PANDORA

by Rebecca Hamilton

  Oh yes, she had my loyalty. She had me wrapped around her finger and I was but a puppet on a string.

  Later that evening, I felt like a changed creature while I hunted, as though I had tasted fruit from the tree and made a pact with Satan himself. Sabrina and I exchanged wicked smiles when I returned home and I relished the knowledge of being her co-conspirator. Her assassin. No other held my affections nearly so pointedly.

  With the exception of my brother Robin.

  I returned to my room to find him standing by my door, leaning with his back against the wall as though he had been waiting all night for me to arrive. The vexed look in his eyes remained a fixture, shrouding his face and twisting my stomach in the process. I hesitated for a moment and then marched forward with forced confidence. “Robin?” I asked, my voice more cold than it had been to my brother in some time. “What brings you here?”

  Robin did not flinch from my tone and regarded me in silence until I stopped a few feet shy of him. “How did your talk with the Mistress go?” he asked evenly.

  “Good.” I paused. “She agrees that I am ready to assume my responsibilities as her assassin.”

  “Because you slaughtered two immortals in cold blood?”

  “Because I defended her honor, dear brother.”

  Robin nodded. His hands slipped into his pants’ pockets while his eyes shifted to the wall opposite him. “I see how little my opinion matters in this coven.”

  “With all due respect,” I said, “I do not think I need to be as coddled as you want me to be.”

  “This has nothing to do with being coddled.” His gaze returned to mine. “Flynn, you think, with all of the wisdom of a one year old immortal, that you understand the way this world works when nothing could be further from the truth. I walked the streets of Kilkenny before cars occupied roads. I sailed on ships when flying machines were the things of fiction. I am much more experienced than you.”

  I perked an eyebrow in defiance. “And you do not think I am ready for this? Even after I have proven I can hold my own?”

  “This has nothing to do with holding your own and everything to do with the type of wisdom you lack.” His eyes flashed anger as his finger rose to point at me. “The mistress may not care a whit about this sort of thing, but I do. You are being thrown to a horde of enemies while lacking even rudimentary understanding of the ways of this world. You are being sent out there like a lamb to the slaughter and not because you have no notion of weapons and fighting. We have already established that the student eclipsed the ability of his master far before now. I hold no egotism. I admit my place as your inferior, but that is just it. You haven’t the foggiest notion of why things are the way they are.”

  “And neither do I care to know!” Gritting my teeth, I held back the compulsion to bare fangs. “I am through with this cloak and dagger bullshit.”

  “Lang”

  “Fuck off, Robin,” I spat. “I think you are jealous and are being spiteful because of it. I have proven and will prove myself. If I need a tutor at this point, it is trial and error.”

  Robin nodded. “Very well.” The words spoken softly, the subsequent statement was issued with such harshness to be a stark contrast. “Since you have no additional use for me, I will find some place in this coven where I am needed.”

  He stood straight and began a brisk stride away. A frown surfaced on my face in a moment of clarity, long enough for me to say, “Wait,” to him, though I did not move to follow.

  Robin stopped. His back remained to me, but he turned his head to view me from the corner of his eye. “What is it, Flynn?”

  “I never said I did not have any use for you.” My statement was enough to coax him toward facing me fully, but he did not speak. I continued, “You are the only one in this coven who teaches me anything. I am going to need help. I simply do not want to be treated like an infant.”

  We regarded one another in silence until Robin nodded. “I will not leave you destitute,” he said, “But you are to understand this.” A pause punctuated his words. His stare became severe. “You will have to deal with the consequences of your actions from this point forth, Flynn. You chose this path. Now it is your burden, not mine.”

  “I never asked it to be yours in the first place.”

  “Indeed.” Robin narrowed his eyes. “Now, sleep well this morning, dear brother. Savor every moment of it. Because I promise you, it is the last restful sleep you will ever enjoy.”

