Pandora's Ring. Kaitlin R. Branch
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I told you she probably wasn’t dead?”
Samantha drew in a slow breath, as if counting to ten. “What the hell are you talking about?” She hissed. “Dad helped dress and bury the corpse. She’s definitely dead.”
Eli nearly groaned aloud. Damn it, the file didn’t say anything about a corpse. “I see. Have you heard of her deal?”
“What kind of deal?” Samantha snapped. “There was nothing in her will.”
Eli frowned. “A will? When was it written?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but three months before I was born.”
A will made so close to deal consummation meant Marie knew something was going to go down. Either she’d been planning a run or planning a fight. Apparently, she’d succeeded in both.
“Something wrong?” Samantha asked. “Dad said it wasn’t an easy pregnancy, so she was worried.”
“Hmm.” Eli mused, watching her sip her drink. He frowned. “You married?” he asked.
Samantha glanced at her hand, appeared to think for a moment, and then shook her head. “No. It’s my mom’s wedding ring. I just wear it on the ring finger to keep the creeps at bay.”
“Sorry. Apparently it sucked at it.” Eli muttered idly.
She laughed. Maybe he wasn’t doing so bad. “I only told you the truth because whatever scheme you’re trying to sell me doesn’t have anything to do with whether I’m married or not.”
“Wow.” Eli chuckled. “Pretty harsh.”
Samantha shrugged. “How the world works sometimes. Being single and a woman, I have to evaluate threats like this daily. Is his attempt to buy me a drink or a drug? Is he trying to get me alone to rape me or to ask me out?”
“Ah, so this is normal paranoia. How am I doing so far?”
“Pretty shitty.” She replied promptly. “Look, just drop the act. You still haven’t told me what you want. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want something. So what is it? Not sex or death, you would have done way better to attack me in the apartment. Money? Legally, I don’t owe you shit, and I bet my mom didn’t either. You said she made a deal with a Diego. So where’s he, where’re the papers?” She paused, frowning. “And while we’re at it, what’s with the contacts? Your eyes are all screwed up.”
Eli stared at her in shock. “My eyes?”
“Yeah. All black with swirly pupils. Kinda cool, actually. Freaky, but cool.”
Dark, swirling eyes? His glamour showed nice chocolate brown, so what was she talking about? Without the glamour his eyes were–Eli surged up in panic. She’d seen his eyes! How the hell? He needed to get out of here, fast. “Keep the stuff,” he stammered, and walked out.
* * * *
Samantha stared after the man, twirling the ring around her finger. She shrugged. “Weird thing to get all tied up in knots over.” she said. She looked back at the table, then her computer, and smiled. She had snacks for the next few hours. That was a plus.
Still, this was getting stranger by the minute. Once she was finished tweaking and checking the site, she needed to pay a visit to her mother’s papers and try and dig up something about this Diego guy, maybe phone her father. That was sure to be pleasant.
* * * *
“Eli, talk sense. What the hell do you mean, ‘she saw my eyes’?”
The other man’s large, tanned arms were crossed around the beer he was nursing as Eli drummed his fingers on the table. “Exactly what I said, Francis. She said it, clear as day ‘what’s up with your eyes? They’re all black and swirly.’” He groaned, rubbing his face. “Asked me if I was wearing contacts.”
Francis shook his head. “You sure you weren’t distracted? From what you said, this is a weird case as it is.”
“I’m sure. My cover wasn’t blown or anything–besides, I’d think she would have commented on the paper-white skin and the black claws.”
“I guess. Still, man, might only be a matter of time. Though, I hear if a Damned falls in love with a mortal, the mortal can see their true form.”
“Uh, yeah, except for the whole thing where I actually don’t like the chick much. I mean, sure I’ve got to hand it to her–she’s tough and knows what the fuck she’s doing, but she’s also paranoid and shut up tighter than a nun’s legs.”
“Gross, man. Point taken, though.” Francis frowned, rubbing his chin. “The only other alternative is her sensitivity. She’s either descended from a Damned, been touched by one, or has some sort of other latent power.”
“Checked her history. Diego didn’t ever get a hand on her as a baby. Her family’s clean.”
“So, latent power. Any artifacts, trinkets?”
“Nothing obvious. Mother’s wedding ring. The ring might be a shield, I guess, depending on the mother, but it was bought at a high-end jeweler only twenty-five years ago.”
Francis nodded. Eli watched him muse, hoping against hope his curious friend would take up his case. He couldn’t go to the Doll or the Secretary with this one–he’d get a misconduct and a deduction before he could blink. His friend and fellow Damned was an excellent information digger, though, and well-versed in lore.
“Hm. Well, I see why you came running to me, Eli. Right troublesome.” He took a draw off his beer. “I’ve got nothing special to do right now, though–so you keep wooing the chick. I’ll do some digging.”
Eli let out his breath in relief. “What do you want for it?” he asked.
“Easy.” Francis grinned. “You finish this one off, you owe me and my hell hound an excuse to get to Southeast Asia.”
Eli paused, glancing at the Damned dog by Francis’s feet, who yawned, revealing the inferno within. No one at the bar noticed it. Then again, familiars of the Damned were hardly ever corporeal. He snorted. “Done. No trouble at all.”
“Ah…the Maldives…Thailand…Vietnam…lovely all around.”
Eli didn’t hear him, frowning over his mental image of Samantha watching him in severe paranoia, telling him she knew he was bad news.
* * * *
Samantha realized she did not want to call her father about the time she realized she was cleaning the bathroom for the second time, her laundry was all finished and the living room–including couch and chairs–was vacuumed. The dishes had been done the previous night and she actually regretted it. Finally, she picked up the phone.
“Daddy?”
“Samantha bear! How did that project you were talking about turn out? I was going to call you but got tied up in Milan.”
Samantha smiled. Her father the world traveler. He’d taken her with him, when she was young, but these days she could only ever free up time around her birthday. “It’s okay, Daddy. Hey, do you have a minute?”
“Anything for you, sweetie. What’s on your mind?”
Samantha frowned. Did she need to bring her father into this yet? The guy wasn’t asking for money, hadn’t even bothered her for three days. She grimaced. Better to ask now, right? “Do you know anyone named Diego?”
“Diego?” Her father barked a laugh. “Sounds like a loan shark or a used car salesman. No. Why?”
“Some guy emailed me saying you knew him.” She tried to sound relieved, but in reality it only worried her more. “Sure glad I ignored it.”
“He