Pandora: An Urban Fantasy Anthology

by Phaedra Weldon

  I looked into his eyes and into his face. I could see him now and he looked like…

  Ren.

  "Ah-ha! I was right. There is no contract, which means that boy is your vessel!" Abbadon lifted herself up on her wisps of hair. It was the most horrific thing I'd ever seen. "I should have sensed you! Known that damn Hunter would protect you inside a human!"

  "Idiot!" the Ren Look-a-like said as he faced the morphing Abbadon. Yeah, she was looking more like a spider every second. "You know nothing about me. Or my family."

  "Your abdication gave way for my rule," she laughed. "I should thank you. But for now, I'm going to destroy the last of the Cavanaugh Hunters!"

  The Ren Look-a-like ducked a whip of black mist as he pulled his hands from his pockets. He rolled and came up next to me, his right hand out. "Make the pact! Accept!"

  "I don't—"

  "I'll explain everything to you, but if you don't accept it now, none of us are going to survive!"

  The big nasty Abbadon spider ran up the wall and spun a web to cover the gap between the buildings. My thought was she intended on trapping us in here, inside this tomb, and like a spider…

  "Yes, she'll feed on us," the Ren Look-a-like finished for me. "Please, Tay. You can make more of your life. You can make more of mine. And I don't particularly want to die right now."

  Neither did I. I glanced at the still Ren beside me and slipped my hand in the Look-a-like's. "I accept."

  Things got a little fuzzy for a few seconds after that. His hand disappeared and in its place was the handle of the sword. I held it out in front of me and it wasn't…

  It wasn't heavy at all.

  I stood up, guided by unseen hands and thrust the sword in the air. "Come and fight me, bitch of the night!"

  Okay…that was totally not me.

  It was me. Just relax and learn, Princess.

  That was Ren's voice in my mind, but it wasn't his voice.

  Abbadon screamed as she came straight down at me just like a spider would on a single thread of silk, only in this case, it was smoke. I turned and ran to the back of the alley and then up on the side of the wall. My body felt lighter than air—no it felt like air—as I turned and twisted as I brought the blade around and sliced through the strand of shadows.

  Abbadon fell the rest of the way and I landed on top of her now spider-like sectional body. My boots sunk into her gushy middle as I spun the blade like a boss and thrust the point down into her. She screamed again, and something very hot and very sticky shot out of her. I yanked the blade out, jumped up, and somersaulted in the air before landing close to Ren.

  She screamed and shrunk…and shrunk…and continued to shrink until she was little more than actual spider size. I raised my boot and stomped her flat. Abbadon gave out a tiny squeak.

  Seconds after that, the sword vanished. I went down as my knees gave, and warm hands caught me from behind under my arms. Those same strong hands came up behind my knees and picked me up off my feet. I felt light-headed and woozy but I also felt…

  Good.

  "Feels nice to accomplish something, doesn't it? To have a purpose?"

  I looked into his face and this time I saw the differences between he and Ren. His face was longer, and there were the red eyes. "You're…a demon."

  "Yes." He set me down beside Ren and knelt with me. When he bowed his head to me I blushed. "I am November Night, chevalier to the Heir of November."

  So this was what was meant by a Chevalier. "So…you're a sword."

  "Yes."

  "And you were the sword in my hand, the one back in that crypt."

  "Yes," he frowned and I noticed streaks of white in his otherwise grayish hair. "Are the questions going to continue like this?"

  "Yes." I rubbed my face. That's when I saw the mark. A silverish triskelion on the back of my hand. When I turned my hand, it gleamed.

  November held up his hand and I saw an identical mark. "This is the sign of our covenant. Though a lot of them call it a Contract. I help you slay demons."

  "But you're…a demon."

  This time he narrowed his eyes at me and touched my temple. "Did you hit your head and I didn't see? Because you keep asking me questions I've already answered."

  "No, it's just that…you were Contracted with my grandmother."

  He nodded.

  "So you're a demon who slays demons. Isn't that kind of…weird?"

