PANDORA

by Rebecca Hamilton

“Six months after I started work at the mansion, a group of men visited my home.” Patricia goes back to her nails. “They told me about the genie and offered a substantial amount of money in return for a couple of vials.”

  My head lolls back on the couch, and I groan. “Okay, I know that one won't work. There needs to be a master bond.”

  “They were doctors, scientists, researchers. They had heard about the vault, somehow. They were curious.” Patricia stares at me. “They wanted to see what . . . ”

  “I am,” I say for her, because I know exactly what she's talking about now. Patricia and I might as well be married. “They want to know what I am.”

  She nods. “Normally, I wouldn't violate a job like that, but I had seen so many terrible things at the mansion. If I turned Karl in, he would come after me. I thought if I snuck out the DNA, something good might come of my horrible contract there. So, one night after fixing up a particularly . . . unhealthy . . . hostage, I grabbed three vials from the vault and stuffed them in my pocket. I dropped one, so I cleaned it up and disposed of it.

  “Karl caught me on the way out.” She sighs, sounding exhausted. “We fought, but he managed to pry the vials from me. Of course, he didn't know I had broken one, and I didn't tell him. He thought it was already out of the mansion.”

  I stare at her, but she continues to avoid me. “I still don't get why I wasn't sent to kill you.”

  “He has no idea where that vial is. What research has been done. What reports have been written.” She shakes her head. “I think he fears if we start turning up dead, someone will blow it all open. So he's looking to discredit us instead. I mean, how hard would it be to make researchers claiming the jinn are alive today look off their rocker?”

  “Did they find anything?” I turn my attention to my cup of water, still clutched in my hand and resting on my knee. For some reason, I can't look up as I ask, “Is the genie DNA different?”

  “There are no reports. No tests. They never got a hold of the DNA. I broke one vial by accident before Karl discovered what I was doing, and then he confiscated the other two. He kicked me out of the mansion. I was terrified for the next months, trying to figure out what to do.” She inhales a deep breath. “Then ER patients began accusing me of malpractice, one case after another, and my hospital did nothing to defend me. The records had clearly been altered.

  “It didn't take long for me to realize someone was screwing with me. Eventually I had to face the board, but what was I supposed to say? That a millionaire in the desert is framing me because he doesn't want anyone to know he has a jinn? They wound up revoking my license, and I ran here to Virginia. Looks like he finally paid up his end of the deal with them.”

  “He goes to great lengths to protect the incompetent pet,” I say.

  I'm just bitter now.

  “I don't see the point.” Silvia flutters her eyes. “Why do they care what his DNA looks like?”

  I frown, mulling over the situation.

  “It's not so much about why they care, but who?” I look up at Patricia again. “Who was bribing you to steal from the vault?”

  Patricia tilts her head, studying me at length. I get it. I look human. And an apparently un-intimidating one at that.

  “I'd never heard of him before. His name is Phil Ballantyne.”

  I jerk forward, nearly spilling the glass of water. “Speech conference Phil?”

  Patrica scowls. Then she looks like someone pulled a plug and all her color is swirling down the drain. She must have figured out Phil and I had our rendezvous.

  “Yeah, I don't think Karl is as scared as you think he is,” I say.

  “Did you kill him?” Silvia sounds a little too excited by the prospect. “Which assignment was that?”

  I hold up my hand. “It doesn't matter, Silv.”

  The room grows silent. We all just stare at each other.

  Finally, I set the glass of water on the end table and pull to my feet. “I think we should get going.”

  Silvia is at my side in an instant.

  Patricia stares up at me, awe and fear vying for her expression.

  “Good luck.” I try to smile.

  She nods, but we both know that when Karl sends me for her, I will snap her neck.

  Chapter 8

  Silvia lights a cigarette, takes a puff, then taps ashes out the car window. “I don't understand something.”

  I focus on the road ahead. “Why your dad couldn't afford a lock for the vault?”

  “Hmm. No.” She takes another puff. “I don't understand why we're going to Greensboro. I checked the map. It's south, and we should be going west.”

