Pandora's Ring (2 page)

Eli snorted. “Come on, doll. I’m a Damned. I’ve got a blue suede suit.”

* * * *

He followed Samantha to the coffee shop the next morning. Changing his looks to be inconspicuous was easy enough, but if she was a sensitive individual than it could cause problems. At first he just stood in line some three people away. He needn’t have worried though. Judging by the bags under her eyes and the dulled luster of her hair, she’d been up all night. Maybe trying this now wasn’t a good idea. People were touchy when they were tired, and she’d already told him off once.

No, he should at least get a foot in the door. He considered being cavalier and buying her drink but decided against it as she ordered a triple shot vanilla latte. Damn. Even as a demon, he didn’t need that much caffeine. What the hell did she do for a living?

She sat in one of the arm chairs and pulled out a laptop, pulling her hair up in a bun as she pushed a pair of glasses up her nose. Had she been wearing those last night? No–either contacts or she’d been blind. That would explain why she’d ignored his dashing good looks.

Or she was just sensitive and smart.

He was fucked if it was the latter.

Stop thinking negative, Eli
. There was nothing like a sugar-packed pastry to lift a lady’s spirits. Clearly he would need to lay on the charm.

“Large coffee, a cookie, one of those blueberry bagels, and a pumpkin muffin.” He paused. “And oatmeal.”

Might as well cover all the bases, just in case she was a health nut.

* * * *

The website was still up and running. No bugs, no glitches so far. Thank God. The stuff she’d done last night had been quick and dirty, and she’d half expected the server to crash during the night. Hopefully the latte would let her get some better quality coding going.

She’d just finished identifying her plan of attack when someone settled into the chair next to her. Not looking up, she moved her latte from the middle of the table so they could set their tray down.

“Thank you.”

“No prob.” She didn’t take her eyes off the screen, but glanced up to make sure her latte wasn’t about to fall off the table. It was the same man from last night. She jumped. “What the hell?”

Samantha leaned over and dug in her pocket for her phone. “Okay, look, mister. I don’t care how well you knew my mom. If you don’t get the fuck out, I’m calling the cops on your ass.”

The man held up his hands. “Hey,” he said. “Look, just give me a second, okay? I know I fucked up last night. You’re right. If someone pulled that shit on me, I’d have a shotgun in their face in a nanosecond, and you were well within your rights to tell me to fuck off.”

Samantha frowned, cell phone still out and ready to dial. The guy freaked the shit out of her. At least he’d admitted he was being stupid about it. “So how did you know where to find me? Stalking me to a coffee shop isn’t much better.”

“I’m staying at the Westin next door.” He pulled out a key card “See? Room seven-oh-four. I swear this is just coincidence.”

Samantha’s eyes stayed trained on him. “Damn high level of coincidence.” She considered his card.
 
It looked real enough but that didn’t really confirm his story. Was he being truthful? Was this all coincidence combined with shitty people skills?

The man didn’t push, barely moving except to sip on his drink. He looked tense, Samantha noted, but more as if he were holding his breath for her answer than waiting for her to see through a ruse. In the end, his respect of her thought process prompted her to give him a chance.

“I’ll make you a deal. I’m not forgetting last night, but I will let you try again, right here, right now. If you manage not to piss me off in explaining why you’re looking for my mom, we’ll talk.”

* * * *

Eli nodded, quietly marveling. Damn, this woman was smart. Normally he would have already written her off as an iron clad no-go. “Fair enough. First of all, have some breakfast. I wasn’t sure what you’d want, so take whatever you like and leave the rest.”

She eyed him. Then took the cookie and dipped it in her drink. “Thanks.”

“No problem. What say we pretend I emailed you and asked to meet here?”

“What was the topic of the meeting supposed to be?” She asked, but seemed to relax.

“Your mother.” He held out his hand. “And I would have introduced myself as Eli Tawson.”

“Samantha Parker.” She shook, grip firm, dry and certain. “So, what about my mother?” She frowned. “To be honest, I would have ignored an email like that. Still has shifty written on it.”

“Even if I told you she probably wasn’t dead?”

Samantha drew in a slow breath, as if counting to ten. “What the hell are you talking about?” She hissed. “Dad helped dress and bury the corpse. She’s definitely dead.”

Eli nearly groaned aloud. Damn it, the file didn’t say anything about a corpse. “I see. Have you heard of her deal?”

“What kind of deal?” Samantha snapped. “There was nothing in her will.”

Eli frowned. “A will? When was it written?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but three months before I was born.”

A will made so close to deal consummation meant Marie knew something was going to go down. Either she’d been planning a run or planning a fight. Apparently, she’d succeeded in both.

“Something wrong?” Samantha asked. “Dad said it wasn’t an easy pregnancy, so she was worried.”

“Hmm.” Eli mused, watching her sip her drink. He frowned. “You married?” he asked.

Samantha glanced at her hand, appeared to think for a moment, and then shook her head. “No. It’s my mom’s wedding ring. I just wear it on the ring finger to keep the creeps at bay.”

“Sorry. Apparently it sucked at it.” Eli muttered idly.

She laughed. Maybe he wasn’t doing so bad. “I only told you the truth because whatever scheme you’re trying to sell me doesn’t have anything to do with whether I’m married or not.”

“Wow.” Eli chuckled. “Pretty harsh.”

