Pandora's Key

by Nancy Richardson Fischer

  Frozen icicles tickled Malledy’s chest and then suddenly drove inside his heart like white-hot daggers. WHAT IS GOING ON? Malledy couldn’t move to push away Evangeline’s hands. He felt his racing heartbeat slow to a rhythmic thud, then miss a beat…and then another. All he could do was listen in horror to the wordless tune Evangeline hummed and silently scream as his heartbeat stuttered, skipped, and finally disappeared.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Evangeline pulled herself out of the frigid water, gasping for air, drawing a lungful through her ravaged throat. Malledy lay on the creek bank, his legs sprawled over hers, his torso and face in the dirt. He wasn’t moving and it didn’t look like he was breathing, either. What just happened? One second he’d been drowning her, even though he claimed he needed her. To heal him? The next second, the boy she had known as Tristin was dead and she was alive.

  A sound caught her attention. Melia was still alive, struggling to breathe. Pushing Malledy’s legs off hers, Evangeline struggled to her knees and crawled over to Melia. Her friend’s sweater had turned black with blood and Evangeline could see where even more blood had seeped into the dirt. The air smelled like hot, copper and she gagged.

  “Tristin?” Melia whispered. A rivulet of bright-red blood dribbled from the corner of her mouth and ran down her cheek.

  Evangeline’s wet hair rained down on Melia’s chalk-white face. “I don’t know what happened—he was trying to drown me and I passed out. When I woke up—” Evangeline faltered. “Melia, I’m sorry—he’s dead.” But I’m not sorry, am I? He tried to kill me, so I—

  No! I’ve never even hit a person in my life. How could I just have killed someone?

  Reaching up with bloody fingers, Melia touched a bruise already turning purple on Evangeline’s cheek. “So…sorry—didn’t know…” And then she began coughing uncontrollably, bloody froth coating her mouth. “You’ve got to…get out of…here.”

  “I need to get you to a hospital.”

  Melia shook her head.

  “Melia, there’s a lot of blood, okay? A lot. You need a doctor.” Please don’t die on me! You’re not who I thought you were, and you chose your boyfriend over me, at least for a while, but somehow I still love you. “Life is less black and white than I thought,” Evangeline said softly.

  Tears streaming, Melia met Evangeline’s eyes and a look of complete understanding passed between them: I was never a kid and you can no longer be one either. Melia nodded slightly and coughed so hard, it was agony to watch.

  “Get his—gun,” Melia gasped.

  “What? I don’t know how to use a gun!”

  “Get—it!” Melia said forcefully. “Hide…it in case…Now!”

  Evangeline limped over to the revolver lying beside Malledy’s body. She picked it up and tied it to the front string of her pajama bottoms, tucking it inside the band and pulling her oversized flannel top over it. “I think I can carry you,” she said, returning to Melia’s side.

  “To use…gun…flip off…safety on top…point and pull…trigger…easy-peasy,” Melia said, her bloodstained lips forming a ghastly smile.

  “This. Is. Really. Happening.” Evangeline forced herself to accept her new reality because hiding from it might get her recaptured…or worse.

  Melia’s body was wracked with coughing. Evangeline scrambled for a way to help her friend.

  “Melia, you said I had the power to heal Tristin—er, Malledy. Tell me how! Tell me and I’ll heal you. Tell me!” Evangeline pulled Melia close. “Tell me!”

  “I don’t…know…how.” Melia spoke so softly that Evangeline had trouble hearing her. “Remember…the…butterfly?”

  Melia whimpered in pain and Evangeline gently lowered her body back to the ground.

  “Would’ve…been easier…if I hated…you,” Melia murmured. And then she sighed and her eyes became fixed on nothing.

  “Please,” Evangeline whispered, but Melia was dead. Evangeline wrapped her arms around her knees and huddled beside her best friend, soaked, shivering, covered in blood and dirt, and utterly alone in the world…except she wasn’t alone.

  Evangeline heard the two members of Pandora as they broke through the foliage.

  Juliette and an older member named Dawn took in the scene, faces somber.