  He turned away again and this time, I did nothing to stop him as he made his way to the end of the corridor and started for the stairs. Instead, I remained standing in the same place, puzzling over his warning for a few seconds before shrugging it off and entering my room. Once inside, I closed the door and removed my sunglasses, sighing from relief over the darkness that wrapped itself around me like a cocoon. I leaned against my door. A sadistic smile spread across my face. I did intend to enjoy resting that day, and planned to do so every subsequent morning regardless of what Robin had to say.

  My dreams were not to be so accommodating, though. As I lay in bed, I tossed and turned while the vision of a white room materialized in my mind. A chill of dread settled in my bones, so much like the dream of destroying my old apartment I had weathered a mere two mornings ago, but no familiar furnishings surrounded me this time. I beheld the sterile, vacant place where my dreaming form found itself standing, turning around to survey the immediate area.

  That was when I saw her.

  Standing across from me inside the void, holding one of my swords, the ghost of Lydia regarded me with far more disdain than even Robin had. On her chest were bloodstains marking the place where I had shoved a butcher knife into her body. She lifted her chin, sizing me up. “I’ve been watching you,” she said. “My eyes haven’t left you even though I haven’t said anything recently.”

  The sight of her brought loathe to the surface like bile rising to burn the back of my throat. I sneered. “Well, well, well. How fortunate does that make me to have an audience?” I raised my arms to my sides and bowed. “I hope you have enjoyed the show, Pet. Especially the night before last.” Standing straight, I adjusted my suit jacket, a snide grin surfacing on my face. “That was for you. I thought if you wanted to fuck with me that turnabout was fair play. Lovely touch, by the way, placing me inside my old apartment. Especially with those pictures of you and my parents.”

  Lydia held an even gaze. “You speak just like a demon.”

  “I am a demon. You would do well to remember that and leave me alone from now on.”

  “You used to heal, Peter.” She shook her head, lifting the sword as she spoke. “Now, you kill. You’ve been given unspeakable gifts and you’re wasting them.”

  “So wrapped up in the past. Allow me to help you with that.” I strode toward her. Lydia relinquished her hold on the sword in shock as I grabbed it from her hands and impaled her with it in one swift motion. Holding her close, I spat venom as I filled the air with the harshest whisper my lips ever produced. “Hear me now, you adulterous bitch, Peter is dead. He no longer owns this body and neither do you. I suggest you enjoy your afterlife and leave mine alone, or more people will die. Each time I sense your shiver or see your ghost, I will murder like a tyrant until you relent. Are we clear on this?”

  “You have no idea,” Lydia said, a pained expression on her face as her eyes returned my look of severity tenfold. “You don’t see it yet, but you will. When we come back to finally deal with you.”

  “Lovely. Do be sure to drop in any time.” I twisted the sword. “So I can continue doing this to you.”

  I did not expect her hands to rise, but they grabbed me by my jacket and pulled me even closer, noses a hair’s breadth from touching while she shook her head at me. Green eyes almost ethereal, they stared at me intently, her tone becoming sharp; stern. “You can’t outrun your destiny,” she said. “It’s looking for you and it will find you . . . when you least expect it . . . ”

  Lydia’s grip on m
e relented. Her body slid from the blade as gravity worked its wiles on her corpse and forced her to fall. I watched her crumple to the floor, an inner voice attempting to speak; a dying flame staring down at her, wanting to ignite again while failing miserably in its task. The ember surrendered its life in a puff of smoke and was no more.

  I flicked her blood from the blade and strode off into nothing, satisfied with myself, thinking now this would be the end of my entanglement with the shadows of my past. Her threats held no merit and did nothing to sober me. I saw nothing more than the last breaths of a dead woman and regarded it with far less concern than I did Robin’s words of warning. When I woke, the evil consuming me yet thrived beneath my skin. I rose to greet the evening and plunder it once more.

