Mayans then constructed pyramids, complex irrigation systems, and a calendar more accurate than what was used today.

However, the Mayan holy men, knowing the danger of time travel and dimensional exploration, kept this knowledge close to the vest. Only their high priests and kings ever knew of the existence of the tablets. And it was said that when the Spanish arrived, it was Fray Diego de Landa who discovered their secrets and witnessed their powers firsthand. Yes, the Fray Diego de Landa. Infamous Franciscan monk who led the Mexican inquisition and subjected the indigenous population to violent forms of torture in the name of Christianity. He burnt every shred of paper, including the sacred codices, and destroyed every tablet he could get his “holy” hands on. No one understood his violent, bloody rampage of destruction, but if he had indeed seen the tablets open a portal to another world, one could easily guess why a monk of that day and age would believe it to be the devil’s magic.

Luckily, however, not everything had been destroyed. A few precious historical documents survived along with the record of one remaining tablet that had been hidden from the Spaniards, kept safe all these centuries somewhere near the border of Belize.

“I am waiting,” said Kinich.

Antonio felt an odd pressure inside his head, compelling him to speak. “It all started when I went to Mexico to find an artifact I’d been searching for. A tablet. I didn’t believe it would be there, but the fucking thing practically hopped in my lap—as if it was looking for me,” Antonio said.

“You do not truly believe the tablet sought you out, do you?” Kinich asked.

Antonio took another sip. “I’ve thought to myself many times, Puta madre! I have lost my mind. But I cannot deny what I saw.

“I’d been in Tulum, Mexico, for a week with my companion, a lovely German woman named… caray. I cannot remember—Ute. Sí, Ute was her name. She was built like a swimsuit model and insatiable, but her incessant whining drove me mad. ‘Make love to me again, Antonio. You work too much, Antonio. You never spend enough time with me, Antonio.’Caray. It was too much; a man’s got to have a few hours of downtime. I grabbed my gear, took my map, and headed out in my Jeep. However, I think I already knew where I was going—to a dirt road in the middle of the jungle. That is when the engine died.”

“Let me guess. A strange redhead wearing pink appeared to you.”

Antonio felt the pressure in his head pull back. “How did you know?”

“Lucky guess,” Kinich said.

Lucky guess my pinche foot. “How did you know?”

Kinich cleared his throat. “That redheaded woman is my sister. She has a way of popping up like that.”

“Your sister?”

“Yes,” Kinich said, “and I’m going to bet she spoke of clowns, talked to a bug, and then directed you to the tablet?”

Sí. That is exactly right. How did he know? “I thought I’d dreamt the entire thing. The scuba diving, finding the tablet inside a cenote, the Jeep starting on its own. But when I woke up in my bed back in New York, I knew. It had been fate.”

Kinich chuckled. “Not Fate. Cimil. Fate doesn’t usually get her hands dirty with overly complicated jungle-based plots. This has Cimil written all over it.”

“How do you know all this?”

“I suppose”—Kinich paused—“there’s no harm in telling you. I’m going to have to wipe your memory before you leave anyway.”

“Excuse me?”

“I am a god,” the man said casually. “Well, I was a god.”

Yes. Of course you are… The man was clearly insane. Actually, this entire conversation had taken a trip to Salvador Dalí Land. Care for a fucking melted pocket watch anyone?

Antonio stood. It was time to get the hell out of there.

“Where are you going?” Kinich asked.

“My assistant is coming to help me translate notes. She’s probably waiting outside right now,” Antonio lied.

“Bullshit. She comes in the morning, and it’s eight o’clock at night,” Kinich said. “Tell me what Cimil said and then you may leave.”

Once again, Antonio felt an odd sensation pressing against his mind, pushing him to talk. “The redhead said that I was to study the tablet, decipher it, and unlock its secrets. If I did so, my destiny would be fulfilled.” He left out the part about finding his true love and happiness. Men simply didn’t say that sort of crap to other men.

“I see.” Antonio heard the man scratch his chin. From the sound of it, he hadn’t shaved in weeks.

“Then I believe this is what you must do—unlock the tablet’s secrets. Quickly.”

“How do you propose I accomplish this?” Antonio asked. “My most important tool happens to be out of commission, and it’s impossible to teach someone else to translate what they see in a meaningful way for me.”

“You still have your brain; you’ll figure it out. And if you do not, you will die.”

Santa Maria! He turned to leave, only to find two cold hands pushing him back into his seat.

“Relax. I told you that I am not going to kill you, it is forbidden to kill mortals who are not evil—kill them on purpose, anyway. But my brother and a very good friend are trapped inside another dimension. If they are not released, the Maaskab are prophesied to make the planet their personal playground of death and destruction.”

Maaskab? What the hell is that? And his brother is trapped? End of the world? “You are mad.”

“I speak the truth,” Kinich said with a low hypnotic voice.

“Sí. And my huevos are magical coconuts.”

“Your eggs?” the man questioned.

“Balls. My balls!”

“And you say I am insane? At least I do not believe my testicles are magical,” Kinich said.

What the…? “I’ve answered your questions. I’m leaving now.” He stood and beelined for the door, instantly slamming into a table. His body toppled over and his face smashed into a pile of whatever had been on top, including something made of glass. Something sharp.

“Puta madre!” Blood gushed from his cheek as his body tumbled.

A feral growl seeped into his ears. “You broke the vial. It smells so… so…”

Antonio felt the cool tickle of air move across his face as two sharp knives sank into his throat.