"The thought had entered my mind as a last resort only. When I realized there'd be no rescue from the other gods, I began to groom you for the task-toughen you up, mentally. I also needed to wait until you were old enough. I thought, perhaps, in another year or two, you'd be ready. Then you pulled that stunt with the cab, and I had no choice."

"I didn't pull anything," I reminded him. "But you shouldn't have waited so long; you weren't the only one suffering."

He nodded and stared at the floor. "I had no idea that when I bound myself to Gabriela, that I'd be condemning you to a life with me." He suddenly sounded angry, or perhaps, resentful. "You didn't even exist yet. But had I known, I would have made another choice."

He was lying again. I could feel it. "And if I hadn't been able to jar you lose from the cenote, what then?" I asked.

"I would have sent you to the Uchben. But I'm not sure they could have helped; they don't have our blood, and therefore can't open the portal. Second, they're not as strong as you or I, not even your precious Tommaso."

He was still jealous? Figured.

Then I began digesting what he said. He thought I was stronger than someone like Tommaso? I'd punched him as hard as I could in his stomach and all that did was double him over. On the other hand, I clocked Cimil and she flew-I mean she really, really flew across that room. Incredible, but it didn't make any sense.

"Honestly," he continued, "I was afraid what might happen if you came into contact with the Uchben. They might've thought you were a Maaskab spy if you just showed up claiming to be my spokesperson. They aren't the most trusting people; they're warriors."

"So? What would they have done?" I asked.

"They would have tortured you to find out the truth," he said flatly.

Torture? His backup plan was me getting tortured? Nice.

Midway down the hall, he abruptly stopped. I collided with his broad back. It was like a brick wall. "What? What's wrong?" I asked, expecting him to say the Scabs were back.

"I forgot something important."

He darted back into the room, reemerging moments later with that enormous, ancient cookbook. "Let's go."

Cookie baking gods?

"Pocket. Put in your 'can't deal with it now' pocket, Emma," I said.

Chapter TWENTY-THREE.

Guy was relieved to find Tommaso had removed the bodies from the stairs and placed sheets over the others lying about the house.

Emma was strong, after all she had the blood of the gods flowing in her veins. And to her credit, she'd taken the news of her heritage rather well. But ultimately she was still human. Bound to the physical world. Fragile. Mortal.

And more news was still coming-the gods were trapped and Emma was the only one who could free them. Guy had to pace himself, allow her time to process. Human minds were extremely hardy and adaptable if you didn't overload them. The poor female was close to the precipice.

So when the time comes, he wondered, how will she take the news?

Would she agree to help, or buckle under the pressure? He himself barely tolerated the situation. This coming from someone who'd seen it all over the course of tens of thousands of years: the rise and fall of dozens of empires, entire civilizations disappearing-some into the ocean-countless genocides and wars, the birth of gangster rap and reality television.

Yes. Terrible, awful things.

But nothing was as awful as one of his own helping the Maaskab and teaching them to manipulate dark energy, which was the only explanation. How else could the priests have learned? The power was known only to the gods and sparingly used. When fully employed, the energy didn't simply hover like an acid rain cloud; it rippled and circled the globe until it ran out of steam. The last time they'd employed it-ironically, when fighting the Maaskab-the ripples completed ten entire earthly laps. Plagues and famine broke out on every continent. Civil unrest was rampant for hundreds of years.

Guy and the other gods worked around the clock for decades simply to course correct-preventing humans from annihilation-but they were never able to undo the damage completely. That would've required traveling back in time, something they dared never do. Even primitive humans understood Newton's law of motion: for every action, there's an equal and opposite reaction. And this law particularly applied to altering past events. Move one piece, all of the other pieces must shift to accommodate. Chaos. The outcome, they'd determined, would be unstoppable chaos.

It made what the Maaskab were up to look like child's play; although it clearly was not. They'd developed honest-to-gods weapons: the jar that he'd experienced firsthand on Pizzaro's ship that could devour flesh. And adding an extra-clever diabolical twist-which he had to envy the deviousness of it-the priests had figured out how to modify the chemistry of the cenotes, creating an almost inescapable deity-prison. If the captured god were lucky enough to escape, as Guy had, well, the portals were now impassable. The gods were trapped in the human world, inside human-like bodies. Much less powerful.

Damned brilliant, evil bastards.

