Prison of Hope (7 page)

The sun shone down, lighting up the alley and glinting off the pieces of glass and paper that littered one side.

“So, do you have a plan?” I asked Pandora.

Pandora turned to the two men, who swayed slightly as if drunk, and removed a pen and notepad from her pocket. “Both of you will write your confession of your crimes.”

She didn’t need to speak to anyone she’d enthralled in order to get that person to do anything, but I think she liked to verbalize her orders. Either as an idiosyncratic action that made her connect more to her human side, or maybe she just liked the sound of her own voice. I preferred to believe it was the former.

Pandora passed the notepad and pen to the SS officer, who set about furiously scribing the confession to his crimes. It took him nearly five minutes, and several pages, to get it all out, but when he was done, he passed the notepad and pen to the British man.

“Excellent,” Pandora said, and the man beamed.

She tapped him on the shoulder, and he glanced around as if searching for something. Eventually, he found what he was looking for and walked off a few steps, stopping and picking up a three-foot piece of metal that at one point had probably been part of some railings. The metal was dark blue in color with a spike on one end that would have deterred people from climbing over whatever it had originally come from. He brought it back to Pandora, who smiled at him.

The officer beamed again, as if he were a puppy who’d been told he was a good boy, while the British man started his own confession in earnest silence. The officer placed one end of the pole into a drain nearby, ensuring that it was wedged tightly. Once forced into position, the spike was maybe two feet out of the drain. The officer knelt down in front of the spike and glanced over at Pandora, who nodded once. Then he drove his head forward as fast as possible, his eye making contact with the spike first, accompanied by a sickening sound. His own momentum and gravity ensured that the spike followed through the rest of his skull, coming out the back of his head with a crunch. The officer twitched for a few seconds and then went still, his body slowly collapsing to the dirty ground as he slid farther down
the railing.

The British man finished his confession and looked down at the man he’d been fighting only a short time ago, but he didn’t appear to notice or care. Pandora passed me the notepad, and I flicked through both men’s writings. The officer had murdered or tortured well over a dozen people, and many, many more h
ad be
en attacked. But the crimes of the British man were also contemptible, and he embodied the definition of a lifelong
criminal
. He’d raped and beaten many women in his lifetime, including girlfriends and wife. He wrote about the things he wanted to do to the woman he’d recently attacked, and how he was going to wait for her to leave the hospital before he visited her again. When I was done reading, I wanted to impale his head over that of the officer. Hell, I wanted to tear the fucking thing free of his neck and throw it down the alley. He was an evil little man who enjoyed the pain of others. Any concern over what Pandora wanted to do to him evaporated. Whatever she did wouldn’t be enough.

“Are you okay?” Pandora asked me as I raised my gaze to the man, who was still ignorant to his plight.

I nodded and placed the notebook in my pocket. “Whatever you’re going to do, get it done. We need to leave before anyone comes looking for his SS friend.”

Pandora turned back to the remaining follower and whispered something in his ear. He nodded with total enthusiasm, and I turned to walk away.

“You don’t want to watch this?” Pandora asked. “You’re not squeamish all of a sudden, are you?”

“I’m fine with whatever you’ve got planned, but I’ve killed and hurt enough people over the years that I don’t need to watch someone else do it. He’ll be dead either way.”

Pandora turned back to the man. “We’ll be with you
shortly then.”

I stood around the corner from the alley, maybe fifty feet away from whatever Pandora was inflicting on her victim, but not once did I hear any cries for help or screams of pain.

I checked my watch and found that two minutes had passed. I glanced around the corner to see a prone man lying on the ground on his side facing me, Pandora liberally stomping on his skull, which, even from the distance between us, I could tell was now grossly misshapen. I walked toward them and saw so much blood on his face that it appeared to be a mask. It wasn’t until I got a few steps closer that I realized that large portions of the skin on his face had been removed. Blood pooled out of his ears, combining with the blood that streamed from his face as if it had been torn apart.

“Pandora,” I whispered as she gave one last crunching stomp on his temple. Her black boots were shiny and slick with his blood; a piece of skin dangled from the heel.

The man remained silent, a smile still on what remained of his lips.

“I’m almost done,” she said.

“End it,” I demanded.

Her head snapped up toward me, her red eyes burning with rage. “You don’t get to tell
me
when to fucking stop.”

“End it, or I will,” I said, ensuring my voice was calm and level.

