Pandora's Ring. Kaitlin R. Branch
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breaths, trying not to let the color of his skin get to her, the crimson claws which didn’t touch her skin but hovered near, keeping her close to him. “You’ve got everything hushed, too. It’s too quiet, we’re in the middle of the street–what’s happening, Eli? What’s happening?”
Eli watched her, holding her in place for so long sweat dripped into her eyes. He grimaced. “You’re going to have to trust me, Samantha. It’s time to go.”
Her gaze whipped up to meet his, mouth half open. “No. No, she can’t know where I live.”
“She’s gone, Samantha.” Eli murmured, and bundled her close. Quiet settled around them again, this time secretive and almost soothing as he walked them down the street. “But if you ran, more will come.”
* * * *
By the time they reached the apartment she was half asleep and he was practically carrying her.
“Samantha. Keys.”
“Huh?”
“Your keys.”
“I…” She pawed at her jacket pocket, fumbled out a key ring with three USB drives and more keys than he could count. Somehow, though, she brought out the correct one, fit it in, and turned the lock.
He spread out his hands. “I can open the door, but you’re going to have to walk in yourself and invite me in.”
She blinked. “Wha? What are you, a vampire?”
“Not exactly.” He averted his gaze.
She worried at her lip. “Can I trust you? You still haven’t told me I’m crazy. Anyone else would have taken me to the hospital.”
“You’re not crazy.” Eli said. “Anything but. Right now, you’re one of the sanest members of the human race in existence. I’m just trying to keep you that way.”
“And you’re not going to rape me? Or kill me? Or hold me hostage for money?”
“Right now, it’s more important to get you inside your home, where you hold the advantage. That’s why we’re not at a hospital. If you want, I’ll just push you in the door.”
She frowned at him. “If I let you in, will you tell me what’s going on?”
Eli thought about that. Should he? He was meant to be gaining her trust so that he could harvest her, and he looked to be about half way there. But she’d run from a Damned, and judging by her terror, a Damned more powerful than him. Who was hanging around New York like that? He had to know. “Yes. Or rather, I’ll tell you everything I know.”
* * * *
She watched him again. He was so deeply sketchy, everything about him was. She knew it logically but right now she was just so relieved to have someone telling her she wasn’t insane. Just this morning he’d been stalker number one, now he was helping her run away from the monster on the street. She couldn’t trust him, could she?
Well, she’d trusted him so far, and it had worked out. She was alive and unmolested. It was a leap of faith, but she judged that the ground wasn’t too far down, so she reached out to grasp the door and stepped into her apartment.
As frazzled as she was, she immediately felt better, more calm, safer. She leaned on the shoe-stool, just drawing several breathes. Her senses reeled.
She could feel Eli at the door jamb. Not just sense him at the corner of her eye, but feel him–a dark point of fire which sat, close and watchful. She swallowed, chanced a glance. He looked the same as always–starkly handsome with such lovely, brown, smooth skin laid over that broad shouldered frame. Frustratingly beautiful, given she knew he was bad news. At least, that’s what it seemed like. She knew he was bad news, but all of his actions were contradicting that. “Before I invite you in, explain why you can’t come in yourself. What happens if I tell you to come in? Are you in for good?”
“No. Not really anyway.” He answered quickly, without hesitation. “You have the power to cast me out–all mortals do. Most of them don’t know how to use it though.”
She pulled her hair back with shaking hands. “What are you?”
Eli crouched at the door. “It’s a long story.” He grimaced as if trying to decide something. Finally, he sighed. “Look. This is something most people don’t know. You can let me in with concessions. Like, I can’t come past the entryway, or, I must stand on one foot at all times.”
Her eyebrow rose. “More than one?”
“Never tested it.”
She stared. “You may enter on the condition you hoot quietly like a monkey, stick out your tongue, do the Charleston, scratch your bum while inside, and leave after exactly one minute.”
Eli stared at her, dumbstruck. Samantha giggled, only a touch of hysteria in her voice. “The look on your face! Can’t you refuse?”
“Well, yes, but if you’re serious, I’ve no recourse.”
“I’m serious.” She smiled just a little. After everything she’d seen today, she didn’t exactly think he was lying, but knowing how far her threshold would get her might be useful in the future. “I want to see if it works.”
* * * *
Eli cringed inwardly. Did she have to include the butt scratch? “I’ll have you know this is the most inane thing I have ever done.” He stepped inside. The burning started in his legs, and to stop it he started to move his feet, trying to recall what the Charleston even looked like. He’d never been a dancer. His tongue burned. He stuck it out. His throat tingled. With a grimace, he made his monkey noises as quietly as possible, muttering through them. “Damn it! Did you have–ooh, ooh, ah, ah!– to require–aie, aie!–the butt scratch?”
Samantha was staring at him with comically wide eyes, but muttered, “Duh. Go on.”
“I could still–ooh, ooh!–hurt you doing this.”
“That’s part of the test,” she said, crossing her arms.
His hand felt as if it were in a white-hot fire, and finally he hissed and gave in, madly scratching the crack of his ass as he jumped around with his tongue out. By the time he finally felt the urge to jump out of the room, Samantha was bent over laughing. He adjusted his shirt and grunted. “Glad you’re feeling better.”
“That was the best thing ever.” She cackled, slapping her knee. “Okay, okay.” It occurred to him she wasn’t going to make this easy. “While your intentions are pure, you are welcome in my home.” She nodded. “Should do it.”
Eli frowned. Could he enter on those grounds? Honestly, he wasn’t sure what his intentions regarding her were any more. If he entered, and the protections tossed him out, would he ever be able to recover the trust he’d gained? He grimaced. “I’m not certain that’s going to work.”
“So you are out to get me?” She asked softly.
He sighed. “It’s part of the long story. Technically, I’m ordered to have very bad intentions toward you.”
“Your orders and your intentions are separate. What do you want?”
What in the world did he want? Going back to his quiet time of offering something less hellish than life didn’t seem to be an option any more. “I want to tell you what’s going on so I can figure out what’s going on.”
She shrugged. “Try. Your intentions sound pure, but it’ll be good to know how far those words get me, anyway.”
He took a breath, frowning. She had already folded this into her worldview. With a small grimace, he stepped forward, nearly winced in expectation. But the burning pain never came, and he sighed.
Samantha rose, nodding.