Pandora: An Urban Fantasy Anthology Read online

  Pandora

  An Urban Fantasy Anthology

  Phaedra Weldon

  Caldwell Press

  Contents

  Pandora

  Darker Streets

  Mirror Mirror

  The Stars Are fire

  The Revolt Of The Philosophers of Fomalhaut

  The Mer

  Gaze Of Intent

  Back Door Magic

  About the Author

  Pandora

  Good is sometimes dressed in leather…with guy-liner, and wings.

  He had dark hair, pale skin, and a gun held barrel-up as he pressed his ear against the closed door.

  "Uhm…we're closed." I sounded unconvincing. I hadn't locked the door yet, but it was well past six. The consignment shop didn't pull in many customers during peak hours—to see anyone at this hour was rare.

  He held up the hand not holding the gun in a hasty way to tell me to be quiet. If this was a robbery—it was starting out really strange.

  I stood behind the counter—the register drawer open, the day's receipts in my hand. I didn't move. I mean…he had a gun.

  A group of men in uniforms ran past the front window. They didn't give the store a second look. People rarely did.

  He finally moved from the door toward me. He continued to hold the gun pointed up, away from me. He was dressed in a black tee, black leather jacket and jeans. Under the light of the Tiffany Lamp on the counter he appeared handsome. Straight nose, high cheek bones, pointed chin and straight dark eyebrows.

  My gaze lingered on his eyes.

  "You shouldn't leave that out like that," he said in an accent I didn't recognize. He pointed to the open drawer. "Someone will try and steal it."

  I found my voice. "You mean like you?"

  He frowned at me as if I'd suggested the most ridiculous thing. "Me—no. No. I don't want your money."

  I narrowed my eyes at him. "Are you wearing guy liner?"

  "I'm under cover."

  "Oh?" I shoved the receipts into the drawer and closed it with a slam. "Lemme see your badge."

  "I don't have a badge—I told you I'm under cover. I don't want to have any ID on me."

  I crossed my arms over my chest. "Convenient."

  I'm not that brave. Not at all. But he didn't feel like a robber. He didn't feel like a cop either. And I'd met both.

  To my surprise, he flipped the safety on the gun and slipped it into the back of his jeans. I focused on his eyes again. They were outlined with dark, black kohl, but what caught my attention more was their color.

  They were purple.

  Not like Elizabeth Taylor's famous eyes. These were seriously…purple.

  "Are you undercover over at Lotus Blossom?" That was the gay club a few doors down on the corner. I'd always see patrons walking up and down the street on Friday night when I took inventory. It was Thursday.

  His expression looked sour. "No. Look," he put both hands on the counter. He wore finger-less gloves. His nails looked like glass. "I'm looking for something. Something I'm pretty sure is in here."

  "We're closed, or didn't you see the sign?" I nodded to the door where the sign still said open.

  Oh. Right. I hadn't flipped it over yet.

  He looked back at me. "Please. I just need to see if it's here. If it's not, I'm gone. You'll never see me again."

  I sighed. I wanted to go home. And I didn't want to get robbed. Which, I didn't think he was going to do since the money was there and he didn't take it. I mean, he could have shot me dead and made off like a bandit.

  I turned to the computer on the desk and moved the mouse to wake it up. Entering my password I pulled up the inventory search. "What is it? And be as descriptive as you can be."

  "It's a book. A large book. Like an oversized coffee table book. Leather cover. Old." He licked his lips. "And it's got tooling on the front."

  I'd been typing in his descriptions and paused. "What design?"

  He snapped his fingers. "That symbol. The medical one."

  "A caduceus?"

  "Yeah that one."

  If this was a medical book he was going to be disappointed. This store didn't carry any textbooks. Not even a used copy of Gray's Anatomy. This consignment store had some of the wackiest things I'd ever seen in it. A lot of taxidermy—including a large black bear the owner positioned at the front of the store so it was the first thing customers peering inside would see.