  "I have my reasons. And all of them know of them. You will too, when the time is right." He moved past me and I smelled cinnamon again. He put his hand on Ren's neck. "I have to return. I'm afraid I can't be gone from this body for very long, yet. But that will lengthen in time."

  "Wait…" I put my hand on his wrist. His intense red eyes looked into mine. "So…are you and Ren the same person?"

  "Ren Bovem Cavanaugh is me. And I am he. But we weren't always like this. And that, my new mistress, is a story for another time. Suffice it to say, the Heir of November has returned." He leaned in and pressed a kiss against my lips. He tasted of cinnamon and vanilla.

  And then he was gone.

  So were Abbadon and the web, and the sky was clearing overhead. The rain was gone and the evening…starry. I was pretty sure we weren't on those Darker Streets anymore.

  Ren stirred and pushed himself into a sitting position. He had a nasty bruise on his cheek and dark circles under his eyes. "Oh…shit…I'd forgotten what that was like," he smiled at me. "Everything work out okay?"

  I hit him again. "You jerk! You knew everything!"

  He put his hand where I punched him. "Ow…of course I did. But I couldn't tell you. You had to want this, Tay. No one can force it on you."

  "So why didn't you…he…one of you…do something in that crypt? Was that what they were all waiting for? November to appear in the flesh?"

  He nodded. "But Mom didn't want your experience to be as…unwelcome as her own. She wanted your meeting with November to be personal."

  "She wasn't really your mother, was she?"

  "She was. She created me for November. I have been his vessel for over three hundred years. And I will be until his penance is complete."

  "He mentioned that. What penance? What did he do?"

  Ren smiled, then winced before he touched his bruised cheek. "That's a story for another time."

  "That's what he said."

  "We think alike."

  "Jerk."

  "Princess."

  Mirror Mirror

  An old war between Vampires and Elves leads to an unlikely pairing. Together, they can reveal the truth…

  Present Day Chicago

  "Siobhan, there's a dead body on the floor of your shop."

  She knitted her eyebrows together in concentration. This wasn't the best way to start a Saturday night—especially after just waking from the day.

  Siobhan O'Donnell stood behind the counter of her mirror store, a specialty shop situated in Chicago's Enchantment Place center. Specialty because her mirrors didn't work the same way a conventional mirror would—these mirrors used built in cameras to project a vampire's image on a sheet of crystal.

  "It's been drained of blood."

  She pulled the right side of her mouth into a smirk.

  "You got something you want to tell me?"

  With a slow nod, she looked up into the exotic face of Captain Oberon Geld, one of Chicago's finest detectives and the former King to the Elven Seleighe Court—as well as her ex-partner and one-time lover.

  But not anymore. On both counts.

  "Ron," she said, using the nickname he hated most, just because he hated it. "I'm going to have to agree with you. There's a dead body on the floor drained of blood."

  The tall elf opened his mouth to speak. Siobhan held up her index finger. "But I didn't do it."

  "You do realize how this looks, don't you?"

  She arched her eyebrows at him and gave him a look that said, "Duh."

  Her last job—and life change—had been on the other side of the law
. As a detective for the Chicago police, she'd been one of the best at investigating unconventional conventional homicides—crimes involving non-humans. Vampires did make good cops, as did the older, Seleighe Court Elves like Oberon. Both races were formidable, strong, intelligent, and long-lived. Both were attractive and sensuous in their own right, and both races possessed an irresistible sex appeal for mortals.

  And they could both kill—violently.

  Their differences were less obvious. A vampire held brute strength and the ability to shift to a second form, but an elf could wield magic—if he or she were properly trained. A vampire and an elf were a perfect team.

  The two races shared disadvantages as well. Vampires couldn't move around in the daylight, and the elves could. But an elf couldn't touch cold iron without suffering excruciating pain and burned flesh. Cold iron was the elf's sunlight, and vice versa.

  Oberon crossed his arms and nodded toward her. He was impeccably dressed as always, in a suit with his tie loosened and his jacket unbuttoned. His white-blond hair was cut short in a modern style, so unlike the long braided locks he once wore as King of the Seleighe.

