Pandora: An Urban Fantasy Anthology

by Phaedra Weldon

  The older man turned and smiled at me. His hair was shoulder-length and graying, though his face didn’t appear aged at all. When he came to me, I was overwhelmed with a feeling of calm.

  “You were in the room,” I said. “The one I couldn’t see.”

  He nodded and pulled his shirt to the side to reveal a tattoo. It looked…I didn’t recognize it, but I figured out what it was. “That’s the sigil Raz told me about.”

  “Yes.” He said. “I don’t suggest you stay here much longer, Aaron. Raz will be back, and she will find you. She won’t stop until all of the children are dead.”

  He was right. I knew I couldn’t stay. I needed to move. To keep moving. It wouldn’t take her long to track down any news about a shooting that night, and find the victim’s name. Pushing myself up, I felt a slight tenderness in my chest. Delilah opened a bag she was holding and placed clothing on the foot of the bed. “Get dressed. If we do this right, we can be on a train tonight.”

  “Headed where?” I pulled the clothing to me. Jeans, a hoodie and underwear and socks.

  “Alaska!” the little girl said as she clapped her hands. “We’re gonna go see the lights.”

  I looked at Delilah. “The lights?”

  “There’s more of us here than you realize, Aaron. We have an army massing, one started nearly a century ago. It’s what Raz fears the most, Aaron. It’s why she never wanted to let you go. Now that you’re here, our true fight can begin.”

  She put her hand in mine. “Welcome to the new Fomalhaut, Aaron Michael.”

  The Mer

  Vampires chasing Mermaids….need I say more?

  The Grey Lady slashed the knife across Bianca’s neck.

  Time stopped as Rick’s preternatural senses picked up the scent of fresh blood. The blade cut through to the neck bone. Bianca’s eyes remained wide, her mouth in a perfect “O” as her head tilted back and hung for a few seconds, still connected by bone, before the body collapsed at the knees and disappeared in the high, dried grass outside the Beer & Brew.

  A woman's laughter danced in the drizzling air. His hair was plastered to the sides of his face and the rain falling from his raven locks blurred the horrific vision in front him.

  One hundred years.

  His partner for over half his life. He heard the heart continue to beat, slowing as she bled out.

  A single beat.

  Then silence.

  He stood a few feet away, closer to the bar’s exterior than Bianca’s body. His right shoulder bled from a knife wound. If he wasn’t careful, the smell of it would gather more of the rogue Night Walkers than he could handle. He lifted the Desert Eagle in his hand and aimed it at the woman dancing in the mist.

  Parasite? Demon? What was it? How could it have taken down a vrykolakas so fast…so easily?

  He fired three shots. Whatever she was, the Grey Lady was solid. Blood sprayed from a hit to her shoulder. The Grey Lady turned and opened her mouth.

  The air in front of him folded as colorless sound struck him head on. Nothing prepared him for the blow or the pain. Any closer and he assumed the resonance would shatter his skull, or scramble his brain. A soundless scream like that could only mean one creature.

  Mer.

  The scream robbed him of his balance and he fell forward, almost on his face. He stopped himself with his hands, his gun gleaming under the moonlight. He fought the urge to puke and put his hands to his ears. They came away with blood. The reverberation destroyed the bones of his inner ear and ruptured his ear drum.

  He snarled when he spotted her, running away in the mist, toward the cave entrance to the underground market.

  Oh no you don’t!

  He managed to right himself, but knew he wasn’t standing at a proper angle. His gun rested on the ground at his feet, but if he bent over to pick it up he’d land on his face. His inner ear was already healing, but it would take time to regain his balance. He reached behind him for his knife and took off at a less than stable run after the Mer.

  The instant his preternatural senses hit the darkness he slowed. The smell of mildew and rotting green along with the cold air of descent caressed his skin. He raked his wet hair back from his face and watched in the darkness as he walked the tunnel.

