Pandora's Ring

by Kaitlin R. Branch

  Eli’s fists clenched, but he knew he couldn’t reach Cyrene before the other Damned would kill Samantha. “Cyrene,” he snarled.

  “Oh, Eli,” Cyrene said, and rose, delicately wiping the corners of her mouth. “I was wondering if you would actually show. Such balls.”

  “She’s mine, Cyrene. You know she was assigned to me.”

  “And I’m taking over. You could have easily sealed the deal ages ago. Wouldn’t have been hard. They’re too soft with you, Eli. I liked you better mad.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have made that second deal.” He hissed. Damn it, he should have known she’d bring it up, grind salt into his wound. He should have been ready for the barb, but even with warning, he didn’t expect it would have hurt any less.

  “Was it you I made sane?” she asked, waving a hand. “I’d completely forgotten. You should be thankful. The way you work, mankind would have gone nuclear before you got to five thousand, and now you’re at, what, seven?”

  “Fuck you,” he growled. “I’m taking Samantha, and you’re going to drop this.”

  “Oh? So how were you planning on doing that?” Cyrene asked, spreading her arms wide. “Go on, Eli, hit me with your best shot.”

  Samantha’s eyes widened as Eli looked at her, uncertain of whether she was even cognizant of his presence. “E-Eli…” she whispered.

  He nodded. “We’re leaving,” he said, and stepped toward her.

  Cyrene slid in front of him, smiling widely. Her full Damned form rose several inches above him, and she bore down. “Again. How were you planning to do that, Scavenger?”

  Eli met her eyes. Something glimmered behind them, and he nearly quavered. Then Cyrene chuckled, and he set himself. “Any way I can.” He reared back and punched her in the jaw.

  Eli had known he was outclassed going in. He had known he had no hope. But damn it, second chances didn’t come around every day, and he couldn’t let this one slip by. He threw himself into the fight with every fiber of his Damned being, morphing into his full form. Cyrene launched herself at him as well and they slammed together tangling on the floor, claws gouging, teeth ripping. He lost track of the time, lost track of the exact circumstances, lost track of the woman struggling to reach him on the couch.

  “Eli!” Samantha screamed. The desperation, pain and fear in her tone jolted through him.

  Cyrene got the upper hand quickly, rolling over him and pinning him to the floor. “A modest addition,” she commented, raising a clawed hand and grinning. “But oh, what a sweet irony, don’t you think, Eli, to join her in the prison of my existence?”

  Eli gasped, struggling in her grasp. “No,” he growled.

  A second voice echoed his. Oh Samantha. “Eli, Eli, no!”

  Samantha was still on the bloodstained couch, twisting and shaking, desperately staring at him. Gods, he could only imagine how terrified she was. He could see the way her skin rippled with every shudder. Her hands clenched and shivered so hard, the ring on her finger drew blood.

  He tried to smile at her. “If you resist her to the end,” he called, “you’ll be considered a member of the Angelic race. Ticket straight into heaven. Trade secret, but hey, what am I going to do with it in a minute?”

  Cyrene gasped. “You dare tell her one of the forbidden truths?”

  Eli looked up at the woman who had taken everything from him once. “Bring it on, bitch,” he snarled. “Burn me. I don’t give a damn any more.”

  “Eli!” Samantha screeched. He hoped she’d remember what he’d said. She would make an amazing Angel.

  Cyrene brought up her hand, poised to sink her claws into his chest. Eli closed his eyes and waited for the final blow. Instead there was a shriek and a quiet implosion. Cyrene flew off of him, and he heard the thump of a body flailing on the floor.

  “You broke the bonds,” Cyrene whispered, in a daze against the wall. “How did you break the bonds?”

  Eli scrambled toward Samantha, who flopped to the floor and still writhed where she was, free of her bonds but utterly helpless. At first, Eli thought perhaps she had hit a wound, or she hadn’t noticed her wounds until she could move again, but then she opened her mouth.

  Eli heard the screams of those in hell. The souls within him screamed as he took them, no matter how willingly. He heard terror, pain, suffering and grief. The scream which Samantha Parker let loose in the room that night eclipsed them all. Pure, distilled, agony and power ripped through the room. Eli shuddered. Her mind had shattered. It was a scream of the Damned.