  “Congrats on learning how to use your phone. We're flying back to Phoenix.”

  She turns in her seat, arm out the window. “I don't fly, Dim.”

  “I don't dump dead kittens on the side of the road, either, Silv. We're both doing new things on this trip.”

  She glares at me, but I pretend to ignore her.

  Eventually, she flicks her cigarette out the window and settles back into her seat. “I want a soda.”

  I glance at the dash clock and do a quick calculation. “We have fourteen hours before our flight boards, and we're heading into Greensboro now. We'll stop at the first gas station.”

  She doesn't reply, but lights up again.

  Greensboro is another green and clear place, like Danville. Just much larger.

  I pull into a convenience store parking lot. “Get me a Mountain Dew.”

  She nods and slides out of the car. I watch as she trots into the store, then I lean back in my seat and close my eyes.

  My phone vibrates, and I pull it out of my pocket to read the text message.

  I want to move to Italy.

  I stare at the message, trying to decipher if Syd is joking, serious, or just trying to get a reaction. I'll bite.

  I text, You won't miss me?

  She replies, You could come with me. I hear the Mafia is hiring.

  I grin. Working for the mob would be better than my current gig, and I've seen The Godfather and all of The Sopranos.

  I type, I have a better idea. Stay put, and we'll talk about it over wine tomorrow evening.

  In a few minutes, she replies, You're coming home?

  Yes, flight leaves in the morning.

  She replies, I'll wait for you then, Dionysus.

  Who the hell is this Dionysus? I do a quick search on my phone, then grin. Dionysus. Greek god of wine. I'm pretty sure there were cooler gods, but I'll take it.

  I put my phone down and lean back to close my eyes again. Syd is waiting for me at home. I can't imagine a better feeling. It lulls me into sleep.

  I jar awake, grabbing the wheel. Then I realize I'm still parked. Silvia isn't back yet.

  “What the frack?” I grumble, stepping out of the car.

  She is going to be the death of me, sooner or later.

  I rub my hand over my face as I head into the convenience store. The door chimes my entrance, and I gaze over the room.

  No Silvia.

  I stab her name on my phone contact list and scowl as I listen to the rings.

  She picks up on the fifth. “Go away, Dim.”

  “What the hell are you doing?” I sound angry, because I am.

  “I'm not flying,” she says with that tone reserved for the Walkers.

  “Where are you?”

  She hangs up.

  I stare down at my phone, then growl and storm back out to my car. If I know Silvia, she's heading west with some vague notion that she will, eventually, wind up in Phoenix.

  I am correct. She's three blocks away, strolling like her destination is a corner cafe.

  Karl should have left her to the coyotes.

  I slow the car to follow next to her and roll down the window. “You know maps are to scale, right?”

  “Shut up, Dimitri.”

  “So you gonna rent a car and drive back to Phoenix?”

  She shrugs and keeps walking.


  “Get in.” I take a glance at my surroundings. “Last warning.”

  She juts her chin and doesn't slow as she steps into the crosswalk.

  I swing the car around, burst out, and have her down and shackled in the backseat before her scream even finishes. She chokes in surprise.

  I slide into the car, slamming the door shut, and hit the gas.

  “Let me out of these!” She beats her fists against the back of the driver seat.

  “Not a chance. I don't care so much about bringing you home in one piece, but your dad probably does.”

  She says with the edge of a growl, “That's all you ever care about.”

  “That's all I'm allowed to care about.” I tap my finger to my temple. “He's a very demanding boss.”

  She huffs and throws herself back into the seat. “I know he is, but you always take it out on me. None of this is my fault.”

  “That's a typical—” I catch myself and close my mouth. Maybe it is a typical thing for a Walker to say, but it might also be true. At least this time. Silvia didn't have any more say being born into the master bond than I did getting the less coveted role. Neither of us did anything, and that is the whole problem. I sigh. “No, this wasn't your doing, but you could acknowledge you were dealt the better cards.”

