IM03 - Pandora's Box (19 page)

“It is not cowardice to protect one’s own,” Connor snarled.

“You’re not protecting your own, you’re hiding behind them,” Nicholas retorted. “You know damn well how to end this, but you won’t. You’re afraid.” He narrowed his eyes and smiled wickedly. “You’re weak.”

Shut up, shut up, shut up… shit!

Connor leapt from the desk. At the same moment, Nicholas pushed me aside. I fell, taking Fallon down with me. Connor landed on top of Nicholas, and they tumbled to ground, each taking turns throwing punches.

Lysander had never told me who was the strongest, vampires or werewolves; from my vantage point, we were pretty evenly matched.

The other two werewolves took positions flanking the fight, Aiden in front of Lysander, and Brady towering over Fallon and me, but they didn’t advance. Strangely enough, neither did Lysander.

I looked to Lysander for answers or directions. I didn’t want to have to fight a werewolf, but if he gave me the signal, I’d do my best with Brady. Lysander shook his head, and held his hand for me to stay.

“You think you werewolves are going to be safe when this thing finishes off all the vampires it’s after?” Nicholas yelled as he threw a wicked right cross that turned Connor’s head so sharply, I thought it would come off.

Connor might have been stunned, but he wasn’t down for the count. “Why should it come after the Olde Town pack?” he replied with a left hook into Nicholas’s stomach.

Nicholas doubled over and groaned. “Because vampires are a part of your pack. And because this thing doesn’t clean up its kills.” He swept Connor’s leg, knocking the wolf off balance for a brief moment, and then threw another punch. As his fist collided with Connor’s torso, he yelled, “If it doesn’t get you, the Acta Sanctorum will.”

“We know how to stay hidden from them.” Connor caught Nicholas’s wrist as he threw another wild punch.

“It won’t stop until it’s ‘gotten all of its blood back.’”

Connor slammed the heel of his palm into Nicholas’s nose. Nicholas’s legs buckled, and he fell to his knees with a yelp. Arms tense, fists ready, I wanted to jump in and help. Something wasn’t right here. Nicholas was a seasoned fighter, and yet he seemed to go down so easily. Was Connor really that much stronger? Again, I looked at Lysander, but he gave no indication that we should get involved.

“Had enough, vampire?” Connor yelled and stood over Nicholas. He panted heavily, and I could hear the racing of his heart.

Nicholas looked up to the wolf. “You know I’m right. Your indifference is tantamount to cowardice.”

Without another word, Connor threw one final punch. Nicholas landed on the floor with a groan and a thud. Connor turned and walked back to his desk, righted his fallen chair, and sat down. He folded his arms in front of him on the desk and stared blankly at the computer screen.

With the violence over, for the moment, I felt it safe to move. I knelt next to Nicholas. He was still conscious, but appeared to be punch drunk.  Blood poured from his ears and nose. His lips were shredded and his fangs stuck out painted in his own blood.

“Good job,” I said as I helped him to his feet.

“I made my point, didn’t I?” he groaned.

“Are you going to be okay?” Fallon whispered to Nicholas.

“I’m not going to eat you, if that’s what you’re asking,” he replied gruffly.

“Wasn’t offering,” she scoffed.

Lysander cleared his throat and addressed Connor again. “You see how important this is to my clan? Help in any form, or at the very least knowledge, is worth fighting for. Will you still deny us?”

Connor rose to his feet. “I stand behind what I said before. The knowledge alone will not be enough.”

“If knowledge is all you can offer, then we must be content with that,” Lysander said. “It is more than we have now.”

“You can’t defeat this thing without considerable help. But I will tell you what I know.” He walked to one of the bookshelves and pulled out a few books that resembled the ancient tomes Lysander used to have.

“All were packs are respectful of their histories. We have to be. Knowledge of our history protects us from repeating terrible mistakes of our ancestors.” He opened one book across his desk and flipped through the pages. “The Pandora’s box was an important device, used to lock away the evil things of the world. The original, as I am sure you know,” he looked to Lysander, “was a jar given to Pandora. I trust you’ve all heard the story.”

