Pandora: An Urban Fantasy Anthology

by Phaedra Weldon

  She yanked at him again, this time taking him against her as she swam up. The water warmed as they traveled and within a few minutes they broke the surface. She dragged him with her and then all but shoved him face first onto another rocky surface. Water rushed from his lungs as he coughed and choked over the leathery ties in his mouth. She rolled him onto his front as his stomach heaved and he lost the blood he’d ingested. He smelled salt in the air and the constant rushing of water.

  “What is it?” This was a new voice. Female. Not as high pitched.

  “Night Kin,” came the one that took him. “He tried to kill me. They kill us. So we take him. Taste. He is so good.”

  Something touched his cheek. Rick still couldn’t move because of the venom still in his body. Hands moved his head to the side and then he felt another bite on his neck. This one as painful though not as harsh. He made a small sound in his throat as she drank from him and new venom was introduced.

  When she released him he cried out inside. He was captive with no means of getting free. Or none that he could see. He thought of Bianca, concentrated on her. It was said the vrykolakas could sense their kind by blood. Even though he wasn’t a pure blooded vryk, he was at least a blood relative.

  He touched Bianca’s mind just as he heard the Mer say something that made him grow cold.

  “…plant the eggs. In here,” one of them said and touched his stomach. Hands moved his clothing and tore it away to expose his skin.

  Eggs?

  In my stomach?

  He screamed against the gag and realized he wasn’t making a sound. Nothing. He was completely paralyzed.

  They moved him on his back, his arms beneath him as they cleared away all of his clothing. He reached out to Bianca again and again, sending waves of fear and helplessness.

  This is not the way I want to die!

  Something shook the rock beneath him. The Mer squealed and screamed in a language that hurt his ears. He continued trying to move as he heard an explosion. Then another. Water rushed around him and he panicked. He didn’t want to go back into the water…

  Rocks struck him in several places as he lay unable to see or speak. The voices of the Mer had vanished, abandoning him.

  “Rick?”

  Again the rock shook under him as he felt hands on his face. They cut away the bonds on his wrists, ankles and eyes before the gag was removed from his mouth and neck. Bianca looked down at him and he noticed her neck was nearly healed. “Rick, can you hear me?”

  He stared at her. That was all he could do.

  “What’s wrong with him?” That was the Captain’s voice. The only lycan on the force.

  “Mer venom. And there’s a shitload in him. See those little marks all over his skin? Those are their stinger marks.” He watched her bite into her wrist and felt her press it against his lips. Her blood poured down his throat, warm and rich. A true vrykolakas.

  Abruptly he could swallow. And he did. His muscle movement came back to him, a bit more with each swallow, until he reached up and took her hand in his. Then once he felt it was enough he pushed her wrist away and kissed it.

  The wound would heal fast. “How did you find me?” His voice was hoarse, but it was good to speak again. His throat still burned from the salt water.

  She tapped her forehead. “I used your emotions like radar. But we’ve got to get out of here. The fleet’s outside of this place ready to take it down. We did it, Rick. We found the nest.”

  “So,” he said as she helped him to his feet. “They’re going to kill all the Mer.”

  “Yes,” she pulled his arm around her shoulders to support him. “You okay with that?”

  “Hell yeah I am. But I want the one that took me. Bitch was going to implant eggs in me.”

  The captain snorted. “That’s what they do, Rick.”

  A louder, larger explosion nearly knocked them off their feet. Rick looked around, realizing they were in another grotto. Lamps of trapped pixies hung everywhere and he realized the same time the captain did that he’d been laying on a stack of lycan pelts.

  Scavengers. Poachers.

  Disgusting Mer.

  “We can’t go back that way.” The captain motioned for them to follow him down a side tunnel. But Rick stumble-ran to the hanging pixies and opened their cages. Instantly the tiny dots of light gathered and shot into a different tunnel. “Captain! This way!”

  “He’s already gone.”