Her gaze remained locked on the man she was killing for just a moment longer before she glanced up at me, and her eyes softened. “As you wish.” She stared at her victim, and a second later he was no longer enslaved to her. The pain that wracked his body very quickly overrode his expression of confusion, and he screamed out, gaining a swift kick to the mouth for his trouble. Pandora removed a compact from her pocket and showed the man his new face. Just to drive the point home, she dropped something on his chest: his actual face.

“We want you to know that all of this is because of what you are,” she told him as he whimpered and tried to cry out, but Pandora stuffed the tip of her boot into his open mouth. “This is quicker than you deserve,” she told him and removed a knife from her pocket. She took the boot from his mouth and then slit his throat with one quick movement. She stepped away as he bled to death on the filthy ground of the alley. He clawed at his wound, desperate to stop the bleeding, but it was no use, and he was soon dead.

When he’d taken his last breath, Pandora wiped her boots on the trousers of the SS officer and tossed the knife onto the ground. “Now, I’m done,” she told me as she walked past me and around the corner to the end of the alley.

CHAPTER
6

Berlin, Germany. 1936.

P
andora had stolen the keys for a black Bugatti Type 50, which had light-blue stripes along each side. It was an ostentatious, but comfortable, car, and at least it meant that Pandora might behave herself for the journey if we drove in a car of her choosing.

Pandora said nothing from the moment she’d given me the keys, and remained quiet for the entire journey. It wasn’t until we were only a few miles away that she finally found her voice. “Hello, Nathan.” Her voice was still Pandora’s, but it was quieter, less assured of itself.

“Hope,” I said with a forced smile, “how are you?”

When Pandora was created all those millennia ago, it was by taking a normal human woman by the name of Hope and forcing her to bond with what is best described as a demon; a non-corporeal entity from another realm. It made her immortal, powerful, and dangerous. But it also left the demon in charge. She took the name Pandora. At some point, those responsible for Pandora’s creation realized that Hope’s consciousness was still inside. Over time, Pandora and Hope had come to some kind of mutual agreement, allowing each of them to be in charge as needed. Hope retained Pandora’s anger at those who had forced her into the situation she’d found herself in, but Hope hated the use of violence. She once told me that she’d seen enough of it through her long life and didn’t want to add to the tally of misery that Pandora had managed to accrue. She had a fair point.

“She’s unhappy that you stopped us from hurting that man. She didn’t think you were so weak. Pandora’s words, not mine.”

“I have no problems with killing or hurting people, but she did that for fun. I would have just killed him and been done with it. The theatrics were unnecessary; he had no information we needed and was bewitched anyway, so he only felt something at the very end. It was a pointless exercise of power to punish someone she wanted to hurt.”

“She’s angry. Although it’s not entirely aimed at you.”

“Well, wherever you’re going, she’ll have time to come to terms with whatever caused that anger.”

“I’m not going back to Tartarus?” Hope asked.

I shook my head and slowed up as we reached a Nazi checkpoint. Hope remained silent as I wound down my window and passed my forged papers to the officer who asked for them. He spoke to me about my journey, and I informed him that I was taking my girlfriend for a drive in the country. He looked Hope over and smiled, wishing me a good day before allowing me to pass.

“Why aren’t I going back to Tartarus?” Hope asked after we’d put more distance between the checkpoint and us.

“The second you escaped—”

“Pandora escaped,” Hope corrected.

“Sorry—the second Pandora escaped, she caused a lot of people to petition Hades to have you moved. Avalon agreed with Hera and a bunch of her cronies that you needed to be housed in a secure environment away from any influences.”

“I liked Tartarus. Everyone was nice to me.” She remained quiet for a few seconds. “I’m not going to be placed with Hera or any of her group, am I?”

“No, Hades wouldn’t let that happen, no matter what pressure anyone might put on him.” It wasn’t a huge secret that Hera wanted to have control of Pandora. Apart from her talent of bewitching people, she was also immortal and pretty much impervious to harm, although she did feel pain. Hera would have very much liked to study her and see what she could learn.

“Hera has always wanted to use me again,” she said, as if knowing my own thoughts. “She never showed any concern at what she and those closest to her created. Even Zeus begged me for forgiveness.”

