Bottom line? Not going so great.
Helena, the blonde who held two bags of blood in her lap, reached for Penelope and smoothed down her frizzy hair. "Don't worry. Kinich will wake up. He will."
Pen nodded. She must look like a mess. Why hadn't she taken the time to at least run a brush through her hair for him? He loved her dark hair. Maybe because she didn't truly believe he'd come back to life. "I don't know what's worse, thinking I've lost him forever or knowing if he wakes up, he'll be something he hates."
Emma chimed in, "He doesn't hate vampires. He hates being immortal."
Pen shrugged. "Guess it really doesn't matter now what he hates." Kinich would either wake up or he wouldn't. If he didn't, she might not have the will to go on without him. Too much had happened. She needed him. She loved him. And most of all, she wanted him to know she was sorry for ever doubting him. He'd given his life to save them all.
Tick.
Another move of the hand.
Tock.
And another.
Nine more minutes.
The doorbell jolted the three women.
"Dammit." Emma, who wore her combat-ready outfit-black cargos and a black tee that made her red hair look like the flame on the tip of a match-marched to the door. "I told everyone not to disturb us."
Penelope knew that would never happen. A few hundred soldiers lurked outside and a handful of deities waited in the kitchen, snacking on cookies; new vampires weren't known to be friendly. But Penelope insisted on having only her closest friends by her side for the moment of truth. Besides, Helena was a new vampire herself-a long story-and knew what to do.
Emma unlocked the dead bolt. "Some idiot probably forgot my orders. I'll send him away-" The door flew open with a cold gust of desert wind and debris. It took a moment for the three women to register who stood in the doorway.
The creature, with long, matted dreads beaded with human teeth, wore nothing more than a loincloth over her soot-covered body.
Christ almighty, it can't be, thought Pen, as the smell of Maaskab-good old-fashioned, supernatural, pre-Hispanic death and darkness-entered her nose.
Before Emma could drop a single f-bomb, the dark priestess raised her hand and blew Emma across the large, open living room, slamming her against the wall.
Helena screamed and rushed to Emma's side.
Paralyzed with fear, Penelope watched helplessly as the Maaskab woman glided into the living room and stood before her, a mere two yards away.
The woman raised her gaunt, grimy finger, complete with overgrown grime-caked fingernail, and pointed directly at Penelope. "Youuuu."
Holy wheat toast. Penelope instinctively stepped back. The woman's voice felt like razor blades inside her ears. Penelope had to think fast. Not only did she fear for her life and for those of her friends, but both she and Emma were pregnant. Helena had a baby daughter. Think, dammit. Think.
Penelope considered drawing the power of the sun, an ability she'd recently gained when she had become the interim Sun God-another long story-but releasing that much heat into the room might fry everyone in it.
Grab the monster's arm. Channel it directly into her.
"Youuuu," the Maaskab woman said once again.
"Damn, lady." Penelope covered her ears. "Did you swallow a bucket of rusty nails? That voice … gaaaahh."
The monster grunted. "I come with a message."
"For me?" Penelope took a step forward.
The woman nodded, and her eyes, pits of blackness framed with cherry red, clawed at Penelope's very soul. "It is for you I bring … the message."
Jeez. I get it. You have a message. Penelope took another cautious step toward the treacherous woman. "So what are you waiting for?"
"Pen, get away from her," she heard Emma grumble from behind.
Not on your life. Pen moved another inch. "I'm waiting, old woman. Wow me."
The Maaskab growled.
Another step.
"Don't hurt my grandmother," Emma pleaded.
Grandma? Oh, for Pete's sake. This was Emma's grandmother? The one who'd been taken by the Maaskab and turned into their evil leader? They all thought she'd been killed.
Fabulous. Granny's back.
For a fraction of a moment, the woman glanced over Pen's shoulder at Emma.
Another step.
Penelope couldn't let Emma's feelings cloud the situation. Granny was dangerous. Granny was evil. Granny was going down.
"We wish"-the old Maaskab woman ground out her words-"to make an exchange."
Penelope froze. "An exchange?"
The woman nodded slowly. "You will free our king, and we will return your prisoners."
Shit. Free Chaam? The most evil deity ever known? He'd murdered hundreds, perhaps thousands of women, many his own daughters. His sole purpose in life was to destroy every last living creature, except for the Maaskab and his love slaves.
No. They could never let that bastard out.
But what about the prisoners? She debated with herself. In the last battle, the Maaskab had trapped forty of their most loyal vampire soldiers, the God of Death and War, aka Emma's fiancé, and the General of the Vampire Army, aka Helena's husband.
Dammit. Dammit. Crispy-fried dammit! Penelope had to at least consider Granny's proposal. "Why in the world would we agree to let Chaam go?"
"A bunch of pathetic … little … girls … cannot triumph against us," the Maaskab woman hissed. "You need the vampires and your precious God of Death and War."
Penelope's brain ran a multitude of scenarios, trying to guess the angle. Apparently, the Maaskab needed Chaam back. But they were willing to give up Niccolo and Guy? Both were powerful warriors, perfectly equipped to kick the Maaskab's asses for good.
No. Something wasn't quite right. "Tell me why you want Chaam," Penelope said.
Another step.
"Because"-Granny flashed an odious grin-"the victory of defeating you will be meaningless without our beloved king to see it. All we do, we do for him."
Ew. Okay.
"You, on the other hand … " She lowered her gravelly voice one octave. " … Do not have a chance without your men. We offer a fair fight in exchange for our king's freedom."
Okay. She could be lying. Perhaps not. Anyone with a brain could see they were three inexperienced young women-yes, filled with passion and purpose and a love of shoes and all things shopping, in the case of Helena and Emma-but they didn't know the first thing about fighting wars. Especially ones that might end in a big hairy apocalypse prophesied to be just eight months away.
Sure, they had powerful, slightly insane, dysfunctional deities and battalions of beefy vampires and human soldiers on their side. However, that was like giving a tank to a kindergartner. Sort of funny in a Sunday comics Beetle Bailey kinda way, but not in real life.
"Don't agree to it," Helena pleaded from the flank. "We'll find another way to free them."
"She's right, Pen," Emma whimpered, clearly in pain.
Penelope took another step. They were right; they'd have to find some other way to get the prisoners back. Chaam was too dang dangerous. "And if we refuse?"
The Maaskab woman laughed into the air above, her teeth solid black and the inside of her mouth bright red.
Yum. Nothing like gargling with blood to really freshen your breath.
"Then," Granny said, "we shall kill both men-yes, even your precious Votan; we have the means-and the end of days will begin. It is what Chaam would have wanted."
Granny had conveniently left out the part about killing her and her friends before she departed this room. Why else would the evil Maaskab woman have come in person when an evil note would have done the evil job? Or how about an evil text?
No. Emma's grandmother would kill them if the offer was rejected. She knew it in her gut.
Penelope didn't blink. No fear. No fear. The powerful light tingled on the tips of her fingers. She was ready.
"Then you leave us no choice. We agree." Penelope held out her hand. "Shake on it."
The Maaskab woman glanced down at Pen's hand. Pen lunged, grabbed the woman's soot-covered forearm, and opened the floodgates of heat. Evil Granny dropped to her knees, screaming like a witch drowning in a hot, bubbling cauldron.
"No! No!" Emma screamed. "Don't kill her! Don't, Pen!"
Crackers! Penelope released the woman who fell face forward onto the cold Saltillo tile. Steam rose from her naked back and dreadlock-covered skull.
"Grandma? Oh, God, no. Please don't be dead." Emma dropped to her knees beside the eau-de-charred roadkill. "She's still breathing."