  That is, if they would actually look inside.

  I hit enter and sat back. "It might take it a few minutes to compile everything here and in the warehouse."

  His expression fell. "You have a warehouse?"

  "Yes. The back of this store is a warehouse."

  He brightened. "Oh. Good. It was just tough to get here unscathed—I'd hate to know I had to go somewhere else."

  "Yeah," I pursed my lips at him. "So, you wanna tell me who's chasing you?"

  "You really wanna know?"

  I waited a beat. "Yeah. I do."

  He leaned on the counter but kept looking back at the front window. The counter wasn't as visible from this position. Anyone looking in would see the bear first, run second. "They're a hunting party of men associated with a local…business. They're looking for the same book I am."

  "Local business? I didn't recognize their uniforms."

  "Private security."

  "Ah…you stole something."

  "I borrowed it."

  "That's what they all say."

  "I borrowed it, used it, and I put it back. Unfortunately I was caught putting it back, not taking it."

  Was this guy for real? "You were caught returning what you stole? What was it?"

  "A compass."

  "A compass."

  "Yes. It pointed me here."

  I frowned at him. "For what?"

  The computer dinged.

  He smiled and pointed to the computer. "For that."

  I turned. To my surprise, the results showed a jpeg of just the item he described. I sat down in the chair and pulled up the information. "Large book, logged in as reference material nearly…" I whistled. "This thing's been here as long as this store's been in business."

  "How much?"

  "Wow. It says priceless."

  "You're kidding."

  I sat back and pointed at the screen. "See?"

  He moved around the counter and stepped behind it with me. He was lean. And his hair wasn't just dark, it was a blue/black. Almost like a raven's feathers. "What does that mean?"

  "It means it's not for sale. Sorry."

  "Where is it?"

  "Look—" and I hung there, unsure what to call him.

  "Zeke."

  "Zeke," Zeke? Really? "The owners have it slated at non-sale. Which means I can't sell it to you—"

  "I'll give you a million. Cash. Right now."

  I blinked. "You have a mill in cash on you?"

  "Yes."

  He was lying. He'd have to be lugging around a nice size suitcase. "What, you have a check?"

  "No. I have this," he reached inside of his tee shirt and pulled out a cross on a chain. The thing sparkled in the dim light of the store. I had to lean in to get a better look. It was encrusted with diamonds.

  "Is that real?"

  "Very real. And I'll trade you for the book."

  I looked from him to the book and back to him again. "You're crazy. Get out of here. I gotta go home."

  "Miss—"

  "Jump. Pandora Jump."

  "Miss Jump," he reached out and put his hands on my upper arms. "I've got to get hold of that book before they do."

  "They?" Why do delusional people always have a they?

  "The ones f
ollowing me."

  Mmhmm. "Look," and I shrugged out of his grip. "They can't buy it either—"

  "You don't understand. If they discover it's here, they won't offer to buy it, they'll take it."

  I didn't want to believe him, but he looked very sincere. And he looked a little afraid. He was still glancing at the door so I reached under the desk and hit a button. There was an audible snap. "There. The door's locked. Stop worrying."

  "Please Miss Jump. At least can I look at it? I won't try and take it. I put the compass back."

  "So you say." I really didn't want to believe him. I didn't want to trust him. He looked hot. And he looked kinda gay.

  "I'll give you this," and he removed the pendant from his neck. "Just let me see it." He took my hand and set the diamond cross in it.

  It was a heavy piece of jewelry. Weighted with what felt like responsibility. I closed my fingers around it. "Leave the gun here."

  He immediately removed it and set it on the counter. I checked the location of the book—went to the front and flipped the sign—and then lead Zeke through the back and into the warehouse.

  The name warehouse makes it sound like a huge metal building with ceiling high wooden shelves, filled with boxes and pallets of things. And that's just about right. The back building was actually part of the building directly behind the store. The owners bought the opposite store, bricked it up.

