“It doesn’t work that way. The box is already locked. Only a descendant of Pandora can unlock it. If any of us tried, the key wouldn’t work.”
“Then someone will just have to break it open if they want whatever’s inside so badly.”
“It can’t be cut, burned, crushed, or sliced open with a laser—nothing can open the box but the key and you.”
“Bull.”
Melia met Evangeline’s angry gaze. “I’m not lying to you, I swear. You wear the key, but the truth is that you are the key. Whatever happens to the Fury is totally up to you. And you’re in danger because of it.”
Evangeline had had enough. She picked up the lamp on the bedside table, yanked out the cord, and wielded the brass base like a weapon. “Let me out of this room!”
“You’re going to hit me with that? Really? Don’t be insane!”
Evangeline took a step forward. Her best friend didn’t back up.
“Screw you, Evangeline! I’ve been dealing with this bull my whole life. You have no idea! It’s time for you to shoulder at least some of the load!”
Evangeline took another step forward.
Melia snorted. “I’m a black-belt, don’t forget.”
That was true. Evangeline had always wondered why someone as girly as Melia cared about karate lessons. Melia used to say that it gave her a great ass. I bought that lie, too.
“Don’t make me take that lamp away, because I’ll do it,” Melia said. “I’ll do anything to protect the key, box, and you. That’s what I’m trained to do. And even if you get past me, which is highly unlikely, there are a bunch more women outside that door and they’re tougher than you could ever imagine.”
“I hate you!” Evangeline said, dropping the lamp to the floor.
“Great!” Melia snapped. “That’s just great! I’ve spent my entire life trying to protect you and Olivia.”
“Don’t you dare say my mother’s name like you care! Your cult tried to kill her.”
Melia rolled her eyes. “Look, E, you’re not going anywhere right now so why not shut up for a few minutes?”
Evangeline backed into the far wall, arms crossed. Melia was right, for the moment there was no escape. “Go ahead,” she said. But I can guarantee I won’t believe a word you say.
Melia sat down on the edge of the bed. “Pandora is the cult you’re talking about. Despite the Gods’ protests, the Goddess Hera started our Sect to create a group of women devoted to helping Pandora and her descendants protect the box and keep the final Fury inside.”
“That makes no sense,” Evangeline scoffed. “Why would Hera do that if the Gods wanted the fury released?”
“Probably because if the fifth Fury was liberated, the drama of Pandora and the box might end. The Gods were enjoying the show. And they like a show that can go on as long as possible, I assure you.”
Evangeline knocked the back of her head against the wall, hard. Nope, not dreaming. “I’m not a descendant of Pandora.”
Fixing her with a determined look, Melia pressed on. “I don’t know when the descendants of Pandora lost the thread of their own story. But now Pandora chooses to keep them in the dark about their ancestry, their role, and the curse.”
“Probably because if someone knew what you wing-nuts were up to they’d have you arrested or committed!”
“Or because,” Melia shot back, “we can’t risk what a descendant would do if she learned about the curse. The bottom line is that we alone protect descendants from anyone who wants to hurt them or possess the artifacts—the box and the key.”
Evangeline pressed palms against her temples. “Melia, you need serious mental intervention. You’ve been brainwashed to believe in a fantasy based on some mythology about people and Gods who never existed. There are probably specialists who can fix you with the help of powerful anti-psychotic drugs.”
“Look, E, whatever. Face it, you’ve got it great. You’ve all got beauty and mad skills like singing, painting, dancing. And there’s a whole devoted group of women who pull every string to make certain that your life stays blessed with whatever you desire.”
“You mean my abbreviated life. Don’t forget, descendants are supposed to die in their prime.”
Melia frowned. “I haven’t forgotten, but there are people who would gladly trade their ugly, boring lives for the life you, Olivia, Cleo, Penelope, Anna, Helen, and all those who came before them got to live.”
“Right. And seeing as I have nothing to do with all of this, what if I want a boring life?”