“It is standard mythology yes,” Lysander responded. “She was the first woman created and charged with the guardianship of the jar. But as a mortal woman, she was cursed with curiosity. The gods played a cruel joke on her, giving her an item that in the hands of a human would be impossible to resist opening. So, she let out all the evils of the world.”

“Impossible to resist opening?” I asked.

“Yes, the gods were cruel. The evil needed to be unleashed. This made them blameless for introducing that evil into the world.”

“But I didn’t feel compelled to open it.”

“You’re not human. You’re a vampire.”

I turned to Fallon. “That means you had no choice when you opened it. It’s not your fault.”

She let out a relieved sigh.

 “That was not the only one ever created,” Connor added, punctuating the point with a finger in the air. “In fact, anything can become a Pandora’s box if you happen to know a witch powerful enough to work the spell. They’re a type of prison. Whatever is locked inside cannot break free. Only something on the outside can open the box and release its contents.”

“But if humans can’t be trusted with it, it isn’t a very good prison,” I said.

“It’s not meant to fall into human hands. We of the supernatural realm can handle them without the need to open them.”

He flipped through a few more pages in his book and then suddenly stopped. He pointed to the middle of a page with a drawing of the box we had encountered. “Does this box look familiar?”

“That’s it,” I said. It was uncanny. Just as in Lysander’s books, the drawing had been done so meticulously it was like looking at a photograph. “So what was supposed to be locked inside?”

“The first vampire,” Connor said.

That revelation took the room by surprise.

Connor let the news sink in for a moment before continuing on. “Vampires and werewolves are related by more than just mythology. Our originator—the first werewolf, that is—was King Lycaon, the ruler of Arcadia. He was known for being a vicious and cruel leader.”

“They were all that way in those days,” Lysander said nonchalantly. He spoke from experience.

“He had a multitude of sons, but only one recorded daughter. His daughter, Kallisto, was a chaste woman and a follower of the goddess Artemis. As the legend goes, Zeus, being the promiscuous god he was, tricked Kallisto into bed, and that union produced a child. Lycaon was enraged. He sacrificed Kallisto’s child and attempted to trick Zeus into consuming the flesh. Naturally, Zeus retaliated. He turned Lycaon into a wolf and killed off most of his sons. Meanwhile, Hera, Zeus’s wife, after finding out what had happened, demanded that Kallisto too be sacrificed. Since she had the love of both Zeus and Artemis, she was spared, if you can call it that. Instead of death, she was taken from her home and given to the goddess Nyx.”

“She was sent to the stars.” Fallon whispered.

“Yes. Not literally of course—but she was under the rule of night from that moment on. It is rumored that Zeus was trying to win the affections of the goddess of the night and Kallisto was a gift. Nyx had a demi-god grandchild in need of a mate. Kallisto was made vampire and given to Aniketos, the original vampire, as a bride.”

“I’m guessing that was an unhappy arranged marriage,” I sniggered.

“Precisely,” Connor agreed. “Kallisto eventually contacted her remaining brothers and begged them to help her escape him. Aniketos was an abusive and bloodthirsty monster. She herself had attempted to kill him on many occasions and failed. Knowing he could not be killed, they had to devise a trap to hold him forever. They found a coven of witches powerful enough to work the spell creating the box that would be his prison for eternity.”

“Why not just create a tomb and lock him inside?” I asked.

“A tomb couldn’t hold him. Because of his strength, he could only be held in spirit form, thus negating his physical abilities. The Pandora’s box was their only solution. These boxes are no small feat of magic. The original jar had been created by the gods themselves. It took an entire coven to create this box.”

“Okay, so how did they get his spirit in?” I asked.

“That was the wolves’ job. As you have witnessed, we are quite strong.” He looked at Nicholas and laughed. “And as a pack we are quite formidable, even to godlike creatures.”