  Some time later, as I rummaged through my pants pockets, I found the necklace I had ripped from Lydia’s throat shimmering inside, staring at me as though possessing the stern gaze of its former owner. I held it in my fingers for a matter of seconds before thrusting it back where I found it and making a detour to a pawnshop. Mere days after that, I received orders for my first assassination. The vicious glare in my eyes became a permanent fixture, a callous expression I wore each night with every murder I executed.

  My sword stayed by my side. My coat concealed the knives I kept always on my person. My senses were attuned, my will as cold as steel and as sharp as a blade honed by the most skilled craftsman. I became the hit man of the undead, death personified and a force with which to be reckoned. Over the next four years, I established the name of Flynn through a testimony of ashes. All who stood against Sabrina feared the day when they would meet me face to face. I reveled in the power with reckless abandon.

  The adage remained as true to me, however, as it does to all who possess a special calling. Eternity does indeed catch up with you. And it found me in the most unlikely of manners.

  Part Three

  Four Years Later

  “Autumn to winter, winter into spring,

  Spring into summer, summer into fall,—

  So rolls the changing year, and so we change;

  Motion so swift, we know not that we move.”

  Dinah Maria Mulock

  Chapter Ten

  I despised when others kept me waiting.

  My fingers twirled an unlit cigarette twice before inserting it between my lips. The bright orange glow of embers sparking to life followed a quick search through my pocket for my lighter, and had anyone been watching, they might have been impressed by the deft, fluid motions of one action flowing swiftly into the next. The thick crowd of mortals seemed distracted by other things, however loud music, for one, and the putrid stench of their own sweat as they gyrated about the dance floor. I sighed and glanced away, scanning the area again for my target.

  Each day I permitted him to continue his pitiful existence, I was risking both my neck and my reputation. I should have never allowed it, lest my brethren speculate that the assassin might be growing soft or worse, merciful. Even I pondered the paradox if hesitating indicated a latent weakness rising to the surface but the compulsion causing me to stay my hand reasserted the reasoning behind my decision.

  He had ways of locating desired items that left all the seven covens in awe over his scavenging abilities. As such, when Sabrina touched my ear with her cool lips and whispered his name as my next target, I knew I had to use this moment to its fullest. My mistress left for New York and the window of opportunity remained opened for three days. This was the last day, so the time had come to settle debts with a man living on borrowed time.

  I drew from the cigarette again and peered through the smoke, looking for the garishly dressed immortal who chose this club for our meeting because he enjoyed frequenting it. That I agreed to this location became cause enough for me to question my sanity. That is, if I had yet retained any after all this time.

  Four years had passed, ticking minute after minute until the days began to stack up. Time itself held little significance, except to count one more stroke upon the wall; one more month elapsed, one more year winding to a close. Such seemed to be the unbroken melody which made up my life, with the plethora of concerns an assassin could expect to face underscoring it all. Robin’s forewarning that my peaceful existence as a neophyte was to perish had proven apropos. I sensed it as I rose each evening.

  I was a shadow and, yet, I was infamous. The name ‘Flynn’ possessed such a reputation, it sent a shiver down the spine of every immortal within the city. Merely evoking it would garner a reflexive glance over their shoulders that bordered on superstitious. I relished it, savoring even the plots formed against my life by conspirators who met their eventual end by my hand. All who met me ultimately met their end, and such is how I preferred it. Death saturated my life with crimson decadence.

  Still, it evoked the slightest bit of unease, that I had become this monster after only five years.

  “Losing your bloody edge,” I muttered, dismissing the feeling just as quickly as it had surfaced. I knew what caused this instability within a dream still taunting me, even after several weeks had elapsed. I relived it each time I considered what had placed me on my current course a memory from my mortal days I had never regained. To recapture something lost after five years was nothing short of a miracle.