Melia met Evangeline’s challenging gaze. “Too bad.”
“Says you.”
“Stop being such a selfish brat—this is bigger than you, whether you believe it or not! Evangeline, the fifth Fury is Annihilation. That means total obliteration with no trace, no signature, and no one to blame. If whoever possesses the fifth Fury can harness its power, they will get away with murder and never be caught. They can blame any person or country or fanatic religion for their actions and there’ll never be a way to prove differently. Annihilation, Evangeline. Poof—a whole population or an entire country gone.”
Melia’s eyes had taken on a fanatic gleam and her cheeks were flushed. How can you argue with someone who’s been brainwashed her entire life? You can’t. “How long is your cult going to keep me locked up?”
“Sect. I don’t know.”
They’re not planning to let me go, Evangeline suddenly realized. How can they? I know too much about them now.
Melia approached swiftly and wrapped her arms around Evangeline before she could stop her.
“They’re listening,” Melia whispered. “Look, just relax. I’ll come back tonight—we’ll get out of here together, OK?”
She let go and backed toward the door. “Eat the food, E, it’s not drugged. They wouldn’t risk hurting you.”
Melia stepped out of the room and shut the door behind her. The bolts thudded back into place.
Chapter Twenty-six
Juliette turned off the blaring radio that Malledy had tuned to his favorite rap station and drove back to the townhouse in silence. She’d done all that she could; said all that she could think of; promised, pledged, and only stopped short of begging because she didn’t want the leader of Pandora to see her desperation. Desperation would signal that Juliette was capable of anything, even betrayal.
It was raining again, as it seemed to always do in the Godforsaken city of Portland. Juliette focused on the road—she hadn’t been behind the wheel of a car for many years and driving didn’t come naturally. It was just one of the many things she’d given up when she’d become an Archivist. The others included marriage, a family, and most, if not all, of her morals. Not that she’d clung to many principles as a member of Pandora, either. Both Sects believed that the end justified the means, although Pandora clung to somewhat higher ground as to the reasons why they would deceive and murder to achieve their goals.
Juliette’s cell phone rang and she dug into her purse while keeping her eyes on the highway. “Allo?”
“I’m sorry,” Pandora’s leader said, “but the answer is no.”
“To Malledy meeting with you?” Juliette marveled at how calm her voice sounded despite her racing pulse.
“To everything. We simply can’t risk it.”
Juliette swallowed, hearing the dry click of her throat. “I understand.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. Pandora is forever. Everything else can be sacrificed—even Malledy’s life. I understand.”
There was a pause and then the leader spoke again. “We’re gathering.”
“I’ll be there.” Juliette hung up and signaled to exit the highway. She swung off and turned to get on the highway going back the way she’d come.
Chapter Twenty-seven
The greenhouse was bathed in an orange glow. The thirty-one robed women of Pandora stood in a circle chanting in ancient Greek.
“Let’s begin,” the leader said, holding up her hand.
“Planning to send me to detention?” Melia asked. “Too bad. I’m your equal here.”
“Why did you do it, Melia?” Samantha asked, her cat-like eyes narrowed.
“You drugged Evangeline and locked her up! She’s freaking out. She has the right to know what’s going on.”
“You act like you weren’t a part of our decision,” Melodie said. “You’re the one who warned us that she’d left the hospital.”
“Did I say to hunt her down, chloroform her, kidnap her, and lock her up?” Melia shouted.
Samantha held up a hand again. “Giving Evangeline the book was a decision that should’ve been made by all of us, Melia.”
The women shifted uneasily. The book was a sacred chronicle of Zeus’ Curse and contained the history of every descendant. No individual outside the Sect or any descendant of Pandora had ever seen, let alone read, the book. The knowledge it contained was dangerous for a multitude of reasons, including the risk that someone might seek the box and key for their own gain or a descendant might try to break from her destiny in defiance or fear.
