Vampires Need Not...Apply? by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff Read Free Book Online

demons might chase her for eternity. But perhaps, just perhaps, she’d come to his apartment for another reason all together: hope.
    She slid off her veil, draped it on the coat hook, and inspected the living room. Nothing much to see there: gleaming hardwood floors, large flat screen, glass coffee table, and a navy-blue leather couch. Aside from the air being a bit stale and the decorum seriously lacking a woman’s touch, the place was nondescript. And remarkably tidy for a single male.
    She passed by a large beveled mirror mounted to the wall and caught her reflection. She looked… awful. No, her overall appearance never changed, not really, but her long, chocolate-brown hair, turquoise eyes, and bronzed skin seemed noticeably duller, as if she’d been soaked in chlorine or left to fade in the sun. Her lack of enthusiasm for life was finally catching up to her.
    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