Project Pandora

by Aden Polydoros

  “I mean it. You’re a lifesaver.”

  “If you really want to thank me, how about letting me take you on a date?”

  Shannon found herself at a loss for words, certain she had heard him wrong.

  “Hello?” Tyler said.

  “I’m still here,” she said, clearing her throat. “It sounds great.”

  “Good. How does tomorrow around eleven sound?”

  She glanced at her laptop, where a few measly paragraphs of The Canterbury Tales confronted her. “I’m free then.”

  “Great. You know where Reggie’s is, over in Adams Morgan?”

  “Oh, yeah, it’s that burger place on 18th Street, right?” she asked, rising to her feet. She walked over to the wire cage on her dresser and poked a finger through the bars, trying to coax out her pet rat, Snowflake, from his cardboard tube. He scurried forward and seized her finger in his tiny paws.

  “Yeah, well, there’s a really good Mexican restaurant right across from Reggie’s,” Tyler said. “You know the one I’m talking about?”

  “Yeah, I’ve been there before,” she said, petting the rat’s head. “They have great enchiladas.”

  “Cool. I’ll see you there.”

  ...

  Saturday morning, Shannon took the metro to Woodley Park Station. The subway train was packed to capacity, and she found herself wedged uncomfortably between a woman screaming expletives into her cell phone and a bearded, disheveled man who reeked of urine and booze.

  As she tried to put some distance between herself and the unsavory pair, a young commuter made eye contact with her. At once, she was struck by the intensity of his blue eyes—and the sense of déjà vu she experienced as he smiled at her.

  “You can have my seat if you’d like,” the teen said, standing. He was beautiful but very pale, as if he spent most of his time in the dark. He had his cell phone out, though he did not appear to be using it.

  “Thanks,” Shannon said and took the boy up on his offer.

  “You’re welcome.” He grasped hold of the pole next to her. “It’s funny seeing you here.”

  “What?” she asked, glancing at him again.

  His face suddenly unsettled her. There was something cold and feral about his features, a cruelness of sorts that made him seem remote. Untouchable. So unlike Tyler.

  Her smile faded by a degree, while his smile only widened.

  “Did you see my work on the TV?” The dark-haired boy leaned closer, asserting himself into her personal space. He smelled faintly of burning mesquite, or something else scorched and fire-devoured. “See, Artemis? I told you I could hit a target from five hundred meters away.”

  He almost sounded like he was gloating about an accomplishment of his, although she couldn’t figure out what the hell he was talking about.

  “I think you’re mistaking me for someone else,” Shannon said, already regretting her decision to place herself in such a position of vulnerability.

  “Oh, I thought you were yourself now.” The boy stepped back to give her some room. “It’s Shannon, right?”

  “Uh, yeah…and you are?” She didn’t recognize him from school. How did he know her name?

  “Hades,” he said, like he expected her to know who he was.

  Hades, as in the Greek god. Considering how he had just called her Artemis, she highly doubted that Hades was his real name.

  “I’m sorry, but have we met before?” she asked, feeling her heart thrum nervously.

  “You know, I really hate how everybody always forgets me. You, him—it’s like I’m not real. It makes me feel like I don’t even exist.” For a moment, his expression seemed chilly, angered. Then he smiled, and somehow that was worse. It was a predatory expression, without warmth or kindness. “I don’t think Elizabeth will ever forget me, though. We’re going on a date today. I’ve been wondering, do you think she’ll like flowers?”

  “Uh…”

  “You’re a girl,” Hades said. “You should know. If you were going on a date, would you want flowers? Isn’t that how people usually show their affection?”

  “I guess?” she said, counting down the seconds until this metro ride from hell would end. She wasn’t a flowers and chocolates kind of girl, but neither was she ready to get into a discussion about dating with this weirdo.

  The train lurched to a stop at Woodley Park Station, and she rose to her feet.

  “My stop,” she said, then regretted saying it.

  Hades blinked. “Oh. It’s mine, too.”