  She remains silent. I glance at her in the rear view mirror. She's sulking, but I hope, at least for a minute, she's trying to wrap her brain around what I'm telling her.

  At length, I say, “You've made it loud and clear I will still be property. I get it. I'm just asking for you to stop acting like you earned this, because you didn't. We both were born into a weird situation, and you got the better deal. You don't have to pretend to regret it. Just don't pretend like you're entitled to it.”

  We reach the airport. I find a secluded place to unlock her shackles before parking. Inside the terminal, I print the tickets, check our luggage, and lead her to our gate. The whole time, she remains quiet, but there's a strange look on her face. I think it's humility.

  ***

  For the first thirty minutes on the plane, Silvia acts like a bird hiding from a cat. Then she nestles down and flips through the Sky Mall magazine.

  I bump her elbow. “There's an alarm clock in there you need.”

  “You're dumb,” she says.

  “Coming from the girl I had to shackle to get on a plane.”

  I have so many more comments, but now is not the time. The last thing I need is for her to make a scene. So we won't talk about the bathroom horror show.

  She slants a glare at me, then turns a page.

  I settle back in my seat and close my eyes. Then I realize I'm an idiot. I booked coach.

  God dammit.

  At least Silvia is too ignorant to notice. Like I want to hear that complaint for the next six hours.

  Six hours. Then I'll be back in Phoenix. Back with Syd.

  I don't know if this trip was even worth the effort. In the end, all I really learned was that Karl takes his genie secret pretty damn serious, and Silvia should never have any pets, ever. Not even a fish. She would probably find a way to drown that too.

  As we claim our luggage in Phoenix and head out to find a taxi, I contemplate what Patricia Kerr had said. Her story explains the charity donation and offing Phil Ballantyne, but I still don't know what the rest of the back-to-back wishes have to do with anything.

  ***

  Thankfully, my Accord is still in my carport. I return Silvia to the mansion by evening and text Syd as soon as I'm on the road back to Phoenix.

  In town, tired as hell, but I'll be home in a couple of hours.

  Syd doesn't reply. I figure I'll shower and sleep, then try again in the morning.

  That plan goes out the window when I near my house and see a black and red Audi claiming the carport.

  Syd is sitting on my porch in a long, off the shoulder shirt and black pants. I'm not sure there's a hotter sight in the world. Then she looks up and beams like she's been waiting all week for my return. Somehow, that takes everything up a notch.

  There's no way I'm sleeping until I am reacquainted with her, inside and out.

  She crosses the lawn as I step out of the car. “You sure that was only a week?”

  I wrap her in a tight hug and lift her up, catching her mouth with mine. She sinks into me. I never want to leave town without her again.

  As if homing in on the thought, she breaks apart and meets my gaze. “Run away with me. Please.”

  I stare at her. Circuits overload. Something inside snaps. I can't reply. I can't really do anything.

  The hope fades from her face. She looks away, her cheeks flushed. I want to tell her the issue is me, that I'm trapped here. But I already feel the figurative dagger wedging in the top of my head.

  Can't tell her.

  Won't tell her.

  The developing pain recedes.

  I follow her to the porch and unlock the door. She plucks up her purse from the steps, and we head straight to my bedroom without even exchanging a glance. I drop my bag inside the door and sit on the edge of the mattress. She's on my lap, facing me, before I blink.

  “I missed you, Dim.” She brings me in for a kiss that awakens every part of me. And I do mean every.

  I slide my arms around her shoulders and pull her toward me as I lie back on the bed. Our mouths kind of meld together, and I'm not sure whose tongue is doing what, but it's all freakin' fantastic.

  She tries to pull away, but I grin and take her mouth again. Any resistance gives.

  I don't know when Syd became mine. I'm not even entirely sure how that development happened, but it's forever. There is no other possibility. At least, not one I'm willing to consider right now.

  She pushes herself up, and I let go. She's straddling my stomach. I can't decide if I want her to stay in this position or if I should flip her to the bed and ravish her body.