“Evangeline wasn’t ready to learn about the curse,” Lacie said. Evangeline would’ve been astounded to see Goth girl right now. She wasn’t wearing her usual white makeup and black eyeliner—she had pretty gray eyes and olive-toned skin.
“You think there’s some way to backtrack from the road we’ve gone down?” Melia snapped at her classmate.
Belinda O’Neill, a brunette bombshell and Melia’s step-mother, put a restraining hand on Melia’s shoulder.
“Don’t start acting like a mother now,” Melia said, shaking free. “I helped you seduce my dad so that I’d be raised by a member of Pandora after my mother’s death, but that doesn’t mean I like you.”
“Enough!” Samantha said. “Regardless of your perception about the road we’ve gone down, Melia, you should’ve let the Sect decide the most prudent course of action.”
“And waited? Sam, she’s freaking scared out of her mind!” Melia stepped out of the circle to take in the entire Sect, looking from one powerful woman to the next. “Olivia is dying. Evangeline saw Sam—the only other adult she trusted and loved—trying to suffocate her mom. And she thinks I’ve been lying to her for her whole life.”
“You have,” Melodie pointed out. Melia returned to her place in the circle of women.
“Alors! We are all missing the forest for the trees,” Juliette said. “Evangeline must remain locked safely away, at least for a time. But more importantly, we must make sure the box isn’t close enough for her to obtain.”
Samantha fixed a laser gaze on Juliette. “Why?”
“She’s an angry teenager. There’s no telling what she’d do if she had the box. At the very least she could use it to manipulate us.”
“Juliette’s right,” Belinda said.
“Is the box close by?” Juliette asked.
“It’s safe.” Samantha turned to face Melia. “We’re going to depend on you to help Evangeline through this.”
“No.”
There was a collective intake of breath. “Excuse me?” Samantha said.
“I said, no,” Melia replied. The silence in the greenhouse was deafening.
“You can make the difference between Evangeline being miserable or accepting the boundaries of her new life. Why would you decline?”
“How can I help my best friend believe everything I’ve told her when I’m not sure I believe all of it?”
The women began to speak at once, voices raised in anger and protest.
Melia continued. “I was born into all this. No one asked me if I wanted to be a member of Pandora.”
“It’s an honor,” Melodie said.
“Right. I’m expected to die a member of Pandora and that’ll probably happen protecting Evangeline and the artifacts. But I’ve never even seen the box. I honestly don’t know if it exists. So I can’t help you because I won’t lie to Evangeline anymore. I won’t do it.”
“Only a handful of our Sect knows the location of the box,” Belinda said. “That’s for your own safety. Melia, the more you know, the more dangerous it is for both you and the descendant.”
“You need me,” Melia said to Samantha. “And I need to know that what I’m about to do to my best friend is the right thing.”
“So, are you telling us you didn’t believe in Pandora when you took your vows?” Samantha grasped Melia’s hand, turning it over to expose the pink lines in the shape of a P recently carved into her skin.
Melia pulled her hand away. “I guess not.”
“Step forward if any of you feel the way Melia does,” Samantha commanded. A handful of the younger initiates looked uncertain but only one other member of Pandora stepped forward—Juliette. Samantha’s eyes betrayed her surprise.
“I need to know beyond all doubt that Malledy’s death is justified,” Juliette said to the leader. “Please.” She locked eyes with Samantha. “Forgive my weakness.”
“Very well.” Samantha said. “Come with me, both of you.”
“You can’t be serious,” Melodie scoffed, her eyes wide with disbelief.
“If Melia and Juliette weren’t such valuable members of Pandora I would choose a different course,” Samantha explained. “But the truth is that we need them.” She turned and led the way out of the greenhouse without looking back. The three women entered the cedar-shingled house through the back door, crossed the hallway, and climbed a curved, wooden staircase to the second floor, passing the room where Evangeline was imprisoned.