  “Are you hurt?” Dawn asked, kneeling beside Evangeline, checking her body for wounds.

  “No. But Melia’s hurt,” Evangeline said. “I think she’s…dead.”

  Dawn checked Melia’s limp wrist for a pulse. “Yes. She’s dead—serves her right.”

  “What?! How can you say that? She was one of you!”

  “She was a traitor. If that kid hadn’t killed her, we would’ve.”

  “I’ll dispose of the bodies,” Juliette said. “You get Evangeline back to the safe house. Where’s the gun?”

  “He threw it into the bushes,” Evangeline said, lying so smoothly she would’ve been shocked if she wasn’t so numb.

  “Holy Gods!” Dawn gasped, thankfully distracted from Evangeline’s lie. She’d just seen the golden box resting beneath some brush. “Is that it?” she called over to Juliette.

  Juliette looked over her shoulder to the spot where Dawn was pointing. “Oui. Quickly now! Take it and go! I’ll find the gun after I’m done with them.”

  Very gently, Dawn picked up the box, cradling it almost, and placed it in Melia’s backpack.

  “Can you walk?” she asked Evangeline.

  Evangeline didn’t answer. Taking off her own sneakers and socks, Dawn fitted them onto Evangeline’s feet.

  “Let’s get you out of here,” she said, tying the laces.

  Evangeline tried not to look at Melia’s body, but she couldn’t help it. Her best friend was dead—shot in the stomach. It didn’t matter to Evangeline who Tristin or Malledy had really been. All that mattered was that Melia was gone. Dead. No matter what she’d done, in the end, Melia had stepped in to take the bullet and save Evangeline. Whether she’d done it out of friendship or duty, Evangeline would never know. Does it really matter?

  “Melia saved my life,” Evangeline said, but if Dawn heard her, she didn’t let on.

  They walked past Juliette kneeling beside Malledy’s body, one hand resting on his chest.

  “Juliette, call Samantha. Tell her the threat has been neutralized, that I have the descendant, and we’re on the way back.”

  “Oui,” Juliette said. “D’accord.”

  Samantha. Evangeline felt the revolver she’d hidden against her stomach. It was time to face her godmother once and for all. It was time to get some answers. She wondered if she’d die tonight, too, and realized that she no longer really cared because she’d rather be dead than live as a prisoner for the rest of her days. Ready or not, Samantha, here I come.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  “Where are we really going Raphe?”

  “My house.”

  Dr. Sullivan pulled over to the side of the road and cut the engine. He flipped over Raphe’s right hand, pointing to an address scribbled on his palm.

  “Look, you don’t strike me as mentally challenged, so I’m going to make a leap and deduct that you don’t need to write your own address down on your hand.”

  Raphe ran his other hand through his wet hair, stalling. “Okay, okay. You’re driving me to my teacher’s house.”

  “And why’s that?”

  Raphe was silent.

  “Kid, in two seconds I’m going to turn this car around, go back to the hospital, and tell Detective Morrison everything you just told me, even though I’m not sure I believe any of it.”

  Raphe met Dr. Sullivan’s angry gaze. “I think my teacher, Mrs. Hopkins, knows where Samantha Harris is. If I can find Sam, then I can find Evangeline and save her.”

  Dr. Sullivan turned the ignition key and the car purred back to life. He put his blinker on and made a U-turn.

  “Stop, please!” Raphe begged. Come on! Evangeline thinks I’m part of everything that’s happened to her today! She
saw a picture of my mother in Samantha’s apartment and she totally freaked. I’d never do anything to hurt her and I need her to know that! That’s why I’ve got to find her. Please!”

  Dr. Sullivan kept driving.

  “Look at it this way, if you help me, and I find Evangeline, she’ll be safe and you’ll be out of the equation. Then you can keep drinking until you forget your wife and daughter ever existed, just like my dad forgot about us.”

  Dr. Sullivan slowed the car, looked at Raphe for a long moment, and then made another U-turn.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Evangeline ran the delicate chain through her fingers, searching for the clasp. She went around once, twice, three times. But there was no clasp.

