Accidentally Married to…a Vampire?(Accidentally Yours #2)(52)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

Niccolo paused. “I’m guessing Cimil gives people help when they ask, but doesn’t provide detailed instructions. Either that, or she simply enjoys watching them squirm.”

Viktor nodded. “Well, now that I’m feeling inspired by your uplifting story, I guess we should test your theory.”

Niccolo nodded and re-read the tattoo on his arm. It translated as, “True to the gods, you shall enter. I brake for leather pants and garage sales.”

Niccolo once again felt his stomach churn. Cimil had a cruel sense of humor to create a spell using those words, but she was beyond twisted for tattooing the damned thing on his arm. He focused his thoughts away from throttling her. If luck smiled upon him, there’d be time for that diversion later. For the moment, he had no choice but to trust that she’d carefully planned this moment.

“But are you certain you translated the symbols correctly?”

Niccolo nodded. “Sì. And when I see her again, she’s going to pay. Especially if I find out her little spell doesn’t work.”

Viktor opened the car door and stepped onto the dark street. The other men, who’d been eagerly waiting in a row of black vans behind them, exited their vehicles and melted into the night.

For the first time in a millennium, Niccolo prayed. May his men return unharmed with Helena safely in their possession.

“Safe to the gods, you shall enter. I brake for garage sales and leather pants.”

Dea pazzesca, Cimil. This better work.

***

Slumped against the locked door, Helena sobbed for over thirty minutes before her wits returned. She couldn’t give up. Not yet. Not when Niccolo’s life was on the line. It didn’t matter what he’d done or how badly his rejection hurt. She still loved him and had to do something to keep Andrus from killing the queen—and therefore Niccolo. Sooner or later, Andrus would return to check on her, and she was going to be ready.

She marched back down the stairs and began searching the library for a weapon.

Books, shelves, a desk, and lights. Nothing useful. She did another lap around the enormous room to make sure she didn’t miss anything.

She sighed loudly. There had to be another way to warn Niccolo! If he could feel her emotions, could he hear her thoughts too? Anything was worth a try. If you can hear me, Niccolo, Andrus wants to kill the queen. Don’t come for me. Don’t bring Reyna here.

“He can’t hear you, ya know.”

Helena jumped. There was a petite woman with long red hair standing in front of her. She wore pink leather hot pants and a half-tee with Saucy Trollope written in purple glitter.

The woman winked. “But I can.”

Helena hated to ask; the woman radiated hazard, “And you are?”

The woman lifted her pasty hand over her heart. “You wound me. I am Cimil, your divine cheerleader and sponsor of chaos. And you are a very, very naughty human.” She shook her finger.

“Sorry?” The woman seemed vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. “You wouldn’t happen to drive a taxi or have a g*y brother who gives kissing lessons, would you?” Helena asked.

Cimil pointed innocently at her own chest. “Me? Nooo.”

Helena frowned. “Sorry, but who are you, again?”

“You should be sorry! You’ve totally ruined my fun. You just had to make the one choice that would tip the scales of fate toward the bad guys so when the apocalypse comes, they win.”

“Apocalypse?”

Cimil perched her hand on one hip and shook her finger again. “Now the other gods are totally peeved at me, and I have to do all the cleanup to set everything on the right path again.”

Gods? Cimil? The name suddenly clicked. “Oh my god, you’re the one who put Niccolo to sleep.”

“First, it’s…oh my goddessss. Get it right. And second, thank you for finally joining me in The Land of Nooo-Really?” Cimil said.

Helena, who wasn’t sure how to react, just stared blankly while her mind raced.

Cimil then closed her eyes and took a slow breath. “I am a good goddess. I am kind. I am a good goddess. I am kind.” Her eyes flipped open. “All better. Where was I?”

Helena was about to say that she had no clue, but Cimil jumped in again. “Ah, yes! I was explaining how you’ve totally mucked everything up, and now I have to fix it—you can thank me later.” She waived her hand through the air.

Helena had the urge to run to the door and begin screaming again—this time for help. Cimil was scary.

“First,” Cimil said, “you are correct that Andrus plans to kill Reyna, and therefore any of her disciples would automatically perish. But what you don’t know is that if the good vampires die, we won’t have enough soldiers to fight on our side when the Great War comes. It’s the reason we didn’t off the queen ourselves. ‘Cause, she’s one crazy bitch I’d like to take down.”

Mrs. Kettle, meet your long lost, red headed stepchild…Ms. Pot.

“But you’re a goddess. Can’t you step in and do something to stop Andrus?” Helena asked.

Cimil rolled her eyes. “Hellooo. What does it look like I’m doing? Does this not just scream ‘divine intervention?’” She made two fists and started air boxing.

Helena stepped back again. “No. I meant, just go upstairs and stop Andrus and his men from killing Reyna. Lock him up or something.”

Cimil froze. “What? Am I speaking the wrong species again? I thought I had that glitch all fixed.”

She held her hand to her throat. “Testing. Testing. Nope. I’m speaking human.” She began speaking loudly, “Let me turn up the volume so you understand better. Is this better?”

Helena nodded cautiously.

“Good,” Cimil bellowed. “If I could stop them, don’t you think I would? But I can no more intervene with their freewill than I can yours.” Cimil leaned over and pointed up. “It’s against the rules,” she whispered. “A major no-no. And the last time we pissed off the Creator, he took away some of our powers.”

It was all becoming too much. Vampires, gods, Demilords, and a Creator. What next? Aliens? Vampire aliens? Vampire alien gods? Helena shook it off. “But didn’t you put Niccolo to sleep for three-hundred years?” she asked.

“Sure, but he asked for my help; that’s allowed. Check the rule book.” She pointed to a twelve-inch thick book on the shelf behind her, entitled in black, bold letters RULE BOOK.