PANDORA

by Rebecca Hamilton

  “What the fuck is that?” Marge asked.

  “Hellhound,” I said. “Adrian, get the boy out of here while Marge and I distract it.”

  “We gonna kill it?” Marge asked.

  “No, this is a hit and run.”

  The hellhound clamped its jaws around the biker’s arm and tossed him into the air. He flew a few feet closer to us. I pulled out my sword and hopped out of the tree. I hit the ground and came up in a roll. I ran behind the beast and cut a deep gash in his side. He snarled at me and swung his arm for a backhand. I rolled out of the way.

  “Hey, Furry,” Marge called.

  Her foot slammed down on its knee, and a crack echoed through the yard. He yowled and snapped his jaw down at her face. She hopped out of the way. The hellhound hobbled after her. Her eyes widened as the bones reknitted.

  “What the fuck?” she yelled.

  “Yeah, that’s why we’re sticking to the plan,” I said.

  “What plan? You didn’t say shit.”

  “Then just follow my lead.”

  “Fine. Whatever.”

  Adrian groaned behind me. It had to be from the weight of the biker. The hellhound’s ears perked, and it rumbled at him. I moved to stand between them and pulled out a glass vial of holy water. My last one, the Van Helsings had better have more. I moved in and slashed at its leg. The hellhound couldn’t give chase if we kept working on its leg. Its attention shifted from Adrian’s retreating back to me. It growled, saliva dripping from its yellowed fangs.

  “You are a beast of few words,” I said. “Did Ose take your tongue with your freedom?”

  “Shut up, Food,” he said with a rumbling voice.

  “Sorry, I’m a little tough.”

  “And I’m bitter,” Marge said.

  She brought her leg up for a kick, but he grabbed it. His claws sank into her calf as he dangled her in the air. I slammed the holy water into his snout. He snorted and reared, slapping at the glass shards. He swung Marge at me, and I had to leap to the side to avoid getting hit. That didn’t help. He threw her into me. The force of his throw sent us flying into the nearby tree. We bounced and tumbled to the ground. I rolled back towards my sword and sprang to my feet in front of the hellhound.

  “Run,” I told Marge. “I’ll catch up.”

  Blood matted the fur where I had slashed him, but the wound was closed. I spun to the left until I came up behind him to sever his hamstring. His leg buckled under his mass. He turned, balancing himself on his arms and good leg. He lunged at me roaring. I sidestepped and raised my sword to catch him in the side as he went by. He lumbered on the ground, struggling to get up. Time for me to run. I dashed through the trees until I reached the road where Adrian’s car waited with its motor rumbling. Marge hopped into the passenger seat. My feet pounded on concrete. I flung open the backseat door and threw myself in. Adrian sped off.

  “Where’s the boy?” I asked.

  “He didn’t make it,” Adrian said.

  I hunched my shoulders, crossing my arms. “So that was all for nothing.”

  “Not entirely. That was him.”

  Adrian tossed an orange bottle of pills with a white cap. The label listed the address and phone number of the hospital. It had no patient name but listed the doctor as Charles Navotny. The name of the drug was typed “Menrazine.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Tres held open the door to the house as Marge limped inside with her arm flung over my shoulder. He stared down at her blood-soaked pants.

  “Looks like I missed all the fun,” he said.

  “We didn’t want to disturb your date.” Adrian shut the door.

  “So, you’re just going to leave me out?”

  “No, you do that all yourself.”

  I set Marge on the couch, and dragged the foot rest over to prop her leg up. She glared at the brothers as they entered the room. They only had eyes for each other.

  “You’re one to talk,” Tres snapped.

  “How about helping now,” I said.

  Tres stopped and blinked at Marge’s leg as if he’d just seen it for the first time. “Oh, let me get my first aid kit.”

  I slid to the floor and leaned against the foot-rest. The bottom of Marge’s boot blurred and came into focus. The treads were lined with some sort of white material. It looked like bone, but what person would put bones in their boots?

  “What’s in your boot?” I asked.