  I keyed in the combination and once I had the door open, the lights came on. Zeke walked beside me. It was a strange gait—like someone not used to walking. I looked at him sideways. "You're really a cop?"

  "Yes…but not in the way you think of cop."

  What the hell did that mean? I stopped one row in, turned right and looked up at the sides at the numbers. Once we got to the correct shelf I lead him down the row. The book was in an old lead safe on the floor. I moved the lock to the right, to the left, and then to the right. When it clicked, I opened the door.

  Inside sat the book. It wasn't as large as I sort of imagined it to be. But it was a good size, and heavy. I pulled it out carefully and held it up. Curious, I opened it.

  It was blank.

  After flipping a few pages, I looked at him. His eyes were wide as he beheld it and waited patiently. He didn't seem to be as surprised as me to see it was empty. "Is there supposed to be something in inside?"

  "Yes. May I hold the necklace?"

  I handed it back to him. I don't think I really expected to keep it. I mean…it looked really expensive. And it might have been a fake. He put it back around his neck and held out his hands. "The book?"

  I shrugged and handed it to him. He held it open in one hand and turned the pages with the other. I watched his eyes. They were tracking something, just like someone would if they were reading. But the pages were blank. "Zeke?"

  He smiled and closed it before he held it to his chest. I felt a slight depression of air like a pressure change, and then he handed the book back to me. "I'm always amazed at how easy it is to convert magic into technology. If you ever need me, all you have to do speak the word."

  Riiiight. I held the book and frowned at him. "Zeke—who are you? What's your deal? 'Cause I don't think you're a cop."

  "Maybe. Maybe not. What's with me is the continuation of mankind. Just like you."

  "What?"

  "So what about you?" he countered.

  I wasn't expecting his question. No one ever asked about me. "What do you mean?"

  "You're what—twenty five? Twenty-seven? You have a degree in cryptology. You were approached by two major government establishments, FBI and CIA, right? And yet you work at a consignment store. Why?"

  I stopped in my tracks and luckily he moved around me. I stared at him. "How did you know that?"

  "I'm a cop."

  "That's not going to fly anymore," I pointed at the ground. "You tell me how you know all that about me right now, or I'm calling the police."

  "He knows all of that because he is a crook," came a new voice but with a similar accent, from behind me. "He knows that, because he plans on manipulating you into giving him what isn't his to have."

  I turned to see the same group of men in the same uniforms I'd seen run past the front of the shop. Five men total, all of them tall, broad shouldered, with blond hair and strong features. The one in the middle had the longest hair and the darker uniform. He and his entourage stopped a few feet from us.

  "Get out, Manna," Zeke said in a low voice. "You have no right to be here."

  "I have every right, Ezekiel. More than you," he smiled at me and bowed. "I am Johannes Manna, CEO of the Infinity Corporation. The book he's looking for is our book, and we've been looking for it for a very long time. Ezekiel here only wishes to steal it, just as he stole a compass from us."

  "I put that back!"

  But Manna held up his hands. "We've seen no evidence you put anything back, Ezekiel. You were recorded taking it." He motioned his men and they fanned out around us.

  "Wait a minute," I held out my hands. "Honestly, neither of you belong here. This is private property."

  "Yes it is. My private property."

  I blinked at Mr. Manna. "No…I work for Anna M Senn-ahoj. She owns the consignment shop—"

  "Pandora," Zeke used my first name. He hung his head. "It's the same person. He owns the building." Zeke sighed. "I should have known. You've been leading me here. You used the book as bait."

  "Yes, Ezekiel. Your kind have fallen so hard and so fast, you can no longer see the big picture, can you?" Manna moved closer to Zeke and clasped his hands behind his back. "You. Michael. Gabriel. Even Cassiel. You were all so easy to lure in."

  "They never actually got to the book, did they?" Zeke looked at each of them. He looked at Manna and then at me. "No one like me has ever come to see the book, have they?"