  Glancing at my watch, I frowned at the time before shifting my attention back to the task at hand. The urge to peer at my wrist surfaced and was dismissed a half-dozen more times until my quarry finally arrived. I spotted him strolling across the dance floor, clad in crushed velvet and lace; a stark contrast to the men and women dressed in shiny, modern material. Rolling my eyes in response, I stole a moment to reflect upon how often our kind indulged in the most garish fashions possible. His pale skin nearly glowing from the combination of dark clothing and strobe lights, Anthony seemed only to lack a flashing sign to advertise what he was.

  The mortal woman holding onto his arm added to the absurdity with her too-thick makeup and promiscuous attire. Together, they made their way to one of the empty tables, Anthony kissing her hand and sliding out a chair for her in deference toward the lady she certainly was not. I stepped from the shadows, drawing from my cigarette and exhaling a cloud of smoke large enough to give myself away. The movement and the puff of white worked their magic. Anthony turned his head, spotting me, while I shot him an impatient glare.

  “Excuse me, my dear,” Anthony said to his companion. “A little business to attend to.” He winked at her while stepping away, leaving her to watch his departure until a waitress stole her attention. He looked at me and cocked his head toward the back, prompting me to straighten. I pivoted to stroll for the exit, not bothering to wait for him.

  Once outside, a rush of cold air hit me, settling my nerves especially when the noise from the godforsaken establishment faded. I strolled to the other side of the vacant alley and leaned against the building opposite, finishing my cigarette and tossing its remnant onto the pavement. Just as the depleted nicotine smashed into the ground, the door swung open again, bringing with it a painful reminder of the music and stench from inside. Anthony smiled as he advanced toward me, a loud click stilling the night once more.

  “Flynn!” Anthony said, the tone of his voice making it sound as though we were long-lost friends. “I didn’t realize you were to return so shortly! You certainly don’t waste time, do you?”

  “I told you two nights, Anthony,” I said, without moving from my position. “And you agreed. It has been two nights and here I am.”

  “And I should have known Flynn is a man of his word.” Anthony adjusted the cravat tied around his neck, another embellishment making his entire outfit look all the more idiotic. “I trust the arrangement we agreed upon is still favorable?”

  My facial expression remained stoic. “Were you able to find it?”

  Anthony chuckled. “I am able to find anything, given enough persuasion. I spent the better part of last evening interrogating mortals and bleeding them dry to find its current owner.
One of my more daunting challenges, but, I found it.”

  “Let me see it.”

  “Tut, tut.” Anthony lifted a finger, wagging it back and forth in a gesture that threatened to cost me my self-restraint. With tremendous effort, I pushed aside my agitation. “First, the answer to my question. You told me that if I procured your trinket, you would offer me protection from Sabrina. Is this agreement still favorable?”

  “I have not indicated otherwise.” I glared as much as possible through the dark lenses of my sunglasses. Stepping forward a pace, I folded my arms across my chest, feeling the hilt of my knives press against my body from their position underneath my heavy wool coat. “Now, allow me to see it. My end of the bargain is contingent upon this being the item I requested.”

  “Very well.” Anthony slipped a hand into his jacket and removed his wallet from his interior pocket. My anticipation mounted. “I recognized it instantly from your description, so I think you’ll find this to be the charm in question.” He opened the billfold. Had I a pulse, it would have been racing. His actions took on painful slowness, with my mind already envisioning the item I sold in haste four years ago. He reached inside, but then paused.

  I could have spat acid when he closed the wallet again.

  “You know, Flynn, I find it strange that an immortal with your reputation asked for something like this,” he began, apparently emboldened by my affirmation that I still considered our deal favorable. Anthony dug into his coat again and produced a pack of cigarettes from within. “I’ve fielded some fairly unusual requests ” One stick wound up perched between his lips while he fumbled for his lighter. “ And discovered a great deal about other vampires as a result, but when you told me you wanted something so . . . feminine . . . I was taken aback.” He chuckled, exhaling smoke through his nostrils while pocketing his lighter. “I thought, if anything, you would desire some sort of weapon.”