  But Samantha remained mortal, writhing on the floor, bending, twisting. She gripped her hair as Eli fell to the floor beside her, shouting her name.

  “Samantha. Samantha! Wake up, wake up, what is it?”

  “Stop it! Be quiet, be quiet, please, be quiet! No, no more, I can hear you. I can hear you all!” She sobbed, shaking her head, and curled into Eli’s knees. “Stop it.”

  Cyrene still looked shaken by the scream, the shattering of Samantha’s bonds. That meant they were soul bonds, and Cyrene was suffering aftershock. It wouldn’t last long. But what was wrong with Samantha? He wasn’t an expert on these things, but this didn’t seem normal.

  “Samantha, please, I’m here, let me help you.” He grabbed her hands before she could claw at her face, and even then she twisted in his hands, grasping at the air.

  “No, no,” she whimpered, digging her nails into his wrist.

  Eli looked down with a grimace, his gaze finding the ring, slicked in blood but glimmering. He squinted. Was it broken? It was diamond–he knew it, and the last time he’d seen it, it had been without flaw. What broke it?

  He stared at Samantha, then grabbed her head, levered her up so he could look her in the eye and searched her gaze for the telltale glimmer of harvested souls. Gasping, eyes rolling in terror, she blabbered over and over, begging for peace and quiet. “Please,” she whispered, meeting his gaze for just a breath. “Please, help me.”

  There it was. The soul glimmer. “Samantha. Your ring.”

  “Help me,” she cried. “Help me, Eli.”

  Cyrene rose, her lips parting in a snarl. “Now I understand! The ring is an artifact.”

  “No,” Eli whispered. “No, it’s more than that.” He looked down at Samantha’s hand, took it and pressed it to the floor. “Don’t move,” he said as he spread her fingers. Samantha whimpered, but didn’t contest him.

  Cyrene charged. Eli gathered power.

  As the ring shattered beneath Eli’s power, Samantha flinched. But then her eyes widened. Her mouth dropped open. Cyrene froze where she was, even Eli prudently decided to back away as a torrent of power funneled into Samantha. She lit up, and blazing souls washed the room in white. Thousands of souls! How was it possible? Samantha must have been dead already.

  Another scream, which he had heard before, but this time, eyes squeezed shut and arms flung over his head, he could hear the rustle of wings, the clamor of bells and drawing of swords. He prepared himself for the trumpeting voice of an Angelic, but it never came. By the time Samantha’s shriek had faded, Eli found himself being pulled to his feet and Cyrene’s laying body against the wall.

  “Samantha?”

  Her mouth was in a line, but she dragged him away, brokering no argument as they picked their way across the floor littered with bits of broken light fixtures and table. Her hand was miraculously free of any injury but absent of the ring. Had she ascended? No, there were no feathers, and no one had come to bless her wings. She couldn’t be Damned, or she’d be raving and far more violent, not this focused calm. Whatever had happened, they were both alive and walking away. Stunned by this turn of events, Eli followed her, and together they walked from the building without a whisper of resistance.

  * * * *

  Eli didn’t dare speak. He could barely breathe, such a miasma of power still surrounded her. He’d been in the presence of an Angelic warrior once. The terror of his opposite bearing down on him had been absent but the sheer awe inspi
ring amazement of Samantha was now comparable. She was glorious, resplendent, terrible and peerless.

  It took him nearly a minute to realize she was also trembling, her shirt still fell in tatters around her, and she must have been chilly even in the warming spring air. “Samantha,” he murmured, meaning to give her his shirt. “Wait, hold on.”

  She didn’t even turn to look at him, but marched on, expression grim. He tried again. “Samantha.”

  Her head twitched and he could barely make out her breathing. She was pale. Blood loss? Fear? He reached out, touched her arm, now alarmed. “Samantha.”

  “Shut up.” She shrieked so loudly a bird took flight from the tree above them. She put her head down, walking harder. “Car. Gotta find a car,” she said in a soft voice, almost babbling. “Car. Run away. No–shut up–I don’t care–no, car! Bus too dangerous, cab too dangerous– I’ll hijack it if I ha– God damn, it will you shut up?”