  “The bones of a Saint,” she said.

  I snorted and coughed. “That’s . . . ”

  “What’s more useful, idolizing the bones or using them to kill demons?”

  “Where did you get them, and have you actually killed any demons with it?”

  She leaned back in the chair with a smirk that defied the pain she must have felt. “I met a few people who deal in questionable artifacts. And yeah, they’ve worked out well for me.”

  Most of me cheered her on. She proved a resourceful girl, but a small portion was horrified. To have such a revered person used in such a base purpose poked at part of me that believed in the sacred.

  Tres came back with his kit, and I moved. I backed up to the doorway. He pulled out a roll of bandages, antibiotic spray, and scissors. “I’m going to have to cut the pants’ leg off.”

  “Sure,” Marge said.

  “Where’s Esais?” I asked.

  “Asleep, I think,” Tres said.

  “I’m going to wake him. We have a lot to discuss.”

  I handed the prescription bottle back to Adrian and walked to Esais’s bedroom. He lay in the middle of his bed, with one arm flung to the side and another above his head. The blanket lay in a pile on the floor. A red leather book lay on the nightstand. His forehead creased, and his eyelids twitched while his hand jerked at his side. His skin had taken on a grayish tint, and sweat reflected from his forehead in the light of the lamp. I sat on the edge of the bed and shook his shoulder gently. He jumped, his eyes flying open.

  “Sorry to wake you. We found something, though,” I said.

  He groaned, rubbing his face with both hands. “It’s fine. I wasn’t sleeping well anyway.”

  “Bad dreams.”

  “Mmm, more like a pressure from all around. A sickness.”

  I moved the collar of his T-shirt, sliding the cord around his neck until the piece of jet lay in my hand. Hairline cracks formed along the outer edges and strained to meet in the center. The structure of the gem remained whole, and the symbols were still intact. The necklace did a good job of protecting him. We just needed to finish this before it crumbled under the strain of too much power.

  “Make sure you keep this on you,” I said.

  He nodded. “What did you find?”

  “The biker decided to break into the asylum. Get dressed.”

  Tres’s yelling traveled down the hall to us. Marge leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed and a smirk on her face. Not a mark remained on her leg. Adrian and Tres glared at each other from across the room. I glanced at Marge, and she just shrugged.

  “What seems to be the problem?” Esais asked.

  Tres stiffened and forced a smile on his face. “It’s nothing. So, I guess it’s time for the meeting.”

  “It’s not nothing.” Adrian spun on Esais. “Were you aware our brother has the miraculous ability to heal wounds?”

  Esais cleared his throat. “Yes.”

  “How long has this been going on?”

  “I’ve always had it. You were just too busy being brilliant to notice,” Tres said.

  “He’s not the only one.” Esais took a deep breath. “I have power, too.”

  His voice reverberated through my mind. Marge jumped and snapped her neck in his direction. The color drained from Adrian’s face and he stared hard at his brother. His lips pressed in a thin white line.

  “Well,” Marge said. “I didn’t know freak shows came in Euro-trash.”

  “I can’t believe both my brothers have been corrupted,” Adrian said.
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  “It’s not. They have been gifted by spirits. His,” I pointed to Esais, “is most likely an angel. I’m not sure about Tres.”

  He glared at me. “Not more of this emissary nonsense.”

  “You’re one to talk,” I said.

  “Meaning?”

  “Let’s just say you weren’t left out when the gifts were given to the Van Helsing family.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “I can see it.”

  He smirked. “Of course, your special vision. Well, I guess you’re wrong because I don’t have any power.”

  I rubbed my temples. I knew he wouldn’t believe me. He’d wrapped himself in his cocoon of being human so thoroughly that he probably locked his own abilities. He probably couldn’t even hear the woman whispering in his ears. The three of them needed to work this out among themselves. Anything I could add would just be fuel to Adrian’s engine.

  “Fine, let’s just deal with what happened tonight. This won’t take long,” I said. “Then you can get back to your family issues.”

