Home > GOD OF TEMPTATION(7)

GOD OF TEMPTATION(7)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

“My point,” his chest puffed out and fell with a deep sigh, “is that I am tired, Cimil. I simply want to live my life in peace with my beautiful wife and children. I have given; I have fought; I have suffered and paid my dues to this world. And now, it is my turn to live—however long the Universe is willing to allow it.”

Cimil blew out a slow breath, the guilt ticking away like a bug bomb inside her wriggling gut. The truth was she wasn’t happy either. Nothing she ever did was right, and she wasn’t sure how much of her own insanity she could take.

Sure, some days were utterly delightful, like when she used her goddess gifts to hunt down treasures at garage sales. One can never have too many Thigh Masters. Or bingo nights with the bacon trolls and Bigfoot. But lately, those days of leisurely bliss were few and far between.

“Can’t you see, brother, I am trying to make everything right. But I can’t control all the variables or the Universe. I can only tug and pull on the strings available to me, and those strings are always wiggling, always connected to consequences. Sometimes the strings are ten thousand pieces of yarn, and each must be woven into a colorful tapestry depicting squirrels with backpacks sitting around a campfire, roasting marshmallows. It’s not easy to see the squirrels through the trees! And it’s not easy deciding which disaster is better than another.”

Votan groaned with trepidation. “Have you ever considered just stopping? Stop meddling. Stop trying to change our fates. Stop injecting your insanity into everyone’s lives.”

“Why would I do that?” It was her purpose. Create chaos. Resolve chaos. Repeat.

“It is the only lever you haven’t pulled, Cimil.”

He had a point. “But what if I do nothing and the world is eaten by an enormous reptile in a tracksuit? What then, huh?”

Votan stood again and took her hand, speaking in a restrained voice. “Then it does, sister. But it is time. We must let go. The age of gods is over. We’ve all known this for some time.”

He was right again. The gods were never meant to be permanent fixtures in this world. More like training wheels. Eventually, humans would have to decide their own fates. The gods would fade off into the sunset and become nothing more than folklore, legends, and made-up stories from the past. It was already happening. China and India were once strongholds with their plentiful varieties of gods and love of edible offerings, but now half the world no longer believed in the gods. Millions more each day were choosing to worship at the altar of the iPhone instead of making pilgrimages to Cimil’s temples to revel in her awesomeness or offer up their virgin daughters. Seriously, people just don’t know how to prioritize anymore.

“I understand.” Cimil groaned frustratedly. “And I know you are right about letting go, but what about our children? If I stop meddling, who will protect them or ensure they have a comfy, cozy world to come home to each night?”

“They make their own fates. And we will let them because it is meant to be that way—the natural order of life.”

Ugh… Cimil needed to clear her head and think. Is this truly the end for us? If it was, it meant letting things lie, allowing humans to decide their own fortunes. No attempting to bring immortal life back to Earth. No more godly intervention.

It does sound kind of nice. Live quietly with my family. And then…one day, she would simply allow herself to fade away and rejoin the Universe’s big ball of cosmic energy—the place she came from. Home.

“Fine. You win, Mr. McMuscles. I will attempt to find a way out of here so we can reunite with our families, but the gods must make one last rescue, reach out one last time with a glorious helping hand!”

“For?” Votan arched a thick black brow.

“We must stop the demon king from taking over, and seal him back in his realm.” One last intervention. One last deific hurrah. And then retirement.

 

 

CHAPTER FIVE

 

 

When Zac woke, it was to the sensations of warm sand in his ass crack and the hot morning sun burning holes through his eyelids. Something did not feel right, like a sickness crawling under his skin.

Slowly, he sat up, blinking away the grit stuck to his lashes. What in the name of the gods is that smell? It was like a bad cheese had sex with a skunk and gave birth to a whole new level of ripeness.

Gurgle, gurgle!

He looked to his side at the tiny hot spring bubbling away. The opening was no bigger than a dinner plate.

Mystery solved. That was a tiny demon portal. No wonder he and the other gods had missed it. Unfortunately, it meant he’d been right about being wrong or—whatever! What he meant was he’d gone into that conversation with Maury making lots of assumptions. Bad assumptions.

Zac was going to have to up his game and tread carefully, because the deal was struck, and the gods only knew what other surprises Maury had in store. Especially if demons had in fact been making visits to the human world during the gods’ absence.

Zac lifted his arm to block the glare of the morning sun. Where the hell was he? Dry hot desert stretched for miles in every direction with only an occasional desiccated bush to break up the scenery.

Off in the distance was a city with odd shapes in the skyline. Farther off were rolling foothills and mountains.

Vegas. Of course. What better place for demons to hide a portal?

Zac got to his feet and stretched his arms, noting an odd sensation in his limbs. So heavy. He glanced at his right arm, which resembled a pork haunch. “What!”

He looked down at his legs. Fleshy tree stumps. “Oh gods.” He’d completely forgotten about being placed in Hilbert’s body.

Zac pressed his hands to his face, feeling lumpy, protruding cheekbones and bumpy skin on his bulbous forehead. Great, I’m Mr. Potato Head.

He inspected his hands with little bratwurst fingers and brown-stained fingernails. His feet had black toenails like charred tree bark. Nasty. Don’t demons know how to do manis and pedis?

Slowly, his gaze fell between his legs. No! No! Nooo… Where his glorious cock once hung, there was a gangly little spaghetti noodle. Three inches? How the fuck am I supposed to seduce anyone with this?

Hilbert was lucky he had personality, because this body was like a rotten onion. When you peeled back the layers, it revealed all sorts of slime and stench. Couldn’t entice a moss nymph with this monstrosity.

No, no. Do not say that. I am still Zac, God of Temptation. My winning personality and charm are all I need. Some clothes would be nice, too. At least he was free from those horrid rusty chains.

But where was Tula?

She was the point of all this. He had two weeks to prove she would love him no matter which body he occupied.

Still, he needed a plan. He couldn’t burn up the clock searching for her.

All right. Where would she be?

My woman would be waiting for my return, making calls, checking in with the Uchben to see if I’ve been spotted. She would be working out of a home base, and that place would be the Immortal Matchmakers, Inc., office.

His heart fluttered, albeit a strange and irregular demon flutter reminiscent of a stalling car engine, but a flutter no less. He could not wait to see his beautiful, sweet Tula. If anything, he needed to see her smile again and ease her worried mind. She had to be miserable without him.

Zac started hiking toward civilization, his feet burning in the hot sand. Actually, not so bad. He lifted one foot and inspected the inch-thick layer of calluses. Demon feet.

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