  Eli’s worry climbed as she continued to talk to herself quietly, head bowed as if she were walking against a strong wind. Who was she talking to? He drew out his cell phone, trotting along behind her and sending a text to Francis.

  Shit went down Francis. Find me, but fucking proceed with caution!

  The reply only took a minute.

  Doll says someone fucked up Cyrene. U?

  Eli considered taking the blame. It might get the heat off Samantha. But no one would believe him. Text me when you’re five away.

  He pocketed the phone. Wouldn’t do any good to have it out anyway. They were reaching the road and he was not going to let Samantha drive under any circumstances.

  “Car,” she said again, this time louder. He glanced up, found her looking at him. “Car. Get a car. You don’t get a car, I’ll get a car.” Her gaze roved around, terrified, and her hands shook as if she’d downed a whole pot of coffee.

  He patted her hand. “We’ll get a car. Come on.” He walked them into the middle of the road. The way Samantha looked, clinging to him, scared, obviously unwell, they’d get a good Samaritan in no time.

  Sure enough, a Subaru pulled up next to them with a man in the seat. “Jesus! You folks all right?”

  “No,” Samantha whispered.

  Eli patted her arm. “Found her in the park,” he said, putting on his most trustworthy, empathy-inducing face. “No idea what happened– No ID, no nothing. My car’s like three miles away, at a friend’s house.” He felt bad taking advantage of the guy like this, but Samantha’s whispering was picking up again.

  “Damn. Help her in, I’ll get you guys to a hospital.”

  “Thanks, man.” Eli gave Samantha a look as the Subaru pulled into a space and the door locks were popped, nodding at the man. Samantha twitched, but he thought she nodded. Hopefully she got the message to take a cue when she got it.

  As he helped her into the passenger seat, he gave her push.

  Samantha slumped over the man, who pulled out a phone. The man started. “Whoa, whoa, honey, here, let me help you up.”

  “No, no,” she rasped, and pulled on the handle, shoved the door open. “You, out.”

  Eli helped her tackle the man out of the car and carried him into the park. He bound him gently, clamped his lips shut, trying not to hurt him. Not his fault, he was a good guy. “No hard feelings,” he said as he set the man on a bench. “The bindings will loosen up as soon as we’re gone. Here’s your phone.”

  “Eli!” Samantha screamed. “Please. Car. Go!”

  Eli patted the man on the back, actually feeling rather sorry for him. “Seriously. Thanks. Don’t turn into a bad guy because of us.” He turned and sprinted into the car, leaving the stranger wide-eyed and struggling beneath the lamp light.

  * * * *

  The roar of the car’s engine soothed her terror somewhat. They were moving. They were moving faster, fast... “Highway,” she croaked. “Go fast.”

  “Where?” Eli asked.

  She tossed her head, trying to clear it, rid herself of the squirming, mewling voices which crawled beneath her skin. “Anywhere,” she moaned. “Just away. Fast.”

  He stepped on the accelerator and Samantha resumed rocking, clutching her arms and trying to steady her breathing. The voices rose and fell in waves. She knew they were the reason she’d been able to walk away from the ordeal at all, but God, at what price? Had these voices been in her mother’s ring all along? The thousands upon thousands of ghosts, talking, screaming, gnashing their teeth? The two clanging bells of power which pressed against her chest, threatening to burst her heart with every spiritual altercation they carried out? She’d never understood why insane people rocked back and forth, never understood the inability to stay still or stare at one single point for hours at a time.

  Now she understood. The rocking gave her a focus. Back, forth, back, forth. If she could just keep up the pattern she’d be okay, right? Back forth, back, forth. Don’t break the pattern, don’t mess with the rhythm or she’d break herself, she’d skip a beat. Only, the beat was her heart and it would just stop from the sheer stress of it all, the voices, the touches, the screams, the crying, the countless babes only just born and the one not there– I was supposed to be there. I was supposed to be there!

