Pandora's Ring (5 page)

“A plate on a pin.” The man growled. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “You got yourself in deep with this one, Eli.”

“Why do you think I came to you? Something’s fucked up and I want to know what!”

“All right. Look. Samantha’s a sensitive,” Francis said. He walked them along the path, pausing streetlight to streetlight, darting glances around. His voice dropped. “Word is out. Cyrene wants her. And I don’t mean is on the lookout for her, I mean on the war path, going to find her and eat her bit by tiny bit. She’s got this theory Samantha’s soul can feed her more than once or something…”

“What the hell?” Eli snarled. “I’ve touched the girl. She’s got the same amount of soul as any other human.”

“Yeah, but it’s a soul who saw right through her illusion and apparently juggernauted a glamour.” Francis whistled. “Frankly, I don’t blame her for being curious.”

Eli eyed him with caution “Curious. What do you mean?”

“Experimentation. Folks like Samantha don’t come along often. Cyrene said there was one a while ago everyone and their mother tried to get their paws on before he damned himself to get them off his back.”

“Fuck,” Eli rubbed his temples. “And Cyrene wants her?”

“Says if it’s natural, we need to know her secrets. If there’s an artifact on her, we need to lay hands on it before anyone else does.”

“It’s not an artifact,” Eli said. “Can’t be. Aren’t they like, obvious as fuck?”

“Some,” Francis said with a nod. “But some blend into their user so well they are indistinguishable when worn.”

Eli’s mouth went dry. “The ring.”

“The ring? Her mother’s wedding ring?”

“That has to be it.
 
I’ve never seen it off her. Its power blending into her would explain a lot.”

“Yeah, but how did her mother’s wedding ring get the power? It isn’t old is it?”

“I don’t know. It looks pretty new, but maybe one of the stones is refurbished,”
 
He clapped Francis on the shoulder. “Thanks, buddy.”

“No problem,” Francis said. “But be careful, for fuck’s sake. You’re messing with something huge.”

“Yeah,” Eli grumbled. He frowned. “And Cyrene…” Anything Cyrene wanted, he wanted to keep away from her. Damn this had gotten complicated fast.

* * * *

Eli went back to Samantha’s flat and sat outside, frowning. If anyone knew crazy scary, it was Francis. He’d said something about screwing up the balance. So had the Doll.

He should have known this wasn’t going to be an in-and-out job. The balance was what kept the Angels from attacking the Damned, and vice versa. It was what kept the world from destroying itself. It was what in-betweeners used to monitor the health of their world. Eli couldn’t see or sense the balance. He just didn’t have the power or the training. But if they were worried, he should probably be worried too.

The scale wasn’t exactly black and white. Francis had always said it was more like a disk, resting upon the point of a pin. So weights could be added, subtracted, and the pin shifted accordingly.

That meant when they said the balance was shifting, they weren’t talking about a linear tip to a side. They were talking about the entire plate wobbling around.

No wonder everyone was freaking out.

He checked his watch. Six AM. They’d gotten through the night. He trudged up the stairs to Samantha’s apartment and knocked.

Samantha was a bit of a mess when she answered. “It’s six already?” she murmured.

How could this woman be rocking the plate? He was accustomed to thinking of ones who affected the balance as great and powerful; the Lucifer, the Messiah, greater inbetweeners. She was so vulnerable. This was insanity. She looked as much a wreck as he felt thinking about the whole thing. “Hey. Denny’s is open. Want to grab breakfast?”

“Denny’s sucks,” Samantha muttered. “IHOP and you’ve got a deal.”

He chuckled. “Deal.”

* * * *

“So, if you’re supposed to be harvesting me, why aren’t you?”

Eli poked at his pancake. Damn people put a lot of sugar in things these days. “I don’t like Cyrene. If she wants you, I want to keep you away from her.” He shrugged.

Samantha frowned at him. “So, couldn’t you do that by harvesting me?”

“Do you want me to harvest you?”
 
What was it with her and being so damn quick on the uptake?

“Um. No. Obviously. But knowing is half the battle and all.”

“GI Joe. Cute.” He snorted.

“You’re avoiding the question.”

Eli rolled his eyes. Women. “Yes. I could keep you away by harvesting you. But I would also kill you, and Cyrene wants you alive for some reason, since she didn’t just harvest you on the street. I’m Damned but not stupid. Something’s up.”

“But they told you to harvest me,” Samantha pointed out. “So shouldn’t you?”

 
“Well, yes, I should. But though we report to a higher power, Damned still have independent minds. We still make all our own decisions.”

“So Cyrene doesn’t have orders and she’s trying to trap me, but you have orders and you aren’t?” Samantha frowned. “You must be kind of a black-sheep, if you’ll pardon the expression.”

Eli chuckled. “I’ve got one thing on Cyrene, little as it means in our world. Humanity.”

“So you’re a Damned but you’re still human in your head?”

Eli shrugged. “Yeah. It’s strange. I guess that’s another part of it. You’re weird, I’m weird, maybe your weirdness will help me with mine.”

Her lip quirked down again as
 
she studied him over a bite of eggs covered in strawberry syrup. The waitress came over, refilled their coffee, asked if they wanted anything. “I’m good,” Samantha muttered. ”So, what you’re saying is, you’re lonely.”

It hadn’t exactly been what he’d meant to say. “Well, yes. But that sort of comes with the territory.” He considered a question, and then decided to go for it. “Are you lonely?”