  Her unease heightened into a powerful foreboding. Without saying another word, she shouldered past the black-haired boy and made a beeline for the door. She followed the flood of commuters onto the concrete platform, into the clammy atmosphere of the massive subterranean room. The ceiling curved overhead like a rib cage, leaving her feeling consumed and digested.

  She walked at a swift, determined gait, refusing to allow her paranoia to spur her into a panic. Besides, if Hades was stalking her, showing fear would only excite him.

  When she reached the escalators leading to the upper subterranean level of the station, she casually glanced over her shoulder. He was nowhere in sight. Maybe he had lied about getting off at this stop.

  Nearing the exit, she retrieved her fare card from her purse, gripping it so tightly that the plastic edge bit into her palm. Even after stepping through the turnstile, she still felt trapped and hunted, hyperaware of the packed earth above her head. It was almost like being buried alive.

  As she took an escalator up to street level, she checked her phone to see if Tyler had texted her. Nothing yet.

  “Shannon!” someone called as she emerged into the sunlight.

  She flinched at the sound of her name, only to spot Tyler standing just outside the glass-and-metal canopy that sheltered the metro entrance. With a sigh of relief, she stepped off the escalator and hurried over to him.

  “I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you,” she said once she reached his side.

  “It’s mutual.” He grinned, exposing those adorable dimples of his. Compared to Hades, he was all warmth, both in his bronzed complexion and the kindness of his expression. Even his cologne’s citrusy aroma had a far more welcoming effect on her, soothing rather than unsettling her.

  “Hey, can you tell me if some guy’s following me?” she asked, lowering her voice. “He’s around our age. Black hair, blue eyes. Dressed all in black.”

  Tyler’s smile faded, and he looked past her. “You mean the guy who looks like he’s never heard of a comb? The one in the leather jacket?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He’s smiling at us.” Tyler’s hands tightened into fists, and his clenched jaw cut hard lines in his face. “Did he do anything to you?”

  “No, he was just talking weird on the subway,” Shannon muttered. “About flowers and dating and stuff.”

  His face paled with anger. “Was he sexually harassing you?”

  “No. I don’t know.” She shook her head. “It’s probably nothing.”

  “He’s coming over here,” Tyler said, and his dark, gold-flecked eyes narrowed dangerously. He placed a hand on her wrist. “Let me deal with this.”

  She turned to find Hades approaching them. In spite of the boy’s calm gait, every movement of his seemed intentional, almost trained. No unnecessary energy was exerted, and his right arm lingered at his side, steady.

  To reduce the time it takes to reach his gun, she thought, surprising herself. Of all the theories she could come up with, why would she assume that?

  “Hello again,” Hades said warmly, looking from Tyler to her. “Why are you two together? This can’t be a coincidence. Is this a test or something? Are you doing a job?”

  Every time his incandescent blue eyes fell on her, her gut squirmed in discomfort. She was almost certain now that she had talked to him before, but she couldn’t remember where.

  “I heard you were harassing my friend here,” Tyler growled, stepping forward. “Are you stalking
her?”

  Hades chuckled. “You know, you’re the second person this week who’s accused me of being a stalker.”

  “Shocking,” he said drily.

  “I guess this means you’re Tyler Bennett now.”

  A hint of confusion showed through Tyler’s scowl. “How do you know my name?”

  Hades grinned, visibly amused. “Who ever said that’s your name, Apollo?”

  The air thickened with tension. At six feet tall, Tyler had a couple inches on the other boy, but what Hades lacked in height, he made up for in muscularity. Shannon also sensed that while Tyler would probably fight fair, Hades would attack with the brutality of a wild animal, biting and gouging if it meant gaining an upper hand.

  “Look, you need to go or there’s going to be trouble,” Tyler said.

  “Everyone always goes, and I always stay. But this is nice. We’re all together again. It’s like how it was before.” Though Hades’s smile remained bright and ever present, a note of profound loneliness wove its way through the low, rolling timbre of his voice. By his next sentence, it was gone. “I wish we could talk longer, but I have a date soon and I need to find a flower shop. Maybe we can talk later. I’d like to go hunting with you two again.”