At the end of the hallway was a sewing room jammed floor to ceiling with bolts of cloth, spools of thread, and stacks of brightly colored patches meant to be sewn together to fashion quilts. Once Juliette and Melia were inside, Samantha shut the door behind them.
“Are you certain that this is what you want?” Samantha asked. “Because the knowing is a burden that is at times almost beyond bearing.”
“Yes,” Melia and Juliette replied in unison.
Chapter Twenty-eight
It was raining so hard, the windshield wipers made little difference and only the yellow lines on the road gave any guidance. Dr. Sullivan glanced at the dashboard—it was 12:37 AM.
“How did this happen,” he asked softly.
A neon-red glow indicated an all-night liquor store a block ahead. Dr. Sullivan signaled and slowed, then parked in front of the store. “It happened because I just want to forget.” He got out.
Running through the downpour, Dr. Sullivan passed a hunched-over kid in a soaking wet sweatshirt and jeans walking in the opposite direction. He did a double-take.
“Hey, kid, what’re you doing out here?”
Raphe turned, his face wet, pinched, uncertain.
“I saw you at the hospital. You’re a friend of Evangeline. I’m Ms. Theopolis’ doctor—Tim Sullivan?”
“Oh, yeah, I remember.” Raphe shivered. “My car broke down a few miles back. I’m trying to find an open gas station or a mechanic or something.”
“Have you called your parents? They’re probably worried sick.”
Raphe shook his head. “My mom’s out of town.”
Dr. Sullivan glanced over his shoulder at the liquor store, hesitating. “I can give you a ride home,” he finally said. “What’s your name?”
“Raphe. Thanks, that would be great—I’m freezing.”
They climbed back into the Volvo and Dr. Sullivan turned up the heater. “Where to?”
Raphe looked down at his palms. “78 Prentiss Street—it’s near Forest Park.”
Dr. Sullivan reached beneath the seat for his thermos. Resting it between his knees, he unscrewed the top and took a swallow, tried for a second one, and came up empty.
“My dad had a thermos just like that one,” Raphe said. “He kept vodka in his cause he figured my mom wouldn’t be able to smell it on his breath. She kicked him out. Crazy hunh
?”
“Ah…Not that it’s your business, but this is water.”
“Yeah, whatever. Look, Evangeline told me what happened to your family, doc, and I’m really sorry. I just figured—” Raphe shrugged. “Anyway, I’m sorry—about it all.”
Dr. Sullivan pulled away from the curb and tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
“Raphe, do you know where Evangeline is? I was supposed to drop her off at the police station this morning after she visited her mom, but I couldn’t find her.”
“Are the police looking for her?” Raphe asked.
“Detective Morrison hasn’t put out an Amber Alert or anything, but, yes, they’re looking. She’s not in trouble. We just need to make sure she’s safe. You understand that, right?”
Raphe drummed his fingers on the dash—fast, repetitive. “Yeah, I understand. Sammy—um, I mean Samantha—and the rest of them are still out there.”
“Do you know where Evangeline is?”
Raphe peered through the rivulets of rain cascading down the windshield, brow wrinkled. “I saw them take her,” he said, his voice nearly a whisper.
“What the hell?” Dr. Sullivan glanced over at Raphe. “What are you talking about?”
“Me and Evangeline, we found Samantha’s apartment in a condemned building. There were all kinds of weird things in there—portraits of women who I think were all Evangeline’s ancestors—and photographs. Evangeline freaked and ran away—”
“But, why?”
Raphe shrugged. “By the time I caught up to her they were carrying her down the stairs.”
“They, who?” Dr. Sullivan demanded.
“I’m not exactly sure, but I know she was unconscious.”
Dr. Sullivan shook his head to clear it. “Why didn’t you stop them?”
“There were too many.”
“Why didn’t you call the police?”
Raphe looked down at his fingernails—they were bitten to the quick. “Because.”
“I’m running out of patience. Because why?”
Raphe turned in his seat to look at the doctor. “Because one of them was my mother.”
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