I opened my mouth in shock. I’d never heard of Zeus begging for anything, although I knew that Pandora’s creation and what she had been used for had caused him many sleepless nights. Hades had mentioned before that it was the only one of a few occasions when he ever saw his Zeus have doubts over something he’d done.

Pandora was created as a weapon, the ancient Greek equivalent of a nuclear bomb. She could enthrall anyone she came into physical contact with, having the person do whatever she wished. During the Titan Wars, when the Olympians and Titans fought for supremacy millennia ago, the Titans destroyed an Olympian stronghold, killing tens of thousands of humans in the process.

In response, Pandora was created and sent to the Titan cities of Sodom and Gomorrah. She walked through the cities, ensuring that brother killed brother and wife killed husband. She turned tens of thousands of people against one another and forced the Titans to burn the place to the ground so that no one could escape and infect anyone else. It was before the true nature of Pandora’s power was discovered, when people thought that anyone enthralled could enthrall others. A combination of lies, half-truths, and deadly action turned two cities into scorch marks on the earth.

Some of the Olympians saw what had happened and were ashamed of what they’d created, ashamed of the awful destruction they’d wrought. Hera was not one of them.

“Hera wants power,” I said. “She always has. And since Zeus vanished, that craving has increased. The group she’s created with her companions has a lot of influence over Avalon, but not enough to get Hades to hand you over to them. There are too many powerful people who don’t want to see any more power in her grubby little hands. You’ll be taken somewhere neutral.”

Hope nodded in understanding.

“Did you forgive Zeus?” I asked.

“Understanding why he and the rest of the Olympians created us and forgiving them for it are two very different things. His apology went some way toward me holding no anger against him. Although, given a chance, Pandora would like to punish him. Only Hera, Ares, Demeter, Aphrodite, Dionysus, and
Hephaestus
remained unapologetic. My anger is reserved for them more than those who showed remorse at what they’d done.”

Of all the gods who had been involved in the wars that had been fought at the time, only Hades, Athena, and Hermes had refused to be involved in Pandora’s creation. These three, Zeus, and Avalon had tried to keep Pandora as far away from trouble as possible once the war was over. Usually, only a few centuries would pass before she escaped again and caused havoc in the world, but once we actually managed to find her, she’d always been captured with a minimum of fuss. For the past thousand years, I had always carried out that particular task.

We reached the airfield a short time later, and I nodded to one of Hades’s guards, who, along with his comrade, opened the fifteen-foot gate and let us in. I drove across the empty airstrip and parked the car beside the only hangar within the enclosed space.

Hades left the hangar before I could get out of the car; he opened Hope’s door, and she beamed at him as she stepped out.

“Hades,” Hope said with a genuine smile.

“Is that Hope? I’d . . . well,
hoped
that it would be you and not your alter ego. I was unsure how happy she would be at being captured after such a short period of time. She’s normally free for much longer.” Hades walked over to Hope and passed her two small bracelets, which Hope fastened on each wrist without complaint. They were designed to ensure that Pandora didn’t try to take control of her while she was in custody. They dampened Pandora’s abilities until she could be placed securely above whatever transport Hades was using; this vehicle would have the runework inside to ensure Pandora had no access to her power.

“She’s okay with it,” Hope said and looked over at me. “She expected Nathan to recapture us at some point.”

“Is there anything you can tell us about what she’s been doing?” Hades asked.

It was a question I’d wondered myself, although I knew that Pandora wouldn’t have said anything unless it benefited her, and I didn’t really want Hope to have to explain it to me and then Hades, so I hadn’t bothered to ask.

“It’s something to do with Berlin,” Hope said, clearly unhappy that she didn’t know more.

Although Pandora and Hope shared a body, and their emotions could be felt by one another, both of them could choose to hide things from the other. Pandora had learned long ago to hide her more violent tendencies from Hope, as they had begun to break Hope’s human psyche. Pandora couldn’t hide everything; things bled through whether she wanted them to or not, but she would endeavor to hide anything that would either cause Hope mental anguish or make her a liability if questioned.

“Do you know anything else?” a woman asked as she stepped around the side of the hangar.

She was one of the most staggeringly beautiful women I’d ever laid eyes on. The top half of her hair was so dark that it appeared no light could escape its snare, while the bottom half, which cascaded over her shoulders, was brilliant silver. I knew that the time of day affected how much of her hair was one color or the other; the later in the day, the more of it was dark.