  Before either of them could respond, Hades walked past them. He crossed the street and passed under the shade of a tree planted along the sidewalk, dead leaves crunching beneath his boots. Within seconds, he had disappeared into the crowd.

  “Did he call you Apollo?” she asked, turning to Tyler.

  “What was that about?” he wondered.

  “The hell if I know.” She crossed her arms.

  “Does he go to our school?”

  “I guess.”

  Tyler sighed and ran a hand through his thick blond hair. A smile touched his lips as he looked down at her. “Anyway, are you still game for Mexican or do you feel like going somewhere else?”

  “You kidding?” She grinned. “I’d kill for some enchiladas right now.”

  As they walked down Calvert Street in the direction of the Mexican restaurant, she allowed her gaze to wander over storefront windows. The area featured an impressive hodgepodge of foreign cuisines to choose from, and signs advertised everything from French pastries to Greek gyros to Korean barbecue. Scattered among the restaurants were other small businesses, but none held much interest to her.

  “How long have you been friends with Alan?” she asked, glancing at Tyler. He walked with his hands shoved in his pockets and his shoulders thrust forward, as if ready to confront the world.

  “Just a couple months,” he said. “I transferred schools back in August. I know he’s not the greatest guy.”

  “He’s totally obnoxious.” She rolled her eyes and began mimicking Alan’s stoner drawl: “Hey, how’s it going, bruh? You wanna smoke some dank weed, bro-ski?”

  He chuckled. “That’s impressive. You sound just like him.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Anyway, I didn’t know anyone when I came here, so our friendship kind of just happened. Now I can’t get rid of him.”

  “Where did you go to school before—” Before Shannon could finish her question, she bumped into another young woman. Shannon’s purse fell to the sidewalk and burst open, barfing out cosmetics, change, and an assortment of other items.

  “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” the blond girl said, bending down to clean up the spill.

  “It’s okay. I should’ve been paying more attention.” As Shannon snagged a handful of loose dollar bills before they could fly away, Tyler and the girl helped gather the other objects. She winced in embarrassment when he handed her a couple of tampons. Great way to start a first date.

  “Oh, no,” the blonde said, picking up a crushed eye shadow palette. Silvery dust spread across her fingers. “It’s broken.”

  “It’s fine,” she said, though it peeved her a bit to think about how much that particular eye shadow had cost her. Oh well, at least she had gotten some use out of it first.

  The girl reached into her Prada purse and pulled out a designer wallet. She took out a twenty dollar bill and held it out to her. “Will this cover it?”

  Shannon faced a brief moral dilemma as she considered whether to take the girl’s money and risk Tyler thinking she was greedy or turn down twenty dollars. Finally, she reached out and accepted the bill. “Thanks.”

  “It’s the least I can do,” the blond girl said, then frowned. She cocked her head to the right. “Hey, you look kind of familiar. You don’t happen to go to Manderley Prep, do you?”

  Ugh, just the name sent a shiver down her spine. She knew all about Manderley Prep. It was some kind of super-exclusive private academy in Northern Virginia whose annual tuition cost as much as a new Porsche. The Manderley kids were recognizable not only by their red plaid skirts and white button-ups, but also the stuck-up expressions perpetually trapped on their perfect rich-kid faces.

  “No, I don’t go to Manderley,” Shannon said, now tempted to hustle the girl for more money.

  “Oh, I see. Well, again, I’m very sorry. I hope you have a wonderful day.” The girl smiled then continued down the street.

  “Shannon?” Tyler murmured, drawing her attention back to him.

  She looked over at him. “Yeah?”

  In one hand, he held her smartphone. In the other, a plain black flip phone.

  “Why do you have two cell phones?”

  Case Notes 9:

  Hades

  Hades stared at the assortment of bouquets lining the flower shop’s shelves, thinking about deadly poisons. The lily of the valley, with its tiny bell-shaped blossoms, was toxic when consumed, along with its more colorful relative, the gloriosa lily. Azaleas, too.