  She pulls her shirt up over her head, revealing a black bra.

  I tug the front of it a little. “That needs to do a vanishing act.”

  With a flurry of her fingers, it does. “Ta-da!”

  “Hey, I got a trick for you.” My hands find their place on her hips. “I can take a rabbit out of your hat, and put it back in, and take it back out . . . ”

  She grins, then tips her head back and arches her breasts out. She is so smooth and curvy and beautiful.

  My goddamn rockstar.

  I rub my hands over her nipples, eliciting soft moans from her, and trail my fingers down her stomach to the waist of her pants.

  She straightens, lifting one leg over me and sits on her knees on the mattress. I tuck my hands behind my head and watch as she works off the rest of her clothes. The best thing about Syd's body is the fact it's mine. The thought of sharing her does something to my brain not too unlike the hum.

  She crawls over me, naked and gorgeous, and massages me through my jeans. My eyes close. I want to urge her to bypass all this and get to rockin' but god damn. I missed the attention.

  She undoes the button and zipper, but like the tease she is, she goes straight to taking off my shirt instead of where I want her to focus. The warmth of her breasts brushing my side and chest sends me into overdrive.

  I yank off the rest of my clothes. Then I pick her up as I stand and push her back against the wall. She gives a surprised gasp. Her legs wrap around my waist. Her fingers dig into my back as I slide inside. She tenses like she thinks I'm going to drop her. I've got her wedged between me and the wall, though. She isn't going anywhere.

  After a minute, she relaxes into the thrusting. Her head lulls forward and rests on top of mine. She grows wetter and warmer.

  I want to bang her until one of us is unconscious.

  Her grip on me tightens, her body clenching in all sorts of places. I lean against her, struggling to hold her up as I finish deep inside her.

  Then I turn and place her back on the bed, her legs draped over the edge. I kneel between her thighs and kiss down her
stomach until the twinges dissipate. Her fingers slide through my hair then trail over the back of my neck. A pleasant chill winds down my spine.

  With a solid kiss on her belly button, I raise to my feet then scoot her up the bed a little as I crawl over her. My mouth takes her neck, her jaw, her breasts. I want to taste every part of her.

  I nestle between her legs. She wraps around my waist again and rocks, slow and steady.

  My lips linger over hers, and I whisper, “I'm not done with you yet.”

  She smirks and grinds deeper.

  I take her again on the bed. Despite the exhaustion, my body is raging to be a part of hers. She cries into my neck, and I revel in the feel of her shuddering and gasping against me.

  We kiss until calm takes over. Then I pull her close, and we nestle together in silence. I like that we don't have to talk about anything. We can just be.

  I fade in and out of sleep, aware of her deep breathing and the way we fit together. And it's pretty damn awesome.

  After a moment, Syd lifts her head. “Hey, where's my apple?”

  I smile and use my hand to press her back to my shoulder. We are going to lie here forever.

  She props onto her elbows. “Dimitri. Where's the apple?”

  I glance at her, my eyes heavy. “It was a really . . . chaotic . . . trip. I forgot it.”

  “You forgot it?” Her voice is sharp.

  Sharp enough I open my eyes again. She is scowling, lines in her neck tense.

  “Syd, it really was a crazy trip. I'm sorry.”

  She scrambles off the bed.

  I squint, mind groggy. “Are you . . . getting dressed?”

  “No, Dimitri,” she says with a jab of anger. “I'm leaving.”

  I sit, mind spinning. What the hell happened?

  She turns to me, fully clothed. “Screw you.”

  Then she's out the bedroom door, slamming it behind her.

  I pull on pants and stumble after her. “Syd, wait! What's going on?”

  We come to a halt in the living room. She stands by the front door, her eyes and nose red from fighting back tears.

  I try to understand what I missed, but I feel like I didn't get the memo. “What I do?”

  “Nothing.” She yanks open the front door.

  There is no way this is happening. Just minutes ago, we were content. More than content—happy.