  He didn't look any happier to see her now than the last time they'd met. Nor did she care for the angry glint in his bright amber eyes and their cat-like pupils. His skin was flawless, as was her own. And he was as beautiful now as he was the first time the two of them had touched.

  "Siobhan…" he started in that old, familiar patronizing tone. He held up the slip of paper the officers had found on the dead body. "What does this mean?"

  "Oberon, how can I tell you when I haven't even been allowed to see it? As I have explained a dozen times now, I came down here after rising to find a dead woman in the middle of my shop. I called the police right away—and your goons have kept me here for eight hours."

  He handed the paper to her and Siobhan opened it. In black marker someone had written YOU ARE IN DANGER. She didn't recognize the handwriting.

  "Who is this from? What are you in danger from?"

  She hoped to hide her growing alarm at the note's message behind her terse manner. "How the hell am I supposed to know? And besides, is the message for me or for this dead woman?" She frowned at the body. "I'd say it was meant for her—albeit a bit late. I've been asleep all day."

  "And the district attorney's going to say you got up and fed on some prostitute you found breaking into your shop."

  "P'sshhh," Siobhan moved away from Oberon to the body sprawled on her floor. She knew who it was—Melissa Broden, bartender and part-time donor over at Chimeras, the local vamp bar. The victim being a donor was the reason for Oberon's prostitution comment; he'd always hated to see humans selling themselves to the vampires as boxed lunches.

  Siobhan knelt beside Melissa and noticed the marks on her neck. Very round and very visible. There was little blood. She leaned in closer, careful not to touch. She was no longer a cop, nor did she have any gloves on. "Oberon," she said in a firm voice. Several of the officers nearby ceased their conversations. "This wasn't a vampire killing."

  He moved closer and knelt down to her right. "Not a vampire?"

  "No," she nodded to the wound. "Too perfect. Too round. Vampire teeth were human once—" she looked at him with an arched brow. "No set of vampire bites are the same."

  Oberon shook his head. "So how do you explain the blood loss?"

  "Blood can be drained from a body in many ways," Siobhan sniffed. "I'd say this one was with magic. We don't completely drain a body, despite what popular fiction and movies perpetrate."

  "That's ridiculous," he stood. "There's no legal spell to remove blood from a human. That would be delving into dark magic, which is strictly forbidden, same as a vampire drinking from an elf."

  "Well, that's just suicide," she stood up beside him. Elven blood was poison to vampires, causing them to burn up from the inside out. An elf could drink a vampire's blood with no other consequence than a trip to the hospital and a bad case of the runs.

  She shook her head as she gazed down at the body. "I'd still look into magic. There's no instant punishment for using dark magic, Ron. Nor is there any way to prove the spell caster's identity. Magic is strictly autonomous."

  "Siobhan," he sighed. "I'm afraid you're going to have to do better than this. The DA's not going to blame magic. If she did, she'd incite the wrath of witches, mages, magicians, elves and the Goddess knows who or what else living in this world."

  "Political suppression?" Siobhan narrowed her eyes. "What's going on, Oberon? Why are you so quick to count me as a suspect? You know I'm right. This wasn't done by a vampire."

  When he didn't speak but looked away, she had her answer. "This isn't the first death."

  Oberon didn't respond.

  She moved to stand in front of him and searched his beautiful face. "Why don't you tell me?"

  "Whether you like it or not, Siobhan, you're not a cop. I don't report to you. Not anymore."

  "What is wrong with you?" But she knew that look. Had seen it many times. "You fought with Abyssinian again." The mention of Oberon's UnSeleighe brother caused the vein in his neck to pulse.

  The two had never gotten along—though Siobhan found the elven king's brother…amusing. Actually, he was a lot of fun, where Oberon was stiff and unmoving.

  "Damned vigilante." He turned a mask of calm toward her. "I made sure he stays out of trouble."

  "You did what?" Come to think of it, she hadn't seen Abyssinian in nearly a week. Which wasn't like him—the UnSeleighe always stopped by. A few of her clientele tended to grab coffee at the local Starbucks and hang out, just to catch a glimpse of him. "What did you do to him?"

