* * * *
“Eli, talk sense. What the hell do you mean, ‘she saw my eyes’?”
The other man’s large, tanned arms were crossed around the beer he was nursing as Eli drummed his fingers on the table. “Exactly what I said, Francis. She said it, clear as day ‘what’s up with your eyes? They’re all black and swirly.’” He groaned, rubbing his face. “Asked me if I was wearing contacts.”
Francis shook his head. “You sure you weren’t distracted? From what you said, this is a weird case as it is.”
“I’m sure. My cover wasn’t blown or anything–besides, I’d think she would have commented on the paper-white skin and the black claws.”
“I guess. Still, man, might only be a matter of time. Though, I hear if a Damned falls in love with a mortal, the mortal can see their true form.”
“Uh, yeah, except for the whole thing where I actually don’t like the chick much. I mean, sure I’ve got to hand it to her–she’s tough and knows what the fuck she’s doing, but she’s also paranoid and shut up tighter than a nun’s legs.”
“Gross, man. Point taken, though.” Francis frowned, rubbing his chin. “The only other alternative is her sensitivity. She’s either descended from a Damned, been touched by one, or has some sort of other latent power.”
“Checked her history. Diego didn’t ever get a hand on her as a baby. Her family’s clean.”
“So, latent power. Any artifacts, trinkets?”
“Nothing obvious. Mother’s wedding ring. The ring might be a shield, I guess, depending on the mother, but it was bought at a high-end jeweler only twenty-five years ago.”
Francis nodded. Eli watched him muse, hoping against hope his curious friend would take up his case. He couldn’t go to the Doll or the Secretary with this one–he’d get a misconduct and a deduction before he could blink. His friend and fellow Damned was an excellent information digger, though, and well-versed in lore.
“Hm. Well, I see why you came running to me, Eli. Right troublesome.” He took a draw off his beer. “I’ve got nothing special to do right now, though–so you keep wooing the chick. I’ll do some digging.”
Eli let out his breath in relief. “What do you want for it?” he asked.
“Easy.” Francis grinned. “You finish this one off, you owe me and my hell hound an excuse to get to Southeast Asia.”
Eli paused, glancing at the Damned dog by Francis’s feet, who yawned, revealing the inferno within. No one at the bar noticed it. Then again, familiars of the Damned were hardly ever corporeal. He snorted. “Done. No trouble at all.”
“Ah…the Maldives…Thailand…Vietnam…lovely all around.”
Eli didn’t hear him, frowning over his mental image of Samantha watching him in severe paranoia, telling him she knew he was bad news.
* * * *
Samantha realized she did not want to call her father about the time she realized she was cleaning the bathroom for the second time, her laundry was all finished and the living room–including couch and chairs–was vacuumed. The dishes had been done the previous night and she actually regretted it. Finally, she picked up the phone.
“Daddy?”
“Samantha bear! How did that project you were talking about turn out? I was going to call you but got tied up in Milan.”
Samantha smiled. Her father the world traveler. He’d taken her with him, when she was young, but these days she could only ever free up time around her birthday. “It’s okay, Daddy. Hey, do you have a minute?”
“Anything for you, sweetie. What’s on your mind?”
Samantha frowned. Did she need to bring her father into this yet? The guy wasn’t asking for money, hadn’t even bothered her for three days. She grimaced. Better to ask now, right? “Do you know anyone named Diego?”
“Diego?” Her father barked a laugh. “Sounds like a loan shark or a used car salesman. No. Why?”
“Some guy emailed me saying you knew him.” She tried to sound relieved, but in reality it only worried her more. “Sure glad I ignored it.”
“He asking for money?”
“No, Daddy. Just wanted to meet.”
Her father’s voice grew severe. “Should I make a call to the police chief? Can’t say he owes me a get-out-of-jail-free card, but I could wheedle him into checking in on you.”
“No, Daddy, no problem. It was just one email. Maybe it was the wrong address.” She fiddled with her ring, drawing the pad of her thumb along the studded edge. “Anyway, you having fun in…are you still in Milan?”