  Poisons made him think of killing, and killing drew his attention back to Artemis and Apollo. Why did they get to spend time with each other?

  “May I help you?” a voice asked.

  He turned.

  The florist looked up at him from behind rimless glasses. She was so short she barely reached to his pecs. She had a kind face and hair as white and wispy as milkweed fluff.

  “I need flowers for a date,” he said.

  The florist smiled at him. “I had a feeling. You had that dreamy look about you. What do you have in mind?”

  “Nothing yet, ma’am.”

  “Roses are always nice,” she said and led him to the middle of the store. The rose bouquets featured a vast variety of colors, with blossoms ranging from the purest white to the deepest burgundy.

  He scanned the selection without appreciating it, wondering why he was even here in the first place. He was putting unnecessary effort into this, when it would mean nothing in the end. There were no happy endings, so why couldn’t he stop thinking about Elizabeth Hawthorne? Why couldn’t he get her out of his mind?

  He should be focusing on his evolution. It was the only thing that was real in this world.

  As the florist spoke about the various roses, Hades became distracted by a flash of blue on the counter at the back of the store.

  He walked over to the counter, where dissected flowers were waiting to be made into bouquets. He picked up the vase of small blue blossoms, lifted it to his face, and inhaled. Soft buds brushed against his nose and lips.

  The faint aroma dredged an image from the grave of his memory. As he closed his eyes, he saw a field of wildflowers like these, bordered on one side by a tall iron fence topped with coils of razor wire. They had their first kiss there under the cover of dusk, when the flowers’ fragrance was at its peak.

  A sense of peace drifted over him.

  Then a hand fell on his arm, and the memory dissipated like smoke, taking his tranquility with it. Opening his eyes, he couldn’t remember who he had been thinking about.

  “Those are forget-me-nots,” the florist said, “but I’m afraid they’re not for sale, dear.”

  “I need them,” he heard himself say.

  “I’m sorry, but—”

  “They were
Nine’s favorite.” He didn’t know what he meant by that.

  “They’re for mixed wedding bouquets.”

  Anger flared in him, riding on the disorientation that threatened to engulf him. He suddenly felt threatened by the petite woman who conspired to prevent him from getting what he needed.

  Resisting the impulse to simply take the entire vase, Hades reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He had to put down the bouquet to open the billfold. As he searched for cash, his driver’s licenses fell to the ground.

  He bent down to collect them. Five different names confronted him, but the faces were all the same. None of the names were his. Agitated, he scooped up the cards and shoved them back into the leather pocket. Found a ten dollar bill. Thrust it into her hand.

  “I need this, ma’am,” Hades said.

  The florist stared at him with a strange expression.

  “I need this,” he repeated tersely.

  “Your back,” she said, and he realized that when he had leaned over, his shirt and jacket had slid up.

  Not only had the healing cigarette burn been revealed to her, but she had also seen his mark.

  Hades licked his lips, fighting with his agitation. A rabid part of him wanted to make sure the old florist could never tell anyone about what she had just seen, while his other half found the idea of wanton violence unnecessary and contrary to his training.

  There were no clear borders between his old self and what he was evolving into. Some days, he felt like a beast and a man sutured together, each one fighting for dominion over the other. Although scar tissue grew along the divide, in the end, flesh was flesh. He could never escape from himself.

  Exhaling slowly, Hades put his wallet back into his pocket. “Ma’am, can you wrap these, please? They have to look nice for her.”

  The wrinkles in her face deepened, and her eyes clouded over with a queasy look. She placed his money on the counter, took the forget-me-nots from the vase, and wrapped them in a cone of shiny silver paper. She sealed the paper with a strip of tape, which she concealed beneath a blue ribbon.

  “That will be eight dollars,” she mumbled, drifting to the register. She gave him his change with the bouquet. As soon as her hands were free, her fingers drifted restlessly, going to her green apron then to the crucifix around her throat.