  "This book?" I shook my head. "No. What do you mean by people like you?"

  Manna laughed. "Not even the faithful can see you any longer. Doesn't that cause you to weep, Ezekiel? To know this world no longer believes in Angels?"

  Angels?

  I looked hard at Zeke.

  Ezekiel.

  And as I stared at him something smokey and dark formed behind him. It moved and writhed until it formed colossal, gray wings like those of a dove. They spread out behind him and fluttered.

  "You're…an Angel?" I stammered. I wasn't quite believing what I was seeing. But there he was, unfurling wings at me.

  "The book is a myth, Ezekiel," Manna said. "You've seen it. Touched it. It's empty. It never existed. It was simply something Michael created, a story to give all of you hope in a world where God is dead."

  But Zeke was smiling at me. I was afraid for him, suddenly. I had no idea what was happening or why. "What…what's this book supposed to be?"

  "Pandora's Bane," Zeke said. "Allegedly it was created by her as the cure for all the ills let upon the world by the opening of the Box. Her way of apologizing, making up for what she did."

  "That's not even a real story, that's a myth."

  "Is it?" he smiled at me. "You would call me nothing more than a myth, but here I am. I'm real. He's real," and he looked at Manna. "He hopes to use the cures in this book to amass a fortune, to create genocide. Think of it—to have the cures for cancer, leukemia, AIDs, even the common cold. To selectively use these cures—to heal only those you choose. Michael commanded us to seek and find this book, and destroy it."

  "Destroy it?" I stepped forward. "Cancer killed my parents. My sister has AIDs, and you're holding the very thing that can cure them—and you want to destroy it?"

  "Relax Miss Jump," Manna said. "You saw the book. There's nothing in it. I've had it for over a millennium of years, luring these stupid soldiers of God into my web, destroying them one by one. There is no such book. It's only a myth."

  But I'd seen the way Zeke looked at the pages. Seen the way he'd put his hand on it.

  "How many are left, Ezekiel?"

  "Four."

  "Fou
r strikes, gentlemen. And make sure—"

  Something struck me in the side and I fell back. It wasn't a harsh hit, but more of a push of wind. I covered my face with my arm as I tried to look and see what was happening. Wind kicked up anything that wasn't nailed down, causing a maelstrom of flying papers and dirt.

  Zeke was in the air, his wings creating the wind that knocked Manna's men around.

  "Kill him!"

  I heard the shots even as the ceiling shook. I dove under one of the empty shelves to escape falling pieces of metal. More shots. And then—

  Silence.

  I'd covered my head with my arms. Papers fluttered down as dust floated in the air. The lights above—the ones that hadn't shattered—swung back and forth. But I didn't need that light to see Zeke's body as he lay on his side, unmoving. His wings were spread out at an awkward angle, one of them actually twisted, blood and bone sticking through skin and feathers.

  I yelled his name and scrambled to get out from under the shelf. Manna appeared and stepped in my way. "Ah, Miss Jump. I see you survived. And might I say, congratulations is in order for your help in destroying yet another of God's thorns."

  I moved around him, not really afraid of him at all. Zeke's eyes were open, his chest riddled with bullets. He was bleeding out on the concrete floor. But it didn't matter.

  I'd seen an Angel die.

  One of Manna's men retrieved the book and handed it to him. He took it, sighed, and replaced it in the shelf inside the safe. "There," he stood back once the door was closed again. "That's done. Jack, Rand, and Trydon—clean this up. Remember, a little bit of lemon juice in the water and the body will melt."

  They turned and started undressing Zeke.

  "Miss Jump," Manna said as he approached Zeke and bent over. He reached in around a wing and then pulled his hand out. In it hung the necklace.

  The cross of diamonds.

  "I think this would be a good compensation, don't you?" And he handed it to me. "Just keep it. Keep up the good work," he said and left the warehouse.