  I described what happened at the asylum, with Marge dropping an occasional comment in. Tres ran his hands through his hair, tapped his foot, and sighed the entire time as if he didn’t find my story interesting. Esais, on the other hand, never took his eyes off me.

  “So, what’s the connection to Ose?” he asked.

  “I saw something, same as what I saw at the carnival. I think Ose has his fingers in that asylum.”

  “The mental institution?” Tres asked.

  “The only one we’ve been discussing for the past half hour,” Adrian said.

  Tres shot him a dirty look before turning back to us. “Charlotte works there.”

  “Great. Help from the girlfriend.” Adrian set the bag on the coffee table and walked to the door. “Have at it, then.”

  Esais looked to me. “We can go to Charlotte’s tomorrow and talk to her.”

  “I’m coming, too,” Tres said.

  “We’re done, then?” Marge stood. “Then let me know how tea time goes.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Charlotte opened the door wide to let us in. “Good to see you.”

  She led us into the living room and motioned to a brown couch with patches of strings on the seat cushions. It sat between two tables with the finish worn off around the edges. Pictures of Charlotte and Nancy along with other members of their family covered the wall. Someone had recently vacuumed the carpet, and the smell of lemon permeated the room.

  She disappeared into the kitchen for a few moments and came back carrying a pitcher of iced tea and some glasses. “Please have a seat. Tres said you had some questions?”

  “Charlotte, do you know a Dr. Navotny?” I asked.

  She blinked. “He’s the head of the mental hospital I work at. I’m surprised you know of him. He really doesn’t deal with patients.”

  “I saw a prescription bottle with his name on it. I found it weird since I’d never heard of the drug,” Tres said.

  “You know a lot about drugs?” she asked with a stammer. “Where did you find this prescription?”

  “We found them with someone we don’t think they belonged to. However, shouldn’t there be some sort of approval before a drug is distributed to patients?” I said.

  Her head tilted, weighing my words. I tried my best to look concerned by crossing my arms and biting my lip. Her eyes shifted to the side, and she clutched the couch pillow a little tighter.

  “I really can’t say. I’m just a nurse,” she said.

  She looked scared and not just afraid of losing her job. She had genuine fear. She acted like she couldn’t talk about the head of a department without some sort of secret police coming after her. What went on at this hospital?

  The door slammed open in the hall with a bang and Nancy marched into the living room. She froze when she saw us, her eyes wide. Her head jerked in Charlotte’s direction and her lips pressed in a thin line.

  “You didn’t say anything about people coming over,” she said.

  “I thought you were going to be working until tonight,” Charlotte said.

  “You know I don’t like people snooping around in our house.”

  “They aren’t snooping. And you’ve never had a problem with visitors.”

  Nancy whirled on me, her eyes wide and red rimmed. “What are you here for? Why are you causing our town so much hell?”

  “That’s enough,” Charlotte stood up and walked to her. “They haven’t done anything.”

  “You’re going to take their side over mine?”

  “You’re acting really irrational.”

  “I think I’ll take my irrational self on.” She turned on her heel and slammed the door on her way out.

  Charlotte sat down and punched the pillow, muttering to herself. She blinked, looking up at us, and sat back. Her forehead rested on the tips of her fingers, and she just shook her head.

  “I’m really sorry. I don’t know what has gotten into her.”

  “How long?” Esais asked.

  “Ever since the carnival. She’s been driving me crazy, claiming there is a conspiracy going on and hell has come to visit.”

  Charlotte looked at him, biting her lip. She struggled with something more she wanted to say. Now might be the only time I had to snoop around.

  “Where’s your restroom?” I asked, trying to look a little desperate.

  “Oh,” she said, looking at me with wide eyes. “It’s down the hall on the left.”

  I paused at the first door I came to. The room was neat and clean, like the living room. The faint scent of cinnamon drifted in the air. The walls held pictures of family. A picture of Charlotte laughing with a small child stood on the nightstand.

