Accidentally...Over?: Accidentally Yours 5 (29 page)

The blonde, Anne, smiled. “Uh… yeah. Minky’s been hiding out in your room since you arrived. Apocalypses make her nervous. Didn’t you notice?”

Ashli shook her head no.

“Minky is mostly harmless, except when she gets in a cuddly mood.”

“Huh?”
Okay. Now I know I’ve gone off the deep end.
She turned to escape but encountered a third woman standing against the door. She was extremely tall, especially compared to Ashli’s five feet and one inch of vertical presence. This woman didn’t wear a referee outfit, however, but instead had on a bunny costume sorta. Black satin short shorts, platform shoes, a teeny tiny tank top, and pink fluffy bunny ears that matched her giant fluffy wings. And a lit cigar. That was sorta bunny. Right?

“Who are you?” Ashli asked, hoping and praying that the woman would not reply with, “The Easter Bunny.” Because, yeah, that would be the final straw.

“She’s Nicole,” replied Anne, who stood so close behind Ashli that her entire body now tingled.

“Our boss,” added Jess.

“Friends call me Nick.” Ashli watched in awe as the cigar-smoking bunny puffed out a giant ball of smoke
that formed a heart, which evaporated into thin air. “Hiya.”

“But I… I…”
Screw this happily living out your final days bull crap. It’s probably overrated anyway.
“Can I leave, please?” She wondered if she could talk one of those vampires into opening the portal and returning her to 1993.

“You,” Anne said, “may go just as soon as you listen.”

There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home. Ohmygod, heeeelp.

The bunny lady lifted a brow. “Really? Really? You went Oz on us?”

They can hear my thoughts?

Bunny lady looked at Anne and Jess. “Wow. This is the chosen one? Thank heavens she doesn’t have to do anything complicated or we’d all be shopping for a new Universe for sure.”

Ashli’s mouth fell open. Then she snapped it shut, closed her eyes, and took a breath, waiting a moment before she reopened them.
Dammit. They’re still there!

“Aaaand she’s back. Great.” Jess removed the whistle hanging around her neck and placed it over Ashli’s head. “All you need to do is remember that when the trouble starts, blow that whistle—it’s the only help you’re getting from us. It’s up to you to stop them. Understand?”

Not even.
“Blow the whistle and stop them?”
Who? From doing what?
“Can you be a little more specific? ’Cause I’d really love to know what the hell you’re talking about.”

The three women exchanged glances. “Did you just say ‘hell’ to a group of angels?” they replied in unison.

Ashli sighed. Why did everything have to be so strange? She ran her hands over her face. “I need to get
out of here.” Maybe she’d hit her head getting out of the limo.

“No,” Anne said. “You need to stay.”

“Give her the whammy already,” said Jess. “Belch is making pousse-cafés, and I’m not missing out this time. I hear the flame is twelve inches high.”

“Fine.” Anne stepped forward, and Ashli stepped back. “Listen, Ash. I’ll make it short and sweet. Once upon a time, many thousands of years ago, humans were created. And angels—hello, that’s us, if you were wondering—were created to keep watch over humans. The Creator is too busy running the cosmos and all, so she’s gotta have help. Yunno? But it didn’t take long for the Creator to see we weren’t exactly cut out for the job. Not because we don’t rock, but because humans are flawed. We are not. Anywing, we stopped being relevant because we find it hard to relate, because we don’t understand what it’s like to be flawed. Yada yada.

“So the Creator decided to bridge the gap by creating the gods—flawed, quirky, and well, downright childish at times. Great plan, except there’s another problem. Humans evolve. Rather quickly. Which means the gods, too, are fast becoming obsolete. Irrelevant. I mean, really. When’s the last time you saw a new monument built to those clowns? Anywing, the Creator was about to throw in the towel, but
we
threw down a challenge instead. We saw potential in the gods. So we made a bet; if we could prove the gods capable of evolving, the Creator would let us keep the planet.

“Fast-forward to present day. Some of the gods have made progress—learning humility, how to love and share their power—but it’s not enough. They must all prove
they’re capable of real change or we all die; the Creator’s going to scrap the whole terrarium and start over again.”

“What? Scrap? Why? Creator?” Ashli said, holding back an epic meltdown.