She sat back, folded her arms and studied him again. “Yes. Mom died when I was born, Dad about died with her. No siblings. I had a lot of trouble making friends. As it was, I spent most of my childhood trying to come to terms with the thought I’d killed my own mother.” She sipped her coffee. “Then it turns out she tried to kill me first.”

“She must have been desperate, to make a deal with Diego.”

“I don’t know. Dad never talked about her. I don’t even know how they met.” Samantha dragged her pancake around her plate. “So what’s it like, being a sane Damned?”

“Boring.” Eli snorted.

“So why are you sane?”

“Bureaucratic loophole.”

“Happen often?”

“Not unheard of, not common either.” He tapped the plate with his fork. “I’m pretty sure a friend of mine is the same way, but we don’t talk about it. He drinks a lot.”

“Can you even get drunk?”

Eli blinked. “Uh. Yeah. Denizen of hell? We practically invented drunken parties.”

She surprised him by laughing. A pleasant, quiet, sincere laugh. “You’re a shockingly good egg,” she said.

“Thanks. Want my hash browns?”

“Sure. Want my pancakes?”

“I’m gonna get diabetes.”

“I bet hell invented diabetes.”

“Nah. Anything that prevents sins of the flesh is heaven’s fault.”

She laughed again. Oddly, he was certain he could get used to it.

* * * *

“Look, you’ve been with me all day, and it’s not that your company is bad, it’s just, I need a shower and a good sleep.”

Eli sucked in his lip. Leaving her at this juncture was a bad idea. Nothing had happened yet and that was what worried him. They spent the entire day loafing around the city, visiting places he’d not seen in ages, listening to street bands and eating wherever she felt like. It had been a pleasant day, all things considered, but he knew it would end sometime. Samantha clearly wasn’t scared enough, because now she was trying to get him to leave.

“Just an hour, Eli. You can come in after I’m done with my shower, play on the internet while I sleep.”

“I could do that while you take a shower.”

She huffed. “Okay, look. You’re a good guy but obviously you have not dealt with women in a long time. I need my freaking house to myself. No body guards. No friends. No nothing.” She stamped her foot. “My domain and mine alone.”

The strings around his wrists tightened threateningly and he held up his hands. “Okay, okay!” Good grief, she was scary when she wanted to be. “But only an hour. I’ll walk to the store and grab some snacks and breakfast for tomorrow and come right back. Deal?”

“Deal.” The strings eased.

Eli got his coat as Samantha meticulously gathered candles and incense. “Don’t open the door for anyone, all right? I’ve still got my concessions on, so I won’t have any trouble getting in. If someone else comes, just don’t say anything, all right?”

“I’m going to be in the bath, Eli. I’ll be busy,” Samantha groused. “Go away, will you?” She smiled softly. “I appreciate the concern, but I have a headache.”

He couldn’t resist a roll of the eyes, but pocketed her keys and locked the door behind him.

3

What a hellish day. Samantha sank into the bathwater filled with bubbles and lovely smells. The day hadn’t been so bad, but the night before had been hell. What was going on? What had she done to deserve this one? She splashed her face. No, no thinking too hard. This was time for relaxing, time for calm and not having to talk to anyone.

Not that Eli was difficult to talk to. He wasn’t a bad guy at all, in fact at times she found she rather liked him. But there was still the technicality that he was supposed to be killing her. How could she trust him? Then again, what else was there to trust? Neat trap she found herself in.

There was a knock on the door, and Samantha sat up in the bath. Who was it? Eli? She listened again. He’d said ‘don’t let anyone in’ and she didn’t plan to, but why would they knock?

“Samantha? Samantha! Can you hear me? Door’s locked.”

Eli. What the hell? It had only been half an hour. “I was promised an hour,” she called back, suspicious. Hadn’t he taken her keys? Maybe he’d lost them, or didn’t know which key was which? She got out of the bath, then wrapped a robe around herself.

“There’s someone coming for you, Samantha. I had to come. You have to come get the door.”

She caught her breath. “One minute.” She pulled on a clean set of clothes and cautiously approached the door. Barely breathing, she put her eye to the spyhole.

Eli stood with one hand on a cocked hip, his right foot out, watching the door straight on with a smirk. What the hell? Eli never smirked, even in her limited experience of him.
 
Was it all a joke? Had he met someone at the store and come back to finish the deal with renewed purpose? No, that couldn’t be right. From what he’d said during the day, it just wasn’t how things worked.

Something was wrong. Something was off. But when she spied again, Eli was waving to her. He knew she was there. “Come on,” he said. “We don’t have much time. I don’t want Cyrene finding this place.”

Her nerves clamored something was still wrong, but she was also confused. “Why didn’t you come in yourself?”

“Samantha, the door is locked.” His voice finally became recognizable, a mix of frustration and patience which was very him. “I can do a lot of stuff, but I don’t think the apartment complex would appreciate me breaking the door down.”

Well, he had a point.
 
She opened the door. “All the power of a Damned and you forget the key?

Eli didn’t move, but his smirk grew into a full blown grin by the time Samantha stood in front of him.

“Eli?” Samantha asked softly, leaning away. He was still standing oddly, like a model. “Why aren’t you coming in?”

Eli laughed. Dread crept up her spine. “No reason,” he said, but his voice had changed, become low and sultry, a woman’s. Before Samantha could react he whipped out a hand, grasped her by the throat.