Vampires Need Not…Apply? (Accidentally Yours #4)(11)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

She’d have to pay a visit to the Goddess of Forgetfulness soon; maybe that would help her to move on. If only I could remember how to find her…

Ixtab went over to the window and pushed it open, stopping to admire the early morning sun climbing up over the cityscape. The air outside was crisp and cold, but even this many stories up, it smelled thick with winter pollution. Funny how after all these decades, the unnatural odors of industrialized man still bothered her. Give her mountains, trees, and sunshine any day over this.

Ixtab wandered into the sparkling clean kitchen also finding it with little personality—gray glass tile, another television, and a glass breakfast table. She tugged open the stainless steel fridge and crinkled her nose at its contents. Yuck. Healthy stuff.

Now that’s where she drew the line with nature. Didn’t he have any junk food?Fruit, yogurt, soy cheese—ick, and… hmmm, okay. Beer. She grabbed one and popped off the top.

Ummm. At least he had good taste in something.

She chugged the rich, creamy contents and dumped the bottle into the stainless steel sink. She wandered down the hallway, also bare of any personal effects—not a painting, photo, or tchotchke to be found in the entire place. She found his bedroom and stood in the doorway, staring longingly at the empty, unmade bed. She imagined Francisco lying there, beckoning her to come to him.

Dammit! You’re being ridiculous. You know this man is not your departed soul mate. Nevertheless, as ludicrous as it might be, she couldn’t help but want proof, anything to cement her squarely in the jaws of reality and smother her ridiculous fantasy that this man might actually be his reincarnation. A second chance…

Ixtab sat down on the bed and ran her hand over the soft, gray, satin pillow. The man’s head had rested there. Would he smell like Francisco? That sweet, spicy, masculine smell she’d become addicted to? That she missed so much?

She lifted the pillow to her nose. “Cheap perfume,” Ixtab growled and threw it down. She pulled open the top nightstand drawer and stared in bewilderment at the pile of condoms inside. “XXL. For the all-night lover?” she said. A whole drawer full of them? Manhooker!

Dammit! Why had she come here instead of going straight to the hospital to get this over with? There was nothing in this apartment that would tell her what she didn’t already know: Francisco was dead. She killed him, and he wasn’t coming back. Period. End of story.

Ixtab stood and felt something brush her leg. “Oh, shit!” The large orange cat shrieked and then dove back under the bed.

“Oh no! Kitty.” Ixtab got down on all fours. “Come here, kitty. Come to Ixtaaaab.” The cat’s golden eyes, wide and full of fear, told her the dang critter wasn’t coming anywhere near her. “Dammit, kitty. Why did you touch me? Why?”

Ixtab swiped for the cat, but it was out of reach. Shit. She had to do something fast before the cat choked itself on its own tail or…

The cat bolted from underneath the bed and out into the hall. Ixtab froze. Hell. The window!

Ixtab ran to the living room just in time to see the tail disappear outside.

“No!” She stopped at the sill and looked down, but there was nothing she could do. The cat was gone. And dead. Very dead.

Ixtab slid down onto the floor, gripping the sides of her head. Why? Why? Why? How could she have killed the guy’s cat? No, she didn’t actually pick the poor little creature up and chuck it out the window, but she felt just as responsible. Poor, poor kitty…

Gods she was so fed up with this! So sick and tired of being the bringer of self-imposed death. It wasn’t fair. She didn’t want to kill—well, not unintentionally, anyway. But hell! The Universe had a sick, sick sense of humor.

A small blinking light and a beep from underneath the sofa caught her attention. Sniffling, she crawled over and found a cell phone. It was on its last legs and needed a charge.

One hundred and fifteen messages? She wiped her nose on her black lace sleeve and pressed play. “Antonio, this is Vanessa. Where you been, baby? Call me back.” “I gotta itch tonight, Dr. Acero, wanna scratch it? Call me.” “Meowww, Antonio. Want to play with my puss—”

What the…? I guess he’s not going to miss the damned cat. He’s got backups all ready to go!

As each message played, Ixtab felt the rage build and the fantasy of him being something more than just a Francisco look-alike slip further and further away until it died with a gruesome twitch right then and there. This Antonio Acero was a womanizer, a man whore, and clearly inconsiderate of anyone’s feelings. The messages, which became more and more desperate as the women concluded Antonio would not be calling them back, were a testament to his lack of respect for them or their feelings.

Ixtab slowly picked herself up, still crying. “Well, I guess you got what you came for. This is not Francisco, and now you have proof.” The man she once knew was the most caring, compassionate being on the planet. He’d never use women in such a way.

Now she could truly put the past behind her. Francisco was gone. And she needed to forgive herself. You’ve just taken the first step.

Then why was she so damned angry? Shouldn’t she feel liberated?

Maybe because someone needed to pay this Antonio man a visit and let him know that treating women like single-serve coffee cups wasn’t okay.

Ixtab smiled. “I so love it when I get to be someone.”

* * *

“But Mr. Acero,” the nurse pleaded, “he’s your brother. Why don’t you want to see—”

“Coño! I said no. And if you haven’t noticed, I am unable to see anything or anyone. My goddamned life is over.” Why was everyone trying to convince him that everything would be all right?Caray. Nothing would be all right. Not one goddamned thing because he blew it.

The nurse sighed. “You and I both know you hit your head. The doctor thinks it could be reversible.”

Right. He knew how this game was played. They’d fill him full of hope only to deliver the bad news later. “I don’t give a shit what the doctor says. I do not want to see anyone. And I do not want to eat; I’m not hungry. Just get the f**k out! Let me die!”

Antonio knew his brother remained camped outside in the waiting area, but he couldn’t bear to face him. Not after this. Without sight, his work would have to stop and there would be no hope in changing their fates. And, as if to torment him further, the nightmares only worsened. Day and night, those turquoise eyes clawed at the inner sanctum of his mind, the mysterious woman frantically pleading for salvation. A salvation he would never deliver. Not to her. Not to anyone.