  Rick licked his lips. “The Pixie way is the best way out.” He pushed her in that direction. “Follow them. I’ll go get the Captain.”

  “Like hell. I’m not leaving you here, not after thinking I might have lost you.” She put her hand to the side of his face as a chunk of cave came down to their right.

  He smiled at her and grabbed her hand. “Maybe there’s another way this way.”

  The two of them ran through the same tunnel the Captain took. It felt as if the whole thing, cave, whatever they were in, was after them as chunks of rock and gushers of water rained down on top of them. He pulled her out of the way for some, and she pulled him to safety with others.

  Ahead of them, Rick could make out the back of the Captain for about five seconds before half the tunnel caved in on top of him.

  “Look out!” she managed to call before they were both swept away, back down the tunnel they were running. The water filled to the top and for a brief second Rick lost his hold on her.

  The current of the water, the rush of it carried them back and dumped them into the water of the grotto. It was filling too and his head broke the surface in time to see her pop to the top as well, unmoving. He realized a beat later that as vrykolakas, she had to breathe.

  Rick pulled her head above the water. He listened to her heart beating…faint but slow. The tunnel the pixies took was just visible in the rush of water. In minutes the tunnel would be underwater—and as far as he knew—that was their only way out.

  Maybe if he could bring her with him…maybe she could survive without oxygen for a while? He didn’t know. What he was aware of was that if they were trapped there, she would die and he’d be underwater, alive…and rotting.

  With a burst of adrenaline, he grabbed her arm and dove under, heading directly into the tunnel. About five seconds inside, the light from the stones disappeared and he had to slow down. Rick had to feel his way through, touching the walls and worrying the entire time whether or not he was going to make it, or worse, terrified that his blood had saved Bianca’s life only to have her drown looking for him!

  He kept the water out of his lungs this time but the pressure against his eyes gave him a headache as he moved. Rick felt overwhelming despair as the water suddenly propelled them forward and he smashed his head against the rock trying to protect her body.

  Abruptly the water temperature changed and he found himself tumbling down and then…

  Light.

  Magnificent light!

  He kicked toward it, Bianca in his arms, until the water became warm and they broke surface.

  Rick gasped and pulled her up immediately. The sun was just rising and he could see her in the light. Her skin was blue as were her lips. Dammit! He looked around to find land and spotted the docks. They were maybe a hundred yards down from the launch. The beach was closest. If he could get her to land he could give her blood.

  It had worked before to save her life, it had to work again.

  But as the sun crested the horizon, the lethargy it gave him seized his muscles. He fought against it but it was like moving through thick mud. Rick cursed his race—of which he seemed to be the only one—just as his foot banged painfully against something solid.

  He found land.

  Slow and steady he dragged himself and her onto the black rock. He had to pause periodically to build up enough energy to make a movement. As the sun rose higher, the harder it grew for him drag her away from the water, and she was cold.

  As cold as he usually was.

  Once he had her half out
of the water, he straddled her and had to smack his face to stay awake and even cupped water into his hand and inhaled it so the burning pain from breathing it would keep him awake.

  He bit deep into his wrist, heard the pop of skin and vein before he put the wound over her open mouth. Rick braced himself with his other hand to keep himself up. But the sun was so high and the need to Sleep was going to take him. They were going to die on that beach, victims of the sun and her punishment for being of the night.

  Rick had no idea how much time passed before he felt her stir beneath him. He felt her move with a jerk and then a gasp before he lost all sense of self and surrendered to Sleep.

  “Hey… “ came a voice in his ear as he opened his eyes. “You okay?”

  Okay.

  Am I okay?

  He blinked a few times. His skin felt tight. Raw. He put his hands to his face and she pulled them away.

  “Careful. I tried to shield us both and managed to pull trash over our heads before the Blinds found us. But we both got pretty burned before that happened.”