  I passed the first door on the left, the bathroom, and stopped at the last door on the right. The room was in shambles. Clothes were pitched around the floor and piled on the bed. I wrinkled my nose at the stench of perfume and old food. I glanced at the shattered bottles on the floor, then to the stain on the wall. Had she thrown the perfume? Posters had been ripped from their places so only ragged corners remained. This had to be Nancy’s room and it looked like she’d had a fit of rage.

  I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath before opening them again. I scanned the room, trying to find any demonic energy. Yellow light flickered in and out of my vision. The afterimage flashed in my mind of a horned devil tarot card. A hard knot formed in my stomach. Damn Malantha.

  “Please don’t say anything to anyone. She could lose her job,” Charlotte said to Esais and Tres as I came back in. “I can handle whatever she is going through.”

  Tres moved closer and patted her on the arm. “We’re here to help, even if it’s just a shoulder to cry on.”

  “That’s right,” I said. “So, is there anything else you can tell us that will help?”

  She looked at all of us again and shook her head. “Please, just go.”

  Esais stood up. “Let’s go.”

  “But,” Tres said.

  “Charlotte needs some time to think.” Esais nodded to her. “Thank you for seeing us. Please let us know if you need our help.”

  “What did you find?” Tres asked as we walked home.

  “Nothing we didn’t already know,” I said. “Malantha.”

  “So, Nancy’s affected by this madness, and Charlotte’s afraid of her job,” Esais said.

  “That doesn’t get us closer to Ose,” Tres said. “So, what now?”

  “I’ll call John. He still needs to bring my supplies. Maybe he can get some information on this drug,” I said.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  I shifted from one heel to another as I peered down the street, waiting for John to pick me up. The streetlights began to glow in the encroaching darkness. I straightened the straps of the black lace dress and rubbed my arms. This was a business meeting, but I took every opportunity to dress up when I could. When you lived a life of blood and death, looking pretty was a rare treat.
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  John pulled his silver car up at the curb and stepped out. He held the door open and let his gaze travel down my body as I approached him.

  “Nice dress,” he said.

  Warmth rushed through me and up my face. “Thanks.”

  “So, I was thinking about this Italian restaurant.” He grinned at me.

  I rolled my eyes. He knew how I felt about Italian food in this country. We’d played this game often. “This town wouldn’t know real Italian if Giada De Laurentiis came and slapped them in the face with fettuccini.”

  He laughed. “What would you like, then?”

  “Somewhere that matches the dress.”

  “A steakhouse.”

  He drove fast, taking the curves and turns with practiced ease. The scent of leather surrounded me as I leaned back against the seat. The city passed by me through the window, its streetlights blurring into bright lines. The town yawned and blinked its heavy-lidded eyes, still railing against laying its head on the pillow to sleep.

  There were several cars in the parking lot for a weeknight. The steakhouse sat near a small pond and music drifted on the air from the back patio. It sounded like a live band instead of recorded music. I walked in step with John over the loose gravel to the double doors of the entrance. The hostess led us to a small table for two, lit by a small candle.

  “I don’t have your stuff yet,” he said.

  I met his gaze over the edge of the menu, and then turned my attention back to the list. I blew a tuft of my hair from my eyes and slumped my shoulders.

  “You used to be so efficient,” I said.

  His eyebrows lifted, and he flashed his white teeth at me. “Hey, some of what you wanted is hard to get.”

  “That’s not why I asked to meet you.”

  He put a hand over his heart. “You finally decided to admit you love me.”

  “No.”

  His shoulders hunched and he sighed for just a moment before his smile slipped back into place. “You’ll come around one day.”

  I dropped the menu on the table and leaned back, crossing my arms. The corner of my eyes pulsed for several ticks. I would have laughed it off, but he was acting serious this time. My fingers tapped against my upper arm as I studied him for several moments. The waiter brought our drinks and took our orders. I lifted my glass to my lips and swallowed several gulps of water. I smoothed the napkin on my lap as John placed his order. I watched the waiter leave and took a deep breath.