Pandora's Key (25 page)

Malledy was so excited, he was spitting each word and saliva coated his chin. “Juliette, people have proven over and over they can’t govern