Nicholas returned Connor’s laugh with a mocking sneer. “Best two out of three?”

It was then that I had the sneaking suspicion that he threw the fight on purpose. If that was true, then by allowing Connor to win, he was actually letting him save face in front of his other wolves. That show of respect might have been the only reason Connor changed his mind. It seemed like Nicholas was just as good at politics as Lysander was at diplomacy. Either way, I wasn’t about to say it out loud, and jeopardize our tentative offer of help.

Without answering Nicholas’s challenge, Connor continued, “Wolves, just like other animals, are also very sensitive to the things around them. We can see ghosts, to put it simply.”

“My old cat used to stare at walls. Freaked me out!” Fallon said.

“Yes,” Connor nodded. “Much like that. There is more to see in this world than the simple things human eyes can detect.”

“The more I learn about the supernatural world, the scarier it gets,” Fallon mumbled.

“I know how you feel,” I said.

Connor cleared his throat and gave us a look that told rather than asked us for silence so he could continue. “Kallisto again attempted to murder her husband with the help of the wolves. In the few moments he was too weak to fight back, the witch cast another spell, to pull Aniketos’ spirit from his body and hold it in place. It was assumed the spirit, if ever released from the spell, would try to return to his body and reanimate it, so Kallisto set the body ablaze. The wolves, able to see him in spirit form, acted as sentries, keeping watch to ensure he stayed within the circle while the body burned to ash. Kallisto then deposited the ash into the box. The spirit, however, did not try to return to its body—it tried to escape. In a moment of clarity, a brave wolf willingly sacrificed himself, hoping his blood would draw back the demon. It worked. Crazed with bloodlust, it returned even without its body and began to suckle at the blood of its willing victim.  The wolf welcomed his honorable death and his sacrifice kept the spirit of Aniketos in place long enough to be pulled into the box. Once closed, the box was supposed to seal him inside forever.”

“So that’s what you meant by we needed more than just knowledge.” I counted out the people necessary. “We need a witch to perform the spell, someone capable of seeing him in spirit form, and the force to attack him.”

“Indeed,” Connor said, with a hint of unease.

“Surely it can be done without the wolves’ help,” Nicholas said.

“Do you have the box?” Connor asked.

“Sadly, no. It disappeared a few days ago,” Lysander said.

“Then you’ll need a new witch coven to make one. As well as to perform the final spell.”

“Can you suggest any for us to contact?” Lysander asked.

Aiden cleared his throat. “I might know of someone. Give me a day and I’ll get you an answer.”

Connor shot a sideways glance at his son. I saw the slight curl of his upper lip before he turned back to face us. “Once you have it, though, how do you propose to trap the spirit and pull him inside?”

“It wants its blood back.” Lysander said. “I am assuming it is tracking its lineage. I am the child of Kallisto and those of my clan are direct descendants, so to speak.  Other than Edmond, I doubt there are many others of her direct linage left in this world. Her clan has been destroyed. It should find us.”

“And who would you sacrifice?”

“I will go,” Nicholas said eagerly. “Rozaline will be avenged.”

Lysander turned to Nicholas, and the mask of blank emotions fell from his face. “No my friend, I cannot let you take the fall. Rozaline was my child. I created her. I will be the sacrifice.”

“No,” I screamed. “You can’t leave me, Lysander.” My heart threatened to tear itself in two. I couldn’t bear the thought of him dying.

“Lysander, you have a new mate, I have just lost mine. I want to do this. There is no joy in eternity without Rozaline. I’d gladly sacrifice myself to be reunited with her again.”

“You are an honorable man, Nicholas,” Lysander placed his hand on Nicholas’s shoulder. “If that is your wish, I won’t stop you. Rozaline will be waiting for you on the other side.”

I didn’t want either of them to die. Nicholas might be insufferable, but he was family. And Lysander—I couldn’t imagine eternity without him. Neither choice was good, but I felt a small sense of relief believing that Lysander would still be there when this was all over.