Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 48783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 163(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 163(@300wpm)
He made a note to avoid the clown monsters in the future. They were terrifying.
He and Cimil wove through the strange house filled with even stranger objects—marble statues of the goddess, a painting depicting her and an Egyptian pharaoh riding a unicorn, and colorful drawings of vampires eating children, drawn by children.
They kept walking until they reached a set of stairs leading under the home. “This way,” she said.
“What is down there?” he asked.
“My secret fun room. Only, it’s not so secret. Not much fun either.”
Maxton arched a brow and followed.
The room downstairs was even more frightening than the rest of the home, with brightly colored walls and crates that jostled and rumbled against one wall. An enormous fluffy structure in the shape of a castle occupied the center of the room.
Cimil sat in the castle’s entrance, bouncing on her rear, her red ponytail flopping up and down. “Okay, vampire. I’m sure you know why you’re here. I need your help. The world needs your help.”
“You wish me to make more vampires.”
“Ding, ding, ding! You get a prize! But don’t pick any of the wooden boxes. Soulless bodies don’t make good pets. Just stick to the gumballs.” She pointed to a large clear dome filled with balls the size of quail eggs.
He had no idea what they were, but he was not about to put balls in his mouth. “No, thank you. But I am obligated to discuss terms before we continue. The tailor does not wish to choose one of his women to die. They must both live.”
Cimil halted her bouncing. “Okay. Is that all?”
“And I wish to return to my lair as soon as possible.”
“Okay. Anything else?”
“And I will not be turning anyone.”
Cimil stared, her nostrils flaring. “What do you mean, vampire?”
“I do not wish to change anyone. I believe I should be the last vampire. Forever.”
“Are you mad?”
“Vampires are dangerous. They are selfish and greedy and kill indiscriminately just for fun. The world will be a far better place without us.”
“Yeah. No duh, you big duh-head. Why do you think I want them back?”
He blinked. This goddess truly lived up to her reputation. She was nonsensical. “I do not know.”
“The Universe is all about balance. How can one appreciate the beauty of sunshine unless there’s night? Cold days, warm days. Stinky socks, clean socks.” Cimil exhaled. “I’m afraid that there just isn’t enough evil in the world these days with all the immortals gone, so people are just not appreciating life like they used to. And now, because of that, humans are just getting more and more evil.”
“But you just said the problem was a lack of evil.”
“Lack of the right kind of evil,” she said. “If we don’t restore balance and start bringing back the evil creatures with very long lifespans, hell will soon fill up with all these terrible, rotten humans. We’ll run out of space! And that means they’ll overflow into the Underworld. Or, as I call it, the upstairs room where souls play poker until they decide if they want to have another go in a people suit or rejoin the cosmos’s energy soup. But if the Underworld fills up, then there’ll be no room at the tables.”
How was it that the Creator decided to make this hairbrained lunatic immortal? “I am not following, goddess.”
“People’s souls will have nowhere to go! Then humans will stop dying. Except, they’ll still die. Only they won’t.”
“Errr…” Maxton tilted his head to one side. “Dead but not dead? Like me?”
“No, no, Fangy-Cakes. Nothing like you. Imagine the planet filled with dead people who can’t die—all rotting and diseased, not to mention stinky. Do you want the entire planet to become one enormous trash heap of undead?”
Frankly, he could not care less.
She continued, “All you need to do is give your blood to a few people on a list I’ve made, and all will be right in the world again. Is that so much to ask?” She pulled a folded piece of paper from her front pocket and held it up.
“I must respectfully decline.”
Cimil’s face turned as red as her hair. Fine by him. Maybe he would get lucky, and she would kill him.
Cimil got up and began pacing the room, speaking into thin air. “Yes. An excellent idea, Minktoid.” Cimil pointed a gaunt finger at him. “What if I could offer you the one thing you’ve always wanted? I can make you mortal again. And in forty or so years, you’ll die. No more waiting for someone stronger and fiercer to come and kill you. You’ll just kaput!”
Maxton’s cold heart started to rattle with glee. An end to my suffering? “You can do that?”
“I can’t, but I know someone who can.”
I could die. Finally, legitimately die. As a good Catholic. Who obviously has much killing to repent for. “May I have a few days to think it over?”