  The point on the dashboard she stared at prevented further input into her already shattered mind. Like a desperate drunkard struggling not to empty their stomach, to keep conscious, she swam in and out of clarity. Eli asked if she wanted to open the window. She couldn’t open her mouth, and shook her head once, gaze unmoving. If she just kept her gaze right there, she wouldn’t see anything to make another voice go off. She could keep them quiet, she could keep herself together long enough to get out of the city. They’d be away, they’d be safe, she’d be okay, she’d be fine if she could just keep her eyes there long enough. Once they got out of the city she could…

  Suddenly, she sobbed.

  The voices were in her mind. Leaving the city wouldn’t do anything.

  She was trapped.

  * * * *

  Samantha buried her face in her hands. She’d been rocking back and forth, staring at the airbag for the last three hours. He was fairly certain she’d lost track of time entirely. Could he speak now? Truth was, he didn’t have any idea what was going on. The ring was the source of the power, clearly, and since he’d destroyed it, the power must have passed to her. But was that power sheer souls? And why in all the hells had they been in her ring? That kind of magic was practically unheard of nowadays–people had finally started to wise up and stopped spelling and sealing things into anything even remotely breakable ages ago. So who had been so stupid? Or desperate? And why the hell Marie Parker’s ring, of all things?

  Artifacts couldn’t just be bespelled on a whim. They had to have a history, a meaning, both in general and to the caster. The obvious was, Marie herself did it–but Marie hadn’t a lick of magic to her. Still–not only had she defeat Diego somehow, but now her daughter had just laid the smack down on a higher Damned, using her ring.

  “What a mess…”

  “Where are we?” Samantha whispered, finally lifting her eyes.

  Eli shrugged. “No idea,” he said. “I went north. I kept going.”

  “How long?”

  “About four hours now.”

  She swallowed, gaze shifting to the digital clock. “It’s four AM.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Aren’t you tired?”

  “A little…but Damned only sleep a few times a month.”

  She looked small, terrified, but somehow his mental image of her was still ten feet tall.

  “You okay now?” he ventured after another few minutes.

  She shook her head slowly. “They’re just being quiet for a minute.”

  “They?”

  “Voices,” she whispered. “Especially the two big ones.”

  “Two big ones?”

  “They’re fighting.” She said. “They’ll start again, soon. I can feel it. We…we should find a hotel before they do.”


  “You don’t want to keep going?”

  “I want to be in a bed,” she whispered. “I want my bed, but any bed will do.”

  Eli’s throat clenched in sympathy, but he nodded, guiding the car off the route and into the next town. Thank God for the American highway system, he thought. Wherever they were, there was a Super-8 with a vacant sign. He hoped there wasn’t a BOLO out for the vehicle yet. Maybe they should walk in. Damn good thing he still had his wallet and effects on him.

  He looked in the back once they’d parked and found a sports coat, which he bundled Samantha in before wiping her face and coaching her on their story. Their rental broke down on the highway, they had a friend coming, and they’d just walked in. Their excuse for her raggedy look was as simple as a fall.

  He needn’t have worried. The attendant looked so sleepy, Eli instead opted to try his luck in not filling out the car information, and nothing was said, other than, “Continental breakfast six to nine, pool opens at ten.”

  They tumbled into the room as the sun broke over the hills. Eli drew the curtains and Samantha clawed her way out of her shirt, shivering.

  “Do you think you can sleep?” Eli asked softly.

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  He kicked off his shoes, led her to the bed and tucked her in, trying to ignore the scratches and bite marks all over her body. Cyrene had done a number on her. “Let’s try. You lie down, I’m going to get a washcloth.”

  By the time he returned with the warm cloth, she was asleep. Quietly, he bathed her anyway, wishing he could renew her more completely.

  * * * *

  They were probably staying put for a day or too, so he left her after an hour to hide the car. He made certain to wear the sport coat out, and changed his appearance enough, even if the guy figured out a description, there was no way they’d pin the stolen car on him. Besides, his identity was essentially a ghost in the system. Everything went through, raising no suspicion, and paid off then disappeared as if it had never been. Job perks, he thought with a wry smile as he collected some fruit and bagels in the front room.