Gods, he wished he could return to his dimension. He'd produce a massive earthquake right now and open a fiery fissure in the Earth's crust directly beneath the Maaskab. He should have just done that in the first place long ago and lived with the civilian causalities. If he had, Gabriela might still be alive and he might not have the constant pang of emptiness in his chest.

But he wasn't going to undo the past, and he wasn't going anywhere, not until he released the others-well, until Emma released the others, since he couldn't go in that water-repaired the portals, and located Cimil.

Cimil, he thought. Is it truly she who turned on us?

He sincerely hoped he was wrong, but the evidence was mounting. She knew about the jars and never told anyone. She even hired Pizzaro to steal them. Yes, she must have been working with the Maaskab. Then they turned on her? Then she tried to cover her tracks?

The pieces weren't fitting. Why work with the Maaskab in the first place? Nothing could incite Cimil to make such a horrible act of treason. And if they'd turned on her, then why would she hire mortals like Pizzaro to kill the Maaskab instead of doing it herself? From Emma's account, Cimil had no issues fighting the dark priests. She'd even fled with several Uchben in pursuit-so, he guessed. She always did enjoy a good chase.

So what was that goddess up to? Guy's head pounded with frustration. Not a damned piece of the puzzle fit!

He glanced at Emma who was sitting behind him in the Hummer, staring out the window across the fields of vines. Tommaso was driving, and for once, Guy was pleased to let someone else be in control. He wasn't quite used to handling these machines yet, although he'd enjoyed the rush of going fast during the drive to the villa, even though he took out a few fences and one very innocent bush. But for the moment, Emma's safety was paramount.

He noticed her expression was solemn, as if she were playing with the same impossible puzzle in her mind. Her reddish-blond curls shimmered in the sunlight that poured through the open window at her side. Her hair was tied back with some kind of a tiny pink string, and she wore a plain gray sweatshirt and jeans. He couldn't help but bask in her beauty. So many years he'd wondered what she looked like, and now he wished he'd never laid eyes on her.

He also simultaneously thanked the heavens for gracing him with such a vision. Somehow, she'd be the death of him, he just knew it. She was just too desirable-just like Cimil had prophesied. She stole his heart, and his balls-because he'd do anything for her. Anything. Including let her go when the time came.

He shook the thought from his mind. "Emma. Do you know how the Maaskab and Cimil found you?" he asked, thinking she most likely snuck a call to her parents, allowing her location to be traced.

Tommaso lifted his eyes from the road to glance nervously at Emma in the mirror.

She didn't answer at first, instead fidgeting with her sleeve. "I don't know. Like I told you, Cimil didn't say anything-other than she'd been tracking the Scabs, and she realized they were in route to your villa."

Guy frowned. He wasn't in the mood for more renegade puzzle pieces. "Did she say where she'd come from or why she was following them?"

Emma shook her head then looked down at her palms. Again she was about to speak, but stopped. Guy had been observing human behavior for what seemed like an eternity, but it didn't take a deity to figure out she was hiding something.

He twisted his large body to face Emma directly. "You called your parents didn't you?" He'd used his command-voice on her, so he knew she'd have no choice but to tell him. No one could resist it.

"No. I didn't. But I'm not talking about this now." Her eyes darted to Tommaso.

What? She'd ignored his voice? How? And the blasted woman wanted to avoid disclosing something in front of Tommaso? She cared about what he thought?

She's mine. A spark of jealousy ignited. He hated that she was giving weight to this other man's opinion of her, and that she'd just seemingly ignored his command.

Well then, let him think less of her. Tommaso wasn't worthy of Emma, anyway. Frankly, no human man was.

"Emma," he shifted to his persuasion-voice; it might work better on her. "Tommaso is one of our most trusted guards. You can say anything in front of him. Besides, we don't have time for this. If you haven't noticed, we've got some serious problems to deal with such as missing and dead guards, and..." he paused. He was about to tell her about the other gods being trapped, but pulled back.

Don't give away too much too soon, he reminded himself. "And it would be helpful to understand how they tracked you."

"No." She folded her arms and glared with defiance.

Again, she'd resisted? She was growing stronger somehow.

He stared at her face, observing closely. She was becoming angry. She always hated when he used his voice to control her. It always sparked her spiteful, vengeful side. He suddenly felt uneasy.

"Fine. I've been having nightmares," Emma said, her voice infused with a subtle wickedness. Yeah, she was mad.