“Nope! Greece, now, It’s an amazing place, sweetheart. Maybe I’ll take you boating here for your birthday.” He laughed.
“Daddy…” Samantha chuckled. She hated boats. Seasickness never failed to strike.
They talked for another hour. By the end, with the help of her father’s cheerful tone, Samantha had convinced herself there was no need to mention her mother had come up. It wasn’t that important, and besides, he’d sounded cheerful. She didn’t want to mess it up by mentioning her mother. He always said she was the love of his life.
“Time for a walk,” she decided, and let herself out into the afternoon sunlight. It was a warm day, and she rambled under the fragrant trees to the park. Three days, and Eli hadn’t showed up again. What the hell did the guy want anyway? Had he just been a profiteer who decided she was too much trouble, too smart?
No, he didn’t feel that way. She couldn’t shake the feeling he was something more, something bigger. Damn, he had a pretty face too. She could use his body for a few dirty sessions with herself. It was a pity he was probably long gone.
She bought an ice cream and sat on a bench to eat it, next to a blond bombshell in a short skirt. Whew. I could be jealous of those legs, she thought as she idly took a lick, noting the perfectly coiffed 20s hairstyle with admiration. The woman looked like a magazine cover.
As Samantha tried to study the woman on the other side of her seat without blatantly staring, a crow lazily flapped in to settle on the back of the bench between them. Samantha nearly choked in the surprise. “Damn,” she said, watching the crow. She broke off a piece of her ice cream cone, holding it up to the bird. “Didn’t know the crows around here were so tame.”
The bird eyed her. The woman slowly turned her head to stare at Samantha with dark, swirling eyes.
Suddenly, it occurred to her that something was very wrong. The park had gone quiet, like a wall had been thrown up between the bench and the rest of the world. There was a smell on the air like rotting meat. “S-Sorry…” she stammered. “Is it actually your pet?”
The silence became oppressive. The woman’s eyes sparked red and Samantha’s breath caught. It was a trick of the light. It had to be. The woman smiled slowly. As she did, her skin seemed to pale, until it was sheet white. “You could say that.” The woman raised a hand, batting aside Samantha’s still outstretched arm with inch long claws which looked to be dipped in blood.
A ringing panic rose in Samantha’s ears as the crow ruffled its feathers, bending in at the same time as the woman. “I’ve got to go…”
“Do you?” The woman asked. “Oh, no. Tell me how you saw my pet, first.”
Samantha shook her head. The crow was sitting at the most two feet from her face. If it spread its wings, her nose would get tickled. She’d have to be completely blind not to see it. “I’m sorry…I don’t know. Really.” The woman’s gaze was hypnotic. Why was she pleading? Why wasn’t she up and running? Samantha leaned in close enough for the woman to caress her chin with scarlet nails. Samantha trembled, clenching her hands.
“Is that so?” the blonde purred, “How interesting. Do you know what I am?”
“N-No…”
The woman’s lip quirked. “So you see, but you do not understand.” Her tongue poked out of between her lips, licked them quickly and disappeared. Samantha’s heart pounded, heat on her face and roaring in her ears, like a distant crowd. The woman leaned in, bringing the full power of her gaze to bear on her,
and Samantha could barely breathe, her entire body frozen, joint for joint. “What’s your name?”
Samantha didn’t even pause to consider the repercussions. She had to speak. She was compelled. “Samantha Parker.”
“Samantha Parker…” the woman repeated in a purr. Samantha shuddered as the claws pricked at her neck, raising a drop of blood. The woman brought the drop to her lips. She placed the claw in her mouth, keeping Samantha’s gaze. “Daughter of Marie and Donald Parker. Twenty-five years old. Not a virgin, but also not overly experienced with men.” She smirked. “Mainly heterosexual but with bisexual tendencies. Were you eyeing me up?”
Samantha took a gulping breath, trying to stay steady. “No.”
The woman merely raised an eyebrow.