  “It won’t reappear,” Samantha explained, “until you give the necklace to your own daughter on her sixteenth birthday.”

  Evangeline hadn’t heard her godmother enter the room. “So, you finally found the time to visit me in my prison?” Evangeline hoped her voice was dripping with enough sarcasm.

  She had washed off Melia’s blood and Dawn had bandaged her feet and then left her alone to “get some rest.” Instead, Evangeline had changed into her original hoodie and jeans, which had been washed, neatly folded, and placed in a dresser drawer. She’d tucked Malledy’s gun into her waistband, hidden beneath her oversized top.

  “At least you’re talking to me,” Sam said, pulling the desk chair beside the bed on which Evangeline sat cross-legged. Her godmother was wearing an ivory-colored sweater and green corduroys. Evangeline had never seen her dressed so casually. There were dark-gray circles beneath her eyes. Good—she’s exhausted, too.

  “Why did you try to kill my mom?”

  Samantha paled and Evangeline was happy to see she’d hurt her.

  “I tried to tell you at the hospital, but there wasn’t enough time to explain. I did it for Olivia—for your mom and for you.”

  “Liar!”

  Sam recoiled at Evangeline’s fury. “Don’t use that tone with me, young lady.”

  “Oh, get off it. I’m not a young lady anymore. You and your friends have made sure of that. And you’ve lost the right to tell me what’s appropriate for me to do.”

  Samantha look pained. “Evangeline, I prayed that Olivia’s death would be quick. But the Gods are cruel and chose otherwise, so I tried to help your mother die with some dignity.”

  “Dignity was a pillow over her face from the person she thought was her best friend?”

  “She deserved better, I know,” Sam said, leaning forward, her forehead furrowed, eyes glistening. “Don’t you think I know that? E, your mother was like a little sister to me—I loved her more than anyone in this world, but I couldn’t save her—no one could. Ending Olivia’s life as painlessly as possible was the only choice in my power. She was cursed by Zeus and she was going to die, just as the descendants before her always died—violently, painfully, and without nobility. I’m not proud of what I did, but I would do it again for Olivia’s sake.”

  “Spare me your rationale for attempted murder,” Evangeline said in disgust. “How long have you been in this cult?”

  “It’s a Sect.” Samantha leaned back in her chair. “I’ve been a part of it since I was twelve-years-old. My mother was a member of Pandora, and her mother before her going back for a very long time. And now I’m the Sect Leader.”

  “Good for you,” Evangeline said, clapping in slow motion. “You must be so proud. You’ve done a great job. Let’s see, you’ve lied to my mom and me our whole lives without us figuring it out. You must’ve felt very smart and thought we were pretty dumb, huh?”

  “Evangeline—”

  “No, we should go through all your big accomplishments as leader of Pandora, Sam.” Evangeline felt her cheeks flush and her temper flare. “You tried to kill my mom when she got sick and needed you the most. That was particularly impressive. You drugged and kidnapped me and locked me in a prison. You should be really proud, especially since all my favorite things are in here. Nice.”

  “Are you through?

  Evangeline felt sick to her stomach. She wanted to make Sam hurt like she did, or hide beneath the quilt, go to sleep and forget everything. Neither was an option. “What’s your real name?”

  “Samantha Nedrow.”

  “Do you know that Melia’s dead? Dead, like a hole in her stomach and blood everywhere. Dead like never coming back.” Evangeline’s insides felt raw and she could barely swallow the thick lump in her throat. I’m never going to see Melia again. She’s been my best friend since we were little. She saved my life. Now she’s the first person I loved to die. Will she be the last?

  “Melia was sixteen, Sam. But she was a traitor, right? So you would’ve killed her anyway? Good riddance. Again, fantastic job, clearly you’ve inspired great loyalty in your followers.”

  “Enough,” Sam said. Her hands were casually folded in her lap, but the knuckles were white.

  Evangeline took a deep breath. She needed to be calm if she was going to get out of this place. “Is my mother still alive?”

  “Yes—but she has congestive heart failure and her organs are shutting down one by one. E, I know it’s hard for you to comprehend all of this—”

  “Because it’s insane.”

