Pandora's Ring. Kaitlin R. Branch
but I could wheedle him into checking in on you.”
“No, Daddy, no problem. It was just one email. Maybe it was the wrong address.” She fiddled with her ring, drawing the pad of her thumb along the studded edge. “Anyway, you having fun in…are you still in Milan?”
“Nope! Greece, now, It’s an amazing place, sweetheart. Maybe I’ll take you boating here for your birthday.” He laughed.
“Daddy…” Samantha chuckled. She hated boats. Seasickness never failed to strike.
They talked for another hour. By the end, with the help of her father’s cheerful tone, Samantha had convinced herself there was no need to mention her mother had come up. It wasn’t that important, and besides, he’d sounded cheerful. She didn’t want to mess it up by mentioning her mother. He always said she was the love of his life.
“Time for a walk,” she decided, and let herself out into the afternoon sunlight. It was a warm day, and she rambled under the fragrant trees to the park. Three days, and Eli hadn’t showed up again. What the hell did the guy want anyway? Had he just been a profiteer who decided she was too much trouble, too smart?
No, he didn’t feel that way. She couldn’t shake the feeling he was something more, something bigger. Damn, he had a pretty face too. She could use his body for a few dirty sessions with herself. It was a pity he was probably long gone.
She bought an ice cream and sat on a bench to eat it, next to a blond bombshell in a short skirt. Whew. I could be jealous of those legs, she thought as she idly took a lick, noting the perfectly coiffed 20s hairstyle with admiration. The woman looked like a magazine cover.
As Samantha tried to study the woman on the other side of her seat without blatantly staring, a crow lazily flapped in to settle on the back of the bench between them. Samantha nearly choked in the surprise. “Damn,” she said, watching the crow. She broke off a piece of her ice cream cone, holding it up to the bird. “Didn’t know the crows around here were so tame.”
The bird eyed her. The woman slowly turned her head to stare at Samantha with dark, swirling eyes.
Suddenly, it occurred to her that something was very wrong. The park had gone quiet, like a wall had been thrown up between the bench and the rest of the world. There was a smell on the air like rotting meat. “S-Sorry…” she stammered. “Is it actually your pet?”
The silence became oppressive. The woman’s eyes sparked red and Samantha’s breath caught. It was a trick of the light. It had to be. The woman smiled slowly. As she did, her skin seemed to pale, until it was sheet white. “You could say that.” The woman raised a hand, batting aside Samantha’s still outstretched arm with inch long claws which looked to be dipped in blood.
A ringing panic rose in Samantha’s ears as the crow ruffled its feathers, bending in at the same time as the woman. “I’ve got to go…”
“Do you?” The woman asked. “Oh, no. Tell me how you saw my pet, first.”
Samantha shook her head. The crow was sitting at the most two feet from her face. If it spread its wings, her nose would get tickled. She’d have to be completely blind not to see it. “I’m sorry…I don’t know. Really.” The woman’s gaze was hypnotic. Why was she pleading? Why wasn’t she up and running? Samantha leaned in close enough for the woman to caress her chin with scarlet nails. Samantha trembled, clenching her hands.
“Is that so?” the blonde purred, “How interesting. Do you know what I am?”
“N-No…”
The woman’s lip quirked. “So you see, but you do not understand.” Her tongue poked out of between her lips, licked them quickly and disappeared. Samantha’s heart pounded, heat on her face and roaring in her ears, like a distant crowd. The woman leaned in, bringing the full power of her gaze to bear on her, and Samantha could barely breathe, her entire body frozen, joint for joint. “What’s your name?”
Samantha didn’t even pause to consider the repercussions. She had to speak. She was compelled. “Samantha Parker.”
“Samantha Parker…” the woman repeated in a purr. Samantha shuddered as the claws pricked at her neck, raising a drop of blood. The woman brought the drop to her lips. She placed the claw in her mouth, keeping Samantha’s gaze. “Daughter of Marie and Donald Parker. Twenty-five years old. Not a virgin, but also not overly experienced with men.” She smirked. “Mainly heterosexual but with bisexual tendencies. Were you eyeing me up?”
Samantha took a gulping breath, trying to stay steady. “No.”
The woman merely raised an eyebrow.
The truth burned at her lips. “Yes.”
“And able to somewhat resist a glamour, as well as see companions.” She chuckled, leg swinging out and beckoning. “Yes. You’re coming home with me, sweetling.”
Samantha rose, but didn’t step forward, clenching her hands again. She didn’t know what was happening, but whatever this woman had planned, she suspected it would be worse than anything Eli might have done. “No, I don’t think so.”
Again, the raised eyebrow. Samantha growled, forcing her hands to move of her will, her might, her thought. With her thumb, she twisted her ring around until it bit into the flesh of her palm.
Awareness flooded her mind, and Samantha whipped her head around to break the hypnotic stare of the pale woman, looking at the crow. It huffed, feathers ruffling out, and then screeched. Down its throat, Samantha saw roiling, impossibly bright fire, as if the bird had swallowed hell itself.
“What are you doing, girl?” the woman demanded as Samantha staggered back, ice cream in a long forgotten puddle underfoot.
“No,” Samantha whispered. “No. Stay away!” She threw her arm over her eyes, willing herself to run away, and the bubble of silence around them shattered. Samantha ran.
“Girl! Girl, where are you going? Be careful,” the woman called after her. Samantha kept running, long past the park, long past her house–what if the woman followed her? The crow could fly–she should keep running, run until she was in the next borough, past the Great Lakes, on the other side of the country even!
But only five blocks from the park her progress was blocked. “Samantha!” The voice was male. It couldn’t be the woman. She didn’t stop, arm still shielding her eyes, hand still clamped so tightly her ring was drawing blood.
“Samantha Parker! Hey.”
She careened into someone’s chest. Strong hands gripped her shoulders. She didn’t stop to think who it could be as she started to strike, still breathless with fear and exertion. The hands shifted, grabbed her wrists, and she struggled even harder. The silence came again. Terrifying, pervading silence. She was alone with whatever caught her, and she screamed.
“No! No, you can’t have me. I won’t go with you.”
“Samantha…” whoever she’d run into breathed, taken aback, surprised, and actually worried.
She blinked, heaving for breath and looking at her captor for the first time.
“Samantha. It’s me. Eli. I’m not going to hurt you, Samantha.”
She recognized him. He looked the same. But now she saw him. His eyes were swirls of black and white, mixing to gray in some places. His skin was stark white. He faintly smelled of death at first, but it faded quickly except to memory. She shook her head as her mind went numb. This must be what it felt like to go mad, she thought. “Stop it,” she whispered. “Stop it.” She tried to pull away, but Eli stayed strong, frowning.
“Samantha, tell me what you see.” His voice kept a calm, assured tone, so different from the woman. “When you look at me, what do you see?”
“White,” she whispered, shaking. “White, and red, and black. Your skin is white. I see you, I see you! What are you?” She half screamed,