“Wow. Ain’t she full o’ them big ol’ words,” said the bunny thug or whatever her name was.

“Why are you telling me all this?” Ashli muttered.

“Because,” Anne said, “sometimes it just takes one person to turn the tides. One simple act. One simple gesture. But it must be out of love.”

“Every ocean starts with one drop of water,” added Jess.

“So tonight,” Anne continued, “when the time comes, you will blow that whistle and do your thing.”

“Huh?” Ashli didn’t quite understand.

“And you will forget”—Anne snapped her fingers—“that we ever had this conversation, but you will remember what you must do.”

“Okay. I will forget. And remember. But are you really…” Her voiced tapered off, and Ashli stood in the bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror.

What am I doing here? I need a drink!

Ashli wandered out into the party to find a cocktail for her unsteady nerves. She’d been there all of four minutes and had already been threatened by a beekeeper, fended off Máax’s seductive package, been insulted by sex fairies, and then been accosted by…

Hmmm. That’s strange. I can’t remember.
What was she about to do?

Find a supersized dirty martini, remember?
Hopefully one that didn’t contain anything otherworldly. Just good, old-fashioned vodka or gin. Or both. Hell. Didn’t matter.

She stood on her tiptoes trying to spot the bar.
There!
A long line of people gathered around an elevated counter. Behind it stood a man who wore nothing but a giant wine barrel with a strap over each shoulder.

She made her way over and watched as he lined up ten glasses and proceeded to pour various multicolored liquids into them like a cocktail assembly line. The tenth glass he lifted to his mouth and gulped it down while people helped themselves to the full glasses. He repeated the task three more times before Ashli moved to the front of the line. The man, tall and rather good-looking, though clearly inebriated and in dire need of a comb, stopped his drink slinging and looked straight at her.

“Coming right up,” he said and began mixing a dirty martini with blue cheese olives. Just the way she liked it.

“But how did you know that’s what I wanted?” she asked as he placed the jumbo-sized martini glass right in front of her.

“He’s Belch, the God of Wine and Intoxication,” said a male voice at her side.

“Brutus. Ohmygod. Hi.”

“It’s been a long time.” He hugged her, but did not let go.

Okay there, big boy.
She wiggled loose. “Feels like a few days to me.”

“Twenty years,” Brutus said with regret. “Twenty long years.”

Oh no. Poor guy. Changing subjects.

“So.” She glanced back at the bartender. “Is he really the god of alcohol?”

“The nammme’s Acan,” the bartender slurred and winked at her.

Sure. They have a deity for bees, why not beer, too?
Did they have a deity for clearance sales, as well? How about bacon and eggs? Those were important, right?

Ashli simply stared as he whipped up another batch of drinks, then lit them on fire.
Wow.

“So. You enjoying the party?” Brutus asked.

“It’s a party to celebrate the end of the world,” she replied. “So, I’m not sure exactly.”

“Drink,” Acan slurred from behind the bar. “It will make you feel betewww.” He winked again before moving his attention to the next person in line, a man with a three-foot-tall, silver-and-jade headdress with a serpent eating some corn. She felt compelled to comment, but then noticed his turquoise eyes and long silvery hair cascading down to his ankles.

Another deity.
Actually, this one she remembered from the prison. He’d been throwing lightning bolts inside his cell.

Ashli stepped back a few feet, plucked the olive from her enormous martini glass, and threw back her drink.
Wow.
It was the best dang martini she’d ever had.

Without saying a word, the deity from behind the bar placed another in front of her. Wow. He knew she’d need two? Now those were some awesome powers.

She reached for it greedily. “Thank you.”

The man bobbed his head and poured more drinks, which he again lit on fire. This time the flames reached two feet in height. The crowd applauded and then scooped them up.

“He’s pretty impressive,” she said to Brutus, who she now realized wore no costume. “Are you working?”

Brutus nodded yes. “Someone’s got to keep the order. My men tend to get pretty wound up when the game gets to the final round.”

Ashli sipped her second drink. “Game?”

“Yes. It’s a tradition. The annual Uchben play-offs. We skipped last year’s. Too much going on and Cimil was AWOL—she usually organizes the event—but we normally get together once a year, celebrate, and have a friendly game between the two teams: mortals versus immortals. The mortals always win because they have better reflexes; drives Cimil mad.”