  The Blinds, the Night Walker equivalent of a homeless shelter on wheels. They traveled the early morning looking for Night Walkers who weren’t able to make it back home.

  But they weren’t on a bus. They were…

  “We’re…” He looked at her. She looked red and shiny. She was beautiful. “Where are we?”

  “My place. Well, my latest lair. You’ve never been here.”

  “No.”

  “It’s okay. We have heal time coming. Already talked to the new Captain—”

  “So soon?”

  She frowned at him. “It’s been a week, Rick. You’ve slept a week.”

  A week? Why? And his face must have asked the same question.

  “I don’t know…might be part of what you are. Of which I’ve told no one so don’t look so worried. And don’t worry about Jumo. He apparently can’t remember who was a Night Kin and no one is taking him seriously.”

  Rick pushed himself up on his elbows. He was naked under a thin sheet. “And the operation?”

  “A success. The grotto was cleaned out and the Mers destroyed. We found all nine hostages, including you. Unfortunately, they were all impregnated so they were burned.”

  He frowned at her. “Impregnated?” He remembered the Mers talking about sticking eggs in his stomach and nearly threw up.

  “Yeah…you were checked too, which is why you slept so long because they went through your insides with a fine-toothed comb. They didn’t think you’d take that long to heal, but they think you’re like me.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Rick?”

  “Yeah?”

  She kissed his lips. “Can I have another taste? Of you? I didn’t want to till you woke up and said I could. And you taste so good.”

  He smiled at her. “What do I taste like?”

  “Forever.”

  Gaze Of Intent

  A Leprechaun Prince finds true love as an old frenemy watches his back.

  The pot of gold was less than an inch from his hand, exactly where it was supposed to be–at the base of the rainbow. All he had to do was touch it and choose his wish–

  "Padraig."

  He froze, his fingers so close. The stare of someone's gaze on his back triggered the magic of his nature, locking him in place. Even if he got his hand on the pot now he couldn't vanish. He couldn't move—not as long as someone kept their gaze of intent on him.

  But who is it? He was unable to turn, to see who had caught him as he bent down to retrieve his father's fortune.

  Or…one of his father's pots of gold. No one really knew how many pots of gold there really were.

  His captor made clucking noises behind him, still out of sight. "I am surprised you got this far, and I can only imagine what you sacrificed personally to find what your father has kept hidden from us for centuries. The Morrigan does not give her services for free."

  He knew that voice. It was a voice with no accent, no inflection, a voice that was over a millennium years old. A voice that he believed was his friend.

  Mac Cuill, the last surviving King of the Tuatha Dé Danann.

  With his hand stretched out, Padraig was unable to turn and see his face. He could hear old boots on the snow, crunching down as he approached and then knelt, still just out of Padraig's sight. Out of the line of his magic.

  "I've searched for this gold for so long—I'd nearly forgotten it existed. It's unfair, that over the decades the Fairy lands have faded, the glory of their magic a thing of legend and bedtime foolery, and yet the gold of the Leprechaun lives on."

  The cold whipped at Padraig's metallic gray hair, the icy touch of a frozen land reaching up now through his boots and into legs.

  "Too bad I can't even look at it—not yet. If I look away, you'll disappear, won't you? And the gold with you. No…no. I can't have that. So you see, I'll have to make sure you're not close to the gold before I can even enjoy it."

  Rough hands grabbed him, under his shoulders, his chest and even his hips as he was moved like a living statue away from the hole in the frozen ground. The weather came crashing down around him, unable to use his magic to protect him. They were north of Prague, in the middle of winter, and the world around him was little more than a dark winter cloak of death.

  Padraig wasn't dressed for negative temperatures. He wore only a pair of jeans, sneakers and a simple cable-knit sweater. He quickly lost feeling in his fingers, but the pain there was replaced by the icy agony of something cold and burning around his neck.