  More of that insane laughter filled the heavy air as he moved through the veil that kept this world hidden from the one above. The only souls that found this place were the ones looking for it. The bustling market spread out before him, a hollowed out rock filled with stocked goods and services only those in the Night would require. Bags of blood in packs of ice, bottled vintages as well. Herbs, spices and potions rested alongside freshly slaughtered creatures no one wanted to know existed…except when it was dead.

  Clothing of all kinds, most of it stolen from above and resold here for pennies on the dollar.

  In the center a fountain of crystal trickled water from the purest spring. The only catch were the parasites living along the edge, controlled by other under market creatures who commanded them to jump into a drinker’s pocket and steal their coin.

  To the left was the grotto where underground wells bubbled up from the nearby ocean. Water fell from the ceiling, and though the trip into the market had been a short one, Rick knew from experience he was several miles below the surface.

  He caught sight of the Grey Lady just ahead and heard her laughter over the cacophony of the crowd. Market patrons, recognizing his uniform of black and the small silver pentagram on his lapel, moved out of his way as he took off after her. She bolted through a walkway between caves and he saw her slip into the market’s only bar, Nocturnal.

  Rick stopped just outside the entrance and drew a green sigil in the air. The image hung for a few seconds before it rose and settled over the door. The shield would prevent anyone from coming in, but it would allow patrons to exit.

  And they did, in droves. The proprietor would have been immediately aware of the magic, and its signature. And no one wanted to be in a bar when the law came in.

  He looked for the Grey Lady among the exiting patrons. When he didn’t see her, Rick counted to ten after the last person left and slipped inside, through the sigil’s magic. The bar looked like it always did. Dark and unkept, just the way the patrons liked it. The owner was a former treaty enforcer and a friend of the force. Rick knew where he kept his weapons and strode straight to the bar to grab one. A colt .45 was the first one up, and that was enough. He would have preferred his Eagle, but he’d take what he could get. His inner ear had healed but nothing cooled his rage at Bianca’s loss.

  The back of the bar was just a continuation of the grotto from the market, an open pool that fed in from the ocean. The Grey Lady stood by the water, her colorless garments on the ground at her feet. She stood before it naked. He raised his gun, and started toward her.

  He was about to tell her to halt when he sensed another heartbeat. Rick glanced to his right and stopped.

  Jumo Razor sat in a chair propped against the back wall. His hands were crossed over his chest and he was watching Rick with red eyes. Jumo was known to be the craziest motherfucker in the underground. A vrykolakas who fed on his own kind. There were laws against it, but no one had ever caught Jumo in the act, and no one ever wanted to stand up as a witness to his crimes.

  And who could blame them? Jumo was big, maybe three hundred plus—and it wasn’t fat. It was hard muscle. Rumor was Jumo was a heavyweight wrestler when he lived and he’d gone crazy before he was turned. Rick didn’t care. He just wanted him out of the bar.

  It didn’t look as if Jumo was going to interfere, and he did find it odd the bastard hadn’t run out with the rest of the rats. Either way, he had a murderess about to flee into the ocean. He just hoped Jumo stayed out of it.

  “Stop right there!” he shouted as he continued on to stand a few feet from the Mer. “You’re under arrest for the murder and decapitation of three sylphs, one leaf eater, and three vrykolakas, one of which was my partner.”

  The Mer
didn’t react and continued stepping out of her dress. Her skin had mottled, no longer the colorless bleach before. Rick saw scales forming as she dipped her toe in the water. Her hair had changed and continued to morph as she shifted into her true form.

  Mers were the least understood within the ‘ground creatures. They usually stayed down deep in their black homes and only ventured up when they were hungry or bored. And this one had been plenty of both. He nor anyone else on his squad had seen such carnage all caused by a single criminal.

  And Rick was the only one that knew she was a Mer.

  “You…are not like the others.”

  Her voice was a bell in his ears. Tonal qualities that continued on long after the instrument was struck. Rick shook his head to clear it. “What I am doesn’t matter. What you’ve done is more important. I hereby order you to step back toward me. I’m taking you into custody.”