“Okay. I was about to say that I’d seen it all, heard it all, but somehow I just know that only means it’s about to get weirder.” Ashli began scanning the crowd, wondering where Máax was. No, she didn’t want to talk to him, but she wanted to look at him. She couldn’t help it. He was his own force of nature. Irresistible, sexy, and so over-the-top masculine that she couldn’t stop wanting him even though she knew he’d only end up hurting her again.

Brutus grinned. “Weird is a good word for it. You are catching on to the way of our world, I see.”

Ashli shrugged. “What’s left of it, anyway.”

“There are never any guarantees in life, Ashli. You of all people know that.”

She shrugged. “How can you be so calm about all this? I look at this room filled with people who are all going to die because of me.”
Wow.
Where had that come from?

“No, Ashli. None of this is your fault.”

She gave it a moment of thought but still came to the same conclusion: It was her fault. If only she could have stayed in 1993 and found a way to survive.

She glanced over at a group of women standing next to them, laughing and hugging. One held an adorable little girl in her arms dressed as a ladybug with fangs.

Ashli’s heart sank a little further.

Brutus squeezed her shoulder. “I know what you’re thinking, but if you asked, they wouldn’t blame you either so neither should you.”

“I wish there was a way to fix this.”

Brutus took a deep breath. “Perhaps there is. But you won’t solve it tonight.” His cell phone beeped, and he slid it from his pocket to read the message. “It’s time. The final round. I better get over to the table before Cimil hurts someone. Come, you can watch.”

Ashli glanced over her shoulder, feeling Máax’s eyes on her, but with the dim lighting and extra-tall crowd, it was hard to spot anything beyond what was directly in front of her. She followed Brutus’s hulking form through the mob of partygoers, which became denser as they neared the sound of Cimil’s cackle.

“That’s right, bitches. We’re gonna win! I’m not letting the world end without that fucking trophy. It’s mine!” Cimil’s cackle turned into a strange howl.

Ashli peeked between Brutus and another large man. The people around the table either booed or cheered.

At the table, Cimil stood across from the mean blonde lady from earlier.
Fate?
An older gentleman wearing a Catholic priest’s outfit stood next to Cimil, and across from him was a woman about Ashli’s size with long dark hair, dressed as a clown.

“Wait a second,” Ashli said loudly, trying to be heard above the noise of the cheering, “are they playing…”

“Hungry Hungry Hippos,” Brutus finished her sentence.

Okaaaay.
Yes, grown adults and seventy-thousand-year-old beings were facing off to a fierce game of Hungry Hungry Hippos. Seemed a little inappropriate given the horrific situation facing them all. But then again, they
were at a party to celebrate the end. Piling on the inappropriate seemed par for the course.

“The last play-off was Barrel of Monkeys. It is a different game every year,” Máax said from behind Ashli.

Máax…
Oh, great, just what she needed. Another whiff of her Kryptonite for all intelligent thought. Her body immediately reacted to him, heating up ten degrees. Hotter in other places.

Máax and Brutus exchanged alpha male glances and then nodded at each other.

“So why is there so much security?” Ashli asked.

“Cimil takes it quite seriously,” Máax replied. “The mortals win every year and not for lack of trying on our part. It seems we fall short on intuitive capability and hand-eye coordination when compared to humans. And of course, we’re not allowed to use any powers.”

Cimil stood in front of her little station, furiously flicking the lever, gobbling up the plastic marbles bouncing around in the center of the game. “Yes! Two more and we win!”

“Over my dead body!” yelled the priest, who apparently took the game just as seriously. “We’ve got the big man on our side!”

“Stuff it, Xavier. You’re not taking that trophy!” Fate barked, her hips twisting back and forth while she worked the flapping hippo mouth.

Ashli couldn’t believe her eyes. Once again, she had the urge to say that now, yes, now, she’d seen it all, but now she simply knew better.

Suddenly, Cimil pointed at something up on the ceiling. “Ohmygod. Look!”

The crowd’s gaze zeroed in on something above them,
but Ashli didn’t look away. She didn’t know why. Maybe she was still in shock that actual, real live gods were playing a priest and clown? But her eyes remained glued to Cimil.