Sun God Seeks…Surrogate? (Accidentally Yours #3)(56)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

“Did someone make sure there are plenty of pretzels on the table?”

He laughed. “Ay. That we did.”

“And a fire extinguisher?”

He nodded yes.

“How about a beekeeper suit?”

Again he nodded.

Kinich finally spoke up. “Penelope, please stop wasting time. The world’s fate lies in our hands.”

“Oh. Right.” I took a deep breath. “Alrighty, then. Let’s summit.”

The doors opened and Gabrán stepped to one side.

CHAPTER 31

Unlike the rest of Kinich’s ostentatious Southwestern-style estate, this room could have been a chamber located in the bowels of Chichén Itzá during its heyday when Mayan kings roamed the Yucatán and built massive pyramids in honor of the gods. The walls and high ceilings were pale, with every square inch covered in hieroglyphics of animals, men, suns, moons, and stalks of wheat and corn.

Is that…? I pointed to the wall to my right and looked at Gabrán. “A glyph of Kathy Griffin?” It was an image about the size of a dinner plate, but the resemblance was uncanny.

“Ay. Cimil is a big fan. She insisted we pay homage.”

Sure. Why the hell not?

My eyes continued wandering over the windowless room. Recessed lighting illuminated the chamber, giving it an eerie glow. In the center was a large, smooth limestone table with six throne-like chairs on each side and one at each end. The fourteen thrones were carved with different symbols: dragons, flowers, and…

“Penises?” I pointed to the throne toward the middle on the left side.

“Ay, lass,” Gabrán said in a melancholy tone, “’twas Chaam’s.”

Nice. This was where the fate of humankind was decided? Upon thrones adorned with critters and man-goodies?

Suuure, why not?

“Very impressive. Who’s your decorator?” I said.

“Ah. I hear the judgmental tone. But this was far better than the country-western barn theme that Cimil wanted, complete with goats and bales of hay for seats. At least this is fireproof and produces no manure.”

“Good choice.”

I pivoted on my heel to inspect the rest of the room. At the far end was another doorway leading to a small chamber with wall-to-wall texts. There was also an enormous flat screen TV mounted on the wall to my left.

“What’s that for?”

“Movie night,” Gabrán responded. “The room has built-in surround sound and if ya press this”—he pointed to a giant, red button on the wall—“the table and thrones flip over an’ turn into theater seats. Verra modern, ’tis it not?”

“Oh, definitely…” not to mention so very, very weird. I could only guess what sort of movies they watched.

The Gods Must Be Crazy. Definitely.

A quiet shuffling caught my attention. Fierce-looking Uchben solders filed inside the chamber, lining up against the parameter of the room. Like Brutus, they wore black tees, cargoes, and boots. This must’ve been Gabrán’s elite team I’d heard him mention a few times—Brutus was one, I think.

“Lass, time for you to take your seat.” Gabrán pointed to the throne at the head of the table. The back had a large sun chiseled into it. Set out, directly in front of my seat, was the stone tablet and silver stylus Kinich had told me about. They were used to record the agenda and any decisions.

I slipped into the seat and tried to steady my nerves. Be the honey badger. Be the honey badger. I am the honey badger.

The way Kinich explained it, there was nothing to be afraid of, but keeping order was difficult. The gods tended to behave like petulant siblings looking to outdo one another. Fights often broke out, which was bad because decisions didn’t get made. Therefore, keeping everyone to the protocols and rules was Kinich’s, and now my, main function.

The room began to hum and vibrate. I froze.

“It’s all right, Penelope. Just relax. They are coming,” Kinich spoke in a low, calming voice.

“What’s happening?” I asked.

“They are releasing a little energy. It’s for show. Simply stay calm and don’t allow them to distract you with their theatrics.”

The first to enter was K’ak—don’t laugh, don’t laugh—and, like the evening before, he wore a blue toga. His silver-streaked hair hung to his ankles and his jade headdress made him an ergonomic accident waiting to happen.

“That looks really heavy. Do you do neck exercises?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“Among other parts of my body. Would you care to see?” He reached for the hem of his toga and began lifting.

“Oh no. I’ll take your word for it.”

He shrugged, dropped the fabric, and set a small, onyx turtle in front of me. “You forgot to take your offerings yesterday.”

Oh no. Not this again.

I pasted a smile on my face. “Thanks.”

The room rumbled loudly, like a passing train, as they entered the room one by one, left their “gifts,” and then took their seats.

I held back a gasp as suicide lady—again dressed in a veil and head-to-toe black—plopped her dead rat on top of the pile of goodies. “Wow. Thank you. And, it’s a day older now, too.” So, so special. Yes…

Finally, Zac sauntered in. Like the day before, he looked exquisite and undeniably masculine. No, I wasn’t in the market, but I couldn’t help but appreciate his large, well-built body donning leather pants that hugged his powerful thighs.

I blinked and then snapped my gaping mouth shut.

“Your box.” Smiling, he held it out for me to see.

I looked at it, then at him. I had no idea what I was supposed to do.

“Wow. That’s a…really, really nice…empty box,” I said loudly, hoping Kinich would sense my discomfort and throw me a bone.

“It is for the rat, Penelope,” Kinich advised.

“Oh! How thoughtful. Thank you.” I plucked the rat up by the tippy-tip of its tale and dropped it inside, closing the lid quickly.

With a smile and a dip of the head, Zac’s thick waves of black hair slid over his icy aquamarine eyes. “My pleasure.”

My entire body broke out in goose bumps. Wow. I didn’t know what he was the god of, but I voted that Zac be the new God of Male Virility. He looked like a hunky, fallen dark angel that had taken up modeling bad-boy clothing. I know. Weird, right? But that’s what he reminded of, and he wore the look well.

Zac took his seat next to me and continued grinning with what had to be the most blatant, flirtatious smile ever to walk the face of the planet—if smiles could walk, that is. In any case, my inner girly-girl couldn’t help but be flattered.