Her lips were full and inviting, and her gaze filled you with the notion that she was both easy to talk to and fun to be around. A wicked temper hid behind the friendly exterior; it was something that anyone who crossed her was quick to feel. Her eyes were the most brilliant shade of green I’d ever encountered.

She was about five-four, although her high-heeled boots added another three or four inches to that, and she wore a dark trouser suit that would never have looked as good on anyone else on earth. Memories of her body, moving against me, tight and athletic, snapped to the front of my mind. I almost had to shake my head to remove the unwanted thoughts.

“Selene,” I said, keeping my tone calm, my thoughts neutral. My anger in check.

She glanced my way and nodded once.

Hades tried very hard not to look at me.

I tried very hard not to jump back in the car and drive away as fast as possible.

“I’ll take Hope for a chat,” Selene said, motioning for Hope to follow her.

I waited until they were both back in the hangar before looking at Hades. “Selene?” I asked, my tone incredulous. “Who’s unbearably stupid idea was this?”

“Apparently, Hera managed to swing the idea of putting someone with you to figure out whatever Pandora is up to. Hera suggested that she come see what’s happening.”

“And she
agreed
?”

“When I say ‘suggested,’ I mean she told her either she would come, or her husband’s brother would. Who would you prefer—Selene or the complete absence of personality that is Phobos?”

I sighed and placed my head against the Bugatti’s cool r
oof. “Great.”

“I know this can’t be easy for you,” Hades said as he walked over to me and leaned on the car.

“At least I know Selene is competent and won’t try to undermine me at every available opportunity. Besides, at least Hera didn’t send Selene’s husband, Deimos, instead, although it’s nice of Hera to try to use her grandson’s wife as a weapon against me.”

“You got that notion too,” Hades said with a sigh. “From what I hear, Deimos really hates you too. This probably won’t help.”

Deimos was, like his father Ares and siblings, an empath. Empaths came in two types, negative and positive. Although the positive empaths dealt with love, harmony, peace, and the like, the negative ones dealt in pain and anger and hate. Deimos, like all negative empaths, fed off people’s pain, making him physically stronger. But all empaths have one emotion that they are in sync with. In Deimos’s case it was terror. He could make you relive all of your memories where fear was prevalent. Empaths could even change your memories to increase the level of emotion they wanted from their victim. The more afraid the victim was, the more emotional the person became, and the stronger the empath would grow.

I nodded. “I don’t know if it’s because Selene was with me first, or because he thinks I’m a threat to their happy union, but he really does seem to have a bit of an issue with me.” A thought popped into my head. “Oh—it’s a little thing, but
Pandora
referred to herself as ‘I,’ not her normal ‘we.’ She did it a few times too.”

“You positive?” Hades asked, concerned.

“Yeah. You think maybe Pandora is exerting more control over Hope? She went to the Gestapo for a reason; there were lots of notes in their offices about North Africa and human test subjects. You think maybe she was helping them find the old realm gate the Olympians used to bring out the demon that they put inside Hope?”

“That realm gate is one of the most secure places on earth. It’s protected not only by Avalon but also by people I trust. But it’s worth letting them know your findings. Although why
Pandora
would want another person to go through what she did is beyo
nd me.”

“Maybe that’s why she killed them.”

“Something feels rotten about this,” he said and placed a hand on my shoulder before walking off into the hangar, leaving me alone as the midday sun beat down on the airfield. I removed my jacket and dropped it through the open window of the Bugatti before rolling up the sleeves of my shirt.

“Is this going to be a problem?” Selene asked as she walked around the car. She smelled good; I picked out vanilla in whatever perfume she had put on. It was a scent I’d noticed on the sheets and pillows after she’d left the bed . . . I took a deep breath.

“Your husband is a colossal asshole,” I said. “And Hera an even bigger one for sending you here.”

“Noted,” she said sharply. “I’m not here to discuss my love life; I’m here to try to figure out what Pandora spent her time doing in Berlin. I was ready to join you before she gave herself up—an act, if you remember, she’s never done before.

“She doesn’t give up unless she’s caught. But this time, she came and found you to wave the white flag. What was she doing between the time she was evading you at the Gestapo HQ and this morning?”

I didn’t like the way she said
evading
me, but maybe I was just being overly sensitive, so I kept my opinion to myself.

“That wasn’t a dig,” she said, after reading the thoughts that were obviously written over my face.

Damn it—she knew me too well.