  He was able to take a breath and shivered the instant the man took his eyes from him. Padraig fell back, his hands instantly reaching for his neck, only to encounter a torque made of pure iron. It was like touching a roaring blaze, holding his hand in the burning embers.

  A light blinded him from above, forcing him to put his hands in front of him. Padraig's teeth chattered and because of the iron his magic was out of reach. He shook violently.

  Mac Cuill's silhouette blocked out the light. The only thing he could make out was the halo of golden hair around his head. "Oh Padraig…what a shame it will be to explain to Shill Donaghue that his only son was caught stealing his largest pot of gold."

  Padraig tried to talk, tried to defend himself, but the torque tightened around his neck, making it impossible to speak. This couldn't be happening to him. The longer he delayed in getting the gold, the faster the gold would turn to coal. If it transmuted, there would be no magic.

  No wish.

  His fiancée would die.

  She was the reason he risked his immortal existence and his father's wrath.

  Even as his heart sunk deep in despair he caught sight of shadows over the hole he'd created in the snow. Shadows that lifted the gold into the snowy air. Padraig put up his hand.

  "Oh no, no, no…" the man said and put his warm hand on Padraig's wrist, pushing it hard into the frozen dirt. "I'm afraid I can't have you drawing attention to yourself. The story your father will hear is that you stole his gold, and it turned to coal. And after the life you've lived—never drinking, never saving money, always giving to charities and actually becoming a doctor to save the lives of humans—" he sighed. "Well, it won't be hard for him to believe this. You are a disgrace to your people, Padraig, and an embarrassment to your father. He will be happy to see you gone."

  Mac released Padraig's wrist as the shadows that lifted the gold descended on him. Their ghostly hands pulled at him from every angle and he realized Mac had called upon the Banshee to aid him. He was abruptly dropped into the hole where the gold had been, at the end of the rainbow. He tried to cry out, tried to move, tried to vanish. But he was trapped.

  And then the first shovel full of dirt was dropped in.

  No!

  "Goodbye Padraig. And thanks again for making me a very wealthy man."

  Two months ago…

  "You're a what?"

  Padraig gave her a disarming smile. "I'm a Leprechaun."
>
  He took a step back when a loud laugh exploded from her. She covered her mouth, her shoulders moving up and down in glee.

  Rain fell outside of his law office. He was on the fifth floor where the younger clerks and pro-bono lawyers lurked. The ones that didn't rake in the "big bucks" like the ones upstairs. Padraig learned the lawyers on this floor were just as capable as the ones above—only they retained their hearts, their compassion, and their souls.

  The upper echelon?

  Not so much.

  But Padraig Donaghue hadn't studied law in order to get rich. He'd gone into law to help those who couldn't afford what he saw as the soulless misers upstairs. His cases included victims of industrial pollution, the ones whose situations were caused by even more corporate greed. Recently, before meeting Shonti, he'd considered looking into employment law, interested in protecting the average worker from the corporate indulgences reported on the news lately.

  As he sat on the edge of his desk, dressed in his half-price dark suit and the used Armani shoes he'd taken a Sharpe marker to that morning to cover a bad scuff, Padraig gave his fiancée a withering look. "I'm glad you find it so amusing."

  "Oh Padraig," she said as she came to him and wrapped her arms around him. Shonti was the most beautiful woman in the world to him. He loved everything about her, from her dark skin, her expressive almond shaped eyes, to her electric smile. Everything about her radiated love and compassion, and it didn't hurt that his own magic saw her aura reflect the same power as well.

  He wrapped his arms around her. "Oh Shonti, I'm not kidding." He hugged her and then gently pushed her away until she stood in front of him. His eyes searched hers, blue to black. "I am a Leprechaun."

  "That's just impossible," she said, still smiling. "I know you're short—but that's okay with me. I'm short too. And I'll agree that you're definitely one of the prettiest men I've ever met—and I don't know anyone with that color hair." She narrowed her eyes at him and touched his thick tresses. "What color is that? Brushed metal?"