  But Oberon wasn't going to tell her. "Don't worry about Aby. You're hungry. Maybe I can get you something at the station. We do have a blood vender there."

  "No thanks. You know my stomach can't handle pre-packaged food."

  The elf winced. "Siobhan…you have to drink. It seems I'm forever telling you that."

  And it was true. Others of her kind had learned to take only what they needed from several people a night. And it suited them. But she'd never been able to do that because each drink gave a taste of her donor's life. And sometimes all the lives got jumbled up in her head if she drank from more than one a night.

  Not to mention the drama to her stomach when she woke up the next evening. The blood banks were a fine substitute, all privately owned and operated for the sole purpose of keeping vampires docile. Each bank received its blood through well-paid donors. Then it was screened (even vampires get diseases) and sent out to distribution banks all over the city.

  It was the anticoagulants they put in the blood these days that made her retch for a week.

  A siren blared, and the two of them glanced to their left to see the icebox arrive outside. In a few seconds several white-coated men would appear, give last rites over the body, and then sever the head to keep the victim from returning as a ghoul.

  As they moved away from the body, Siobhan filled him in on what she knew about the victim. Female, in her late twenties, had come in to buy one of her mirrors. One of the higher end models with the AV options.

  "AV option?"

  She sighed. Oberon held no real desire to learn the technology of the present. When they were lovers, he still couldn't turn a computer on. "Audio visual option. They all have cameras in them that project onto the crystal surfaces." She was proud of her mirrors, a project she'd started nearly twenty years ago when she was finally tired of not knowing what she looked like. "Some actually save .mov files."

  "Recordings?"

  "Uh-huh. Oberon, I didn't kill that child. You all but admitted you know this is true when you noticed I hadn't drank tonight. And given a few days and a forensic examination of the body, I can prove it."

  The white-coated men moved in through the front door. Everyone turned to watch, their conversations quieted. "Well, as for a forensic examination, that's not going to happen." Oberon watched the white suits usher non-essential pe
rsonnel out.

  "Well, that's convenient, isn't it?" said a male voice.

  Siobhan and Oberon turned to their left.

  Abyssinian lounged in the doorway. Dressed in his usual leather pants and jacket, his brilliant red hair in contrast to his pale skin, the UnSeleighe brought a bit of color to the room. Siobhan knew the rings on Aby's fingers cloaked a katana. She noticed a white bandage wrapped around his right wrist.

  "How did you—" Oberon started, then glanced at Siobhan. "You stay the hell out of this, Aby."

  But his brother only made tsk-tsk noises as he moved to join them. He'd cut his hair recently, ridding himself of his familiar long braid. Where Oberon's eyes were amber, Abyssinian's were indigo. She and Aby had become friends since she left the force. She didn't exactly support vigilantes, per se, but she did think Abyssinian was a just and fair man. "Why don't you tell her about the missing UnSeleighe, Ron."

  "Don't call me that."

  But Abyssinian wasn't going to stop. He turned his bright, intense gaze on Siobhan. "Didn't mention the fourteen or so missing UnSeleighe, did he? Vanished. Gone," he snapped his fingers as if he'd just remembered something. "Oh, he's concerned for the dead humans, as well as for the vampires or Seleighe—but not for the UnSeleighe people."

  "You're not my concern."

  Abyssinian looked down at the body. He glanced at Siobhan. "He thinks you did this?"

  "It's what it looks like." Oberon balled his hands into fists.

  "Like I said," Abyssinian folded his arms over his chest. "Convenient."

  "Nobody asked you." Oberon rounded on his brother again.

  "You really think I'm stupid enough to leave my food wrapper in my own business?" It was a crass statement, and her voice had risen some with her frustration. She especially detested the look of tolerance on Oberon's face. His mask of superiority really chapped her ass sometimes.

  "No, Siobhan. I don't. But my boss is going to come down on me if I don't make an arrest in twenty-four hours." He glanced back to the store where they were shuttling uniformed policemen out of the shop.