She went on to explain in detail how she'd dreamed of a man several times, not leaving out all of the possessive, seductive things he'd said to her. She explained how she never thought much about them. That is until this last time when he seemed so real and so violent. When she got to the last part, it looked as though she wanted to cry. The dream had truly frightened her, but Guy wasn't convinced it was anything other than her overactive, human imagination at work.

"The dreams aren't real," he declared dismissively.

"But you got inside my head and talked to me. You even woke me up from a coma. So why couldn't someone else talk to me in my sleep? It would explain how the Maaskab found me. The man in my dream could see where I was and said he was sending people-scary people-for me. He said not to run."

"Not real," he repeated.

"Well, why the hell not?"

Guy scratched his rough face.

"Well?" she prodded.

"It's not possible that the man in your dream is a real god because the others are...well..." Then he stopped himself. How much did he really want Emma to know about the gods being trapped? Or, that he'd need her to return to Mexico and help free them. She'd already been through so much, and he didn't want to push her over the edge.

"Here we go again! What is it with you? Are you ever going to trust me?" Emma threw up her hands.

Guy snapped. "Everything I say comes under your scrutiny. Nothing's ever right! I don't say enough. I talk too much. I keep too many secrets. I butt-in when I shouldn't. Which is it, woman? Am I supposed to be quiet, or speak? Do I sugarcoat, or be honest? I'm simply trying to protect you, but you don't have enough common sense to see it! You're making my head spin."

Tommaso chuckled, keeping his eyes on the road.

"What are you laughing at?" Emma squawked. "You have no idea how frustrating it's been living with him."

"You two sound like an old married couple," Tommaso said.

Emma's brow creased. "I'd rather marry a Scab. At least the suffering would end quickly."

Tommaso roared for all of four seconds until Guy cleared his throat as a warning.

"Sorry. It's just...she is kind of funny," Tommaso said.

"Thank you." Emma bowed her head and gave Tommaso a wink. "At least you get me. He, on the other hand"-she flashed her eyes at Guy-"won't even answered a simple question."

Guy did not like the friendship growing between Emma and Tommaso one bit. He liked even less that he now felt he had to compete for her trust. Gods dammit. "The dream can't be real because the buzzing voices you hear in your head belong to the rest of the gods who're currently enjoying a watery vacation inside those damned cenotes. So, even if one could seep through that thick skull of yours, they'd have no way to communicate to the Maaskab and provide your location."

She was silent for a minute, apparently thinking it over, but unfazed. "Okay. You're right there...but, wait. Didn't you say there are fourteen of you? I only hear eleven voices."

"Eleven? You never said eleven." Guy felt his heart accelerate.

"Yes! Yes I did. You just never listen to me. I said it at least half a dozen times."

"No, little girl. I think I'd remember something so important." Of course he would. He was nearly perfect.

"Little girl? Well, I guess compared to an old, crusty deity-"

"Please, would you two stop?" Tommaso interrupted. "I think I'm going to marry a Maaskab."

"Emma, are you certain it's eleven?" Guy asked.

"Oh my God...yes!" She slammed her fists into the black leather seat to her sides.

"Then that means someone else is on the loose, it's not just Cimil and I who roam free."

"You're a mathematical genius," Emma mumbled.

"Keep it up, Emma. I've always wanted to spank you. Or, I could put you to sleep again. Would you like that?"

"If you lay a finger on me, I'll-"

"This, I'd like to hear," Tommaso said.

Emma snapped her mouth shut and glared out the window, crinkling her lips into an angry little circle. She looked adorable when she was cranky.

"Not that this would validate your theory, but what did he look like?" Guy asked.

Emma took a long moment. Then another.

"Well? We're waiting, Princess Know-It-All," Guy said.

A wicked little smile suddenly made camp on her face. It brought a foldout chair, made a fire, and started roasting marshmallows. Guy suddenly felt uneasy.

"I said, he looked almost exactly like you, but..."

"Taller?" Not that any of the gods were taller than him, he thought.

"Not exactly, no." Emma's mean little smile grew bigger.

"Nicer hair?" They might have longer hair, so that was okay. But certainly none had anything as stunning as his blue-black mane of thick waves.

"His hair was a little dull-like yours. And kind of black and wavy."

Dull? She must have hit her head.

"Better looking?" he asked. Because, such a thing was not possible. He knew he was sinfully handsome.

Emma hesitated for a fraction of a second. "He was definitely worth looking at."