  “For your sake, I truly wish that it was.” Sam blinked back tears.

  Crocodile tears. “Don’t bother crying. It won’t make me believe you or forgive you for what you’ve done.” Evangeline looked around the room. “So, this is it? Your big plan is to keep me locked up in this room until I magically produce the next descendant?”

  Samantha stood up. “My big plan, as you call it, was to never have you find out who you really are. My big plan was to protect you, just as I protected Olivia, so that you could live a normal life. But once you saw me in the hospital and found my apartment, it was too late. I know you as if you were my own child, Evangeline. You would never have let what you saw go.” Samantha walked toward the door. “In time, you’ll come to understand who you are and accept your fate. Then I can give you back your freedom.”

  Freedom? That’s a lie. “I’ll never be free again.”

  “Not like before, no,” Sam agreed, “but that life you were living was just an illusion.”

  “You really believe it all?” Evangeline asked, a feeling of overwhelming exasperation almost choking her. “Pandora, the box, descendants, gifts from the Gods? You believe that I can sing because Apollo decreed it, and kill because Athena gave me that gift? You actually think that Hephaestus gave me the power to create reality from my own imagination? For God’s sake, Sam, you believe that I can grow and heal things because Demeter bestowed that gift on a mythical woman named Pandora who only ever lived in Greek mythology?”

  Samantha’s eyes met Evangeline’s. “Maybe you don’t have all the gifts the Gods bequeathed—through the centuries, some are lost to the descendants as their genes are mixed with mere mortals. Sometimes, if those gifts do appear, they are weaker than the Gods originally decreed and descendants can only marginally control them. But one thing always happens. When a descendant turns sixteen and puts on the key necklace she becomes beautiful. I can’t explain why, but this metamorphosis has happened without fail throughout Pandora’s history.”

  “I don’t believe anything you’re saying.”

  “Look back on your life, Evangeline—on you mom’s life. Think about all the things you could never quite explain—all the inconsistencies that made you feel different—all the strange occurrences and abilities. And then ask yourself, how can you not believe?”

  “Because I’m not crazy!”

  “Dawn said Melia’s boyfriend tried to drown you.”

  Evangeline’s heart skipped a beat. She looked away from her godmother.

  “How long did he hold your head beneath the water?”

  “I don’t know. A while. I can’t remember.”

  Samantha arched an eyebrow. “Poseidon decreed that Pandora and her descendants would
never drown. And don’t forget, you killed that boy. Athena would be proud.”

  Evangeline felt a chill blanket her entire body. I couldn’t have killed Tristin…could I? But before she could reply to Samantha’s ridiculous statements or pull out the revolver, her godmother had slipped out the door and the locks were again thrown into place.

  “I. Am. Not. The. Descendant. Of. Pandora!” Evangeline screamed. “I am not!” Please—please—please don’t let this be true…

  Chapter Thirty-five

  They drove by a cedar house set on a one-lane road. The name on the mailbox was M. Hopkins. There were no other houses on the desolate street. Raphe insisted that Dr. Sullivan park a half-mile away and then bushwhack through dense woods so that they could approach Mrs. Hopkins’ home from the rear.

  “Maybe I am drunk,” Dr. Sullivan grumbled. “Tell me again, what do you plan to do once we get to the house?”

  “Find out if Evangeline is inside,” Raphe whispered.

  “Okay. How?

  “Look in the windows.”

  “So, we’ll get arrested for being Peeping Toms,” Dr. Sullivan muttered. “And then?”

  “Sneak in and get her out of there.”

  Dr. Sullivan grabbed Raphe’s arm. “Whoa there double-o-seven.”

  “Shhh!”

  Dr. Sullivan lowered his voice. “I told you, Raphe, we’re not breaking and entering. We agreed that if I drove you here, and confirmed that Evangeline was in the house, we’d call the police.”

  “But if we have the chance to get her out—”

  “No.”

  “You could’ve just dropped me off.”

  “Yeah, that would’ve been a responsible move.”

  Raphe looked down at his sneakers. “If we call the cops my mom will go to jail.”