  Laughter again. “Really?” She turned and he saw the bullet hole in her bare shoulder. It leaked something like black ichor now instead of blood and the hole wasn’t closing. So no regenerative powers? He wished he’d read more on Mer. “And with what do you plan to take me, Night Kin?”

  Rick tried not to react to the name. This was impossible. No one knew he was Night Kin. No one. Except Bianca. And she was dead.

  Everyone who ever met him believed he was vrykolakas, a Night Walker like Jumo, like Bianca had been. Rick had the pale skin, the dark hair, the roman features, fangs, the need for blood… but he lacked the one thing all other vrykolakas needed.

  Air.

  Rick didn’t need to breathe. He didn’t have a heartbeat. He’d been born to this life, not turned.

  He was an aberration. A thing no one understood and his mother had known that, hidden that, and made him appear for all purposes, like a vrykolakas.

  “Night Kin aren’t human, my child. Their blood is true life. Your blood will make anyone, any creature immortal as long as they drink from you. As long as you live. This makes your life a danger to yourself.”

  Those words haunted him and he’d managed to fool everyone.

  Except a Mer.

  And now Jumo knew the truth.

  Shit.

  He heard the burly creature’s chair kick back into place as he sat forward. “Night Kin,” Jumo said in a slurred, dumber-than-a-pizza voice.

  Rick acted on instinct. He pointed the gun at Jumo and put two slugs in the monster’s head. Jumo dropped like a load of bricks. Rick got the gun back up and pointed at Mer as she rushed at him.

  She stood inches from the barrel. He saw fear in her eyes. And hate.

  Immense hate.

  “You speak of justice with your enforcers,” she said and her voice was no longer bells but knives on steel. “But who gives justice for us? You kill us, you take us, you murder our children, but no justice. I take justice.” She pointed at herself. “I take!”

  She moved—fast. Rick barely managed to turn to his right as she rushed under the gun at him. She clipped him with claws that were once hands, cutting through his black jacket to his pale flesh beneath. The slice was surface damage only but the effect—

  Paralyzing!

  His muscles locked from his legs down. His momentum carried him forward as he crashed into the ground on his side just before she rushed him again. He retained enough control of his upper body to twist and fire at the back of her head

  Down. She skittered and rolled toward the water’s edge and stopped. Her body looked broken. She didn’t move.

  Rick pulled himself to her, his legs dead weight behind him. He needed to make sure she was dead and didn’t go back in the water. He was only guessing at the Mer’s abilities, but he was sure a species like this one hadn’t lived so long without certain protections.

  Like the paralyzing venom now eating away at his lower body. Nobody told him about that!

  Another stage of panic set in for Rick—was it permanent or temporary?

  Was it—

  “Rick!”

  Bianca’s voice shocked him out of his worry as he pulled himself to the Mer. How…how was he hearing her voice? Was he already dead? Was this the After Death?

  But then he saw her boots, recognized the cut of her slacks and looked up into her heavenly face. “How—” He saw her neck, saw the open wound around it, but it wasn’t bleeding anymore. It was healing!

  Bianca leaned in close to his ear and spoke with her mind.

  He tried to roll back. She was right. During sex she’d nipped his neck and gotten a taste of him before he’d been able to stop her. In fact the night had ended in a fight because of it.

  “I would know your kind anywhere, sweetie,” she said as she put his gun in his hand. “Ah…she get you? Mer venom…paralyzing shit. It’ll wear off after awhile but I got a better idea.” She stood and he watched her move to the Mer.

  To Rick’s surprise she lifted the Mer by her arm and dragged her next to him. Getting down low she pulled the Mer’s wrist to him. “Drink. It’s uber healing and it’ll slap that venom right out.”

  “I don’t think drinking from a perp is—”

  “In the rules? Well, I won’t tell if you don’t.” She winked at him.

  Rick was ecstatic she was alive. Strike that. He was uber ecstatic she was live. He didn’t know how they were going to explain her survival to anyone, not with a cut to the neck that deep. Bleeding out is a nasty way for a vrykolakas to die. They drain out, their heart beating and pumping the body clean, then dry up. The myth was they experienced it all until the last second.