Samantha shrugged. “How the world works sometimes. Being single and a woman, I have to evaluate threats like this daily. Is his attempt to buy me a drink or a drug? Is he trying to get me alone to rape me or to ask me out?”

“Ah, so this is normal paranoia. How am I doing so far?”

“Pretty shitty.” She replied promptly. “Look, just drop the act. You still haven’t told me what you
want.
You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t
want
something. So what is it? Not sex or death, you would have done way better to attack me in the apartment. Money? Legally, I don’t owe you shit, and I bet my mom didn’t either. You said she made a deal with a Diego. So where’s he, where’re the papers?” She paused, frowning. “And while we’re at it, what’s with the contacts? Your eyes are all screwed up.”

Eli stared at her in shock. “My eyes?”

“Yeah. All black with swirly pupils. Kinda cool, actually. Freaky, but cool.”

Dark, swirling eyes? His glamour showed nice chocolate brown, so what was she talking about? Without the glamour his eyes were–Eli surged up in panic. She’d seen his eyes! How the hell? He needed to get out of here, fast. “Keep the stuff,” he stammered, and walked out.

* * * *

Samantha stared after the man, twirling the ring around her finger. She shrugged. “Weird thing to get all tied up in knots over.” she said. She looked back at the table, then her computer, and smiled. She had snacks for the next few hours. That was a plus.

Still, this was getting stranger by the minute. Once she was finished tweaking and checking the site, she needed to pay a visit to her mother’s papers and try and dig up something about this Diego guy, maybe phone her father. That was sure to be pleasant.

* * * *

“Eli, talk sense. What the hell do you mean, ‘she saw my eyes’?”

The other man’s large, tanned arms were crossed around the beer he was nursing as Eli drummed his fingers on the table. “Exactly what I said, Francis. She said it, clear as day ‘what’s up with your eyes? They’re all black and swirly.’” He groaned, rubbing his face. “Asked me if I was wearing contacts.”

Francis shook his head. “You sure you weren’t distracted? From what you said, this is a weird case as it is.”

“I’m sure. My cover wasn’t blown or anything–besides, I’d think she would have commented on the paper-white skin and the black claws.”

“I guess. Still, man, might only be a matter of time. Though, I hear if a Damned falls in love with a mortal, the mortal can see their true form.”

“Uh, yeah, except for the whole thing where I actually don’t like the chick much. I mean, sure I’ve got to hand it to her–she’s tough and knows what the fuck she’s doing, but she’s also paranoid and shut up tighter than a nun’s legs.”

“Gross, man. Point taken, though.” Francis frowned, rubbing his chin. “The only other alternative is her sensitivity. She’s either descended from a Damned, been touched by one, or has some sort of other latent power.”

“Checked her history. Diego didn’t ever get a hand on her as a baby. Her family’s clean.”

“So, latent power. Any artifacts, trinkets?”

“Nothing obvious. Mother’s wedding ring. The ring might be a shield, I guess, depending on the mother, but it was bought at a high-end jeweler only twenty-five years ago.”

Francis nodded. Eli watched him muse, hoping against hope his curious friend would take up his case. He couldn’t go to the Doll or the Secretary with this one–he’d get a misconduct and a deduction before he could blink. His friend and fellow Damned was an excellent information digger, though, and well-versed in lore.

“Hm. Well, I see why you came running to me, Eli. Right troublesome.” He took a draw off his beer. “I’ve got nothing special to do right now, though–so you keep wooing the chick. I’ll do some digging.”

Eli let out his breath in relief. “What do you want for it?” he asked.

“Easy.” Francis grinned. “You finish this one off, you owe me and my hell hound an excuse to get to Southeast Asia.”

Eli paused, glancing at the Damned dog by Francis’s feet, who yawned, revealing the inferno within. No one at the bar noticed it. Then again, familiars of the Damned were hardly ever corporeal. He snorted. “Done. No trouble at all.”

“Ah…the Maldives…Thailand…Vietnam…lovely all around.”

Eli didn’t hear him, frowning over his mental image of Samantha watching him in severe paranoia, telling him she knew he was bad news.

* * * *

Samantha realized she did not want to call her father about the time she realized she was cleaning the bathroom for the second time, her laundry was all finished and the living room–including couch and chairs–was vacuumed. The dishes had been done the previous night and she actually regretted it. Finally, she picked up the phone.

“Daddy?”

“Samantha bear! How did that project you were talking about turn out? I was going to call you but got tied up in Milan.”

Samantha smiled. Her father the world traveler. He’d taken her with him, when she was young, but these days she could only ever free up time around her birthday. “It’s okay, Daddy. Hey, do you have a minute?”

“Anything for you, sweetie. What’s on your mind?”

Samantha frowned.
 
Did she need to bring her father into this yet? The guy wasn’t asking for money, hadn’t even bothered her for three days. She grimaced. Better to ask now, right? “Do you know anyone named Diego?”

“Diego?” Her father barked a laugh. “Sounds like a loan shark or a used car salesman. No. Why?”

“Some guy emailed me saying you knew him.” She tried to sound relieved, but in reality it only worried her more. “Sure glad I ignored it.”

“He asking for money?”

“No, Daddy. Just wanted to meet.”

Her father’s voice grew severe. “Should I make a call to the police chief? Can’t say he owes me a get-out-of-jail-free card, 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?”