The truth burned at her lips. “Yes.”
“And able to somewhat resist a glamour, as well as see companions.” She chuckled, leg swinging out and beckoning. “Yes. You’re coming home with me, sweetling.”
Samantha rose, but didn’t step forward, clenching her hands again. She didn’t know what was happening, but whatever this woman had planned, she suspected it would be worse than anything Eli might have done. “No, I don’t think so.”
Again, the raised eyebrow. Samantha growled, forcing her hands to move of her will, her might, her thought. With her thumb, she twisted her ring around until it bit into the flesh of her palm.
Awareness flooded her mind, and Samantha whipped her head around to break the hypnotic stare of the pale woman, looking at the crow. It huffed, feathers ruffling out, and then screeched. Down its throat, Samantha saw roiling, impossibly bright fire, as if the bird had swallowed hell itself.
“What are you doing, girl?” the woman demanded as Samantha staggered back, ice cream in a long forgotten puddle underfoot.
“No,” Samantha whispered. “No. Stay away!” She threw her arm over her eyes, willing herself to run away, and the bubble of silence around them shattered. Samantha ran.
“Girl! Girl, where are you going? Be careful,” the woman called after her. Samantha kept running, long past the park, long past her house–what if the woman followed her? The crow could fly–she should keep running, run until she was in the next borough, past the Great Lakes, on the other side of the country even!
But only five blocks from the park her progress was blocked. “Samantha!” The voice was male. It couldn’t be the woman. She didn’t stop, arm still shielding her eyes, hand still clamped so tightly her ring was drawing blood.
“Samantha Parker! Hey.”
She careened into someone’s chest. Strong hands gripped her shoulders. She didn’t stop to think who it could be as she started to strike, still breathless with fear and exertion. The hands shifted, grabbed her wrists, and she struggled even harder. The silence came again. Terrifying, pervading silence. She was alone with whatever caught her, and she screamed.
“No! No, you can’t have me. I won’t go with you.”
“Samantha…” whoever she’d run into breathed, taken aback, surprised, and actually worried.
She blinked, heaving for breath and looking at her captor for the first time.
“Samantha. It’s me. Eli. I’m not going to hurt you, Samantha.”
She recognized him. He looked the same. But now she saw him. His eyes were swirls of black and white, mixing to gray in some places. His skin was stark white. He faintly smelled of death at first, but it faded quickly except to memory. She shook her head as her mind went numb. This must be what it felt like to go mad, she thought. “Stop it,” she whispered. “Stop it.” She tried to pull away, but Eli stayed strong, frowning.
“Samantha, tell me what you see.” His voice kept a calm, assured tone, so different from the woman. “When you look at me, what do you see?”
“White,” she whispered, shaking. “White, and red, and black. Your skin is white. I see you, I see you! What are you?” She half screamed, half sobbed. “I’m going crazy.. What’s happening to me? First the lady, then the crow, then you. You’re like her... I-I can feel it!”
“Like who, Samantha?” he asked.
“The woman in the park. The woman with the crow.” She took deep breaths, trying not to let the color of his skin get to her, the crimson claws which didn’t touch her skin but hovered near, keeping her close to him. “You’ve got everything hushed, too. It’s too quiet, we’re in the middle of the street–what’s happening, Eli? What’s happening?”
Eli watched her, holding her in place for so long sweat dripped into her eyes. He grimaced. “You’re going to have to trust me, Samantha. It’s time to go.”
Her gaze whipped up to meet his, mouth half open. “No. No, she can’t know where I live.”
“She’s gone, Samantha.” Eli murmured, and bundled her close. Quiet settled around them again, this time secretive and almost soothing as he walked them down the street. “But if you ran, more will come.”
* * * *
By the time they reached the apartment she was half asleep and he was practically carrying her.
“Samantha. Keys.”
“Huh?”
“Your keys.”
“I…” She pawed at her jacket pocket, fumbled out a key ring with three USB drives and more keys than he could count. Somehow, though, she brought out the correct one, fit it in, and turned the lock.
He spread out his hands. “I can open the door, but you’re going to have to walk in yourself and invite me in.”
She blinked. “Wha? What are you, a vampire?”
“Not exactly.” He averted his gaze.
She worried at her lip. “Can I trust you? You still haven’t told me I’m crazy. Anyone else would have taken me to the hospital.”
“You’re not crazy.” Eli said. “Anything but. Right now, you’re one of the sanest members of the human race in existence. I’m just trying to keep you that way.”
“And you’re not going to rape me? Or kill me? Or hold me hostage for money?”
“Right now, it’s more important to get you inside your home, where you hold the advantage. That’s why we’re not at a hospital. If you want, I’ll just push you in the door.”
She frowned at him. “If I let you in, will you tell me what’s going on?”
Eli thought about that. Should he? He was meant to be gaining her trust so that he could harvest her, and he looked to be about half way there. But she’d run from a Damned, and judging by her terror, a Damned more powerful than him. Who was hanging around New York like that? He had to know. “Yes. Or rather, I’ll tell you everything I know.”
* * * *
She watched him again. He was so deeply sketchy, everything about him was. She knew it logically but right now she was just so relieved to have someone telling her she wasn’t insane. Just this morning he’d been stalker number one, now he was helping her run away from the monster on the street. She couldn’t trust him, could she?
Well, she’d trusted him so far, and it had worked out. She was alive and unmolested. It was a leap of faith, but she judged that the ground wasn’t too far down, so she reached out to grasp the door and stepped into her apartment.
As frazzled as she was, she immediately felt better, more calm, safer. She leaned on the shoe-stool, just drawing several breathes. Her senses reeled.
She could feel Eli at the door jamb. Not just sense him at the corner of her eye, but feel him–a dark point of fire which sat, close and watchful. She swallowed, chanced a glance. He looked the same as always–starkly handsome with such lovely, brown, smooth skin laid over that broad shouldered frame. Frustratingly beautiful, given she knew he was bad news. At least, that’s what it seemed like. She knew he was bad news, but all of his actions were contradicting that. “Before I invite you in, explain why you can’t come in yourself. What happens if I tell you to come in? Are you in for good?”
“No. Not really anyway.” He answered quickly, without hesitation. “You have the power to cast me out–all mortals do. Most of them don’t know how to use it t
hough.”
She pulled her hair back with shaking hands. “What are you?”
Eli crouched at the door. “It’s a long story.” He grimaced as if trying to decide something. Finally, he sighed. “Look. This is something most people don’t know. You can let me in with concessions. Like, I can’t come past the entryway, or, I must stand on one foot at all times.”
Her eyebrow rose. “More than one?”
“Never tested it.”
She stared. “You may enter on the condition you hoot quietly like a monkey, stick out your tongue, do the Charleston, scratch your bum while inside, and leave after exactly one minute.”
Eli stared at her, dumbstruck. Samantha giggled, only a touch of hysteria in her voice. “The look on your face! Can’t you refuse?”
“Well, yes, but if you’re serious, I’ve no recourse.”
“I’m serious.” She smiled just a little. After everything she’d seen today, she didn’t exactly think he was lying, but knowing how far her threshold would get her might be useful in the future. “I want to see if it works.”
* * * *
Eli cringed inwardly. Did she have to include the butt scratch? “I’ll have you know this is the most inane thing I have ever done.” He stepped inside. The burning started in his legs, and to stop it he started to move his feet, trying to recall what the Charleston even looked like. He’d never been a dancer. His tongue burned. He stuck it out. His throat tingled. With a grimace, he made his monkey noises as quietly as possible, muttering through them. “Damn it! Did you have–ooh, ooh, ah, ah!– to require–aie, aie!–the butt scratch?”
Samantha was staring at him with comically wide eyes, but muttered, “Duh. Go on.”
“I could still–ooh, ooh!–hurt you doing this.”
“That’s part of the test,” she said, crossing her arms.
Pandora's Ring Page 2