  He grabbed the offered wrist, listened for the vein. His fangs slid down and popped the Mer’s slippery, scaly skin. The blood was cold, not warm, and tasted foul. But the strength it gave him as he swallowed was close to euphoria. In fact…

  Well…the more he drank the less he worried about his legs or the Mer or that Bianca knew he was Night Kin. The blood made the stress of the important things go away.

  “Okay…Rick…that’s enough. Your legs are moving.”

  “Yeah…” He pulled back and wiped his mouth on his sleeve as he got up on his knees. He felt…drunk. That was the only way to explain the slipping reality around him.

  “Oh shit…I forgot. It’s sort of a narcotic. Crap. Come on. The Captain’s in the market rounding everyone up. Let’s get you—” she stopped and he looked at her. She was looking away. “Rick…did you know Jumo’s in here?”

  “Mmhmm,” he said dreamily. “I shot him in the head.”

  “You know that won’t kill him, right?”

  Rick felt a bit…surprised by that. “I thought vrykolakas couldn’t survive a bullet to the head.”

  “They can’t. But Jumo’s too dumb to die. And he’s getting up.” She let him go and stood. Rick watched her pull her weapon as he looked past her and saw she was right. Jumo stumbled around, but was definitely getting back up.

  Shit.

  “Don’t move, Jumo. The force is just past that door. No trouble.”

  “Night Kin,” he muttered as he fell back and tried to get back up. “Night Kin!”

  Oh hell he’s going to tell everyone in the whole damn underground. Rick started sobering pretty quick as he pushed himself up on his knees then stood. He picked up his .45 and was about to shoot the big shit in the head again when the Mer at his feet moved. Rick jumped back and watched as it started slithering its way to the water.

  Oh hell no you don’t!

  “Stop!” He trained his weapon on her slithering form and fired. Between her jagged movement and his still fuzzy reflexes, he missed. “Shit.” He started after her, his gun aimed at her and ordered her to stop again. They were inches from the water, him just behind her.

  The Mer stopped, turned and opened her mouth wide again.

  A larger colorless wall of sound vibrated the air in front of him. This time it felt like he’d taken the full blast of it to the face. His eardrums shattered again and he dropped the g
un. A silent scream of his own escaped his lips, heard only by those around him as he went down on his knees. He knew every bone in his inner ear was dust. He put his hands to his ears. They came away bloody.

  “Night Kin!” Jumo was up and running at Bianca.

  But Rick didn’t hear this. He started falling sideways as his equilibrium vanished. Something cold and wet caught him, stopped him from slamming into the rock. The Mer pulled her to him and sank her razor sharp teeth deep into his shoulder.

  His body immediately shut down. Nothing moved. Not even his eyes. He stared straight ahead. He could feel, but he couldn’t move, even as his ears rebuilt themselves inside. His hearing returned, but it was more like listening to something through a six-foot thick cotton wall.

  She dragged him with her to the water and then he was under it, the cold of it shocking him. He took in water when he gasped but wasn’t able to expel it. Just because he couldn’t breathe didn’t mean having water in his throat and lungs didn’t burn.

  It did.

  It was agony.

  She pulled his inert body down deeper, her hand on his shoulder, her claws sunk into his skin. He knew he was bleeding from the wound she’d made and wondered if it would bring sharks.

  Or something worse.

  The deeper they went the darker it was until he couldn’t see anything at all. He was blind, nearly deaf, and unable to speak or fight back.

  The cold got to him as well. As they traveled he felt things moving against his skin, and with every touch, he felt more venom against his skin, numbing where it caressed.

  Finally she stopped and let go of him. He sank just a few inches before settling against soft sand. But she wasn’t finished with him. She turned him over and roughly pulled his hands behind him. His wrists were bound tight with something strong. She removed his shoes and bound his ankles the same way. Then she wrapped it around his eyes several times, then pulled it between his teeth where she wound it again, and then around his neck.

  Even if he wasn’t bound, he wouldn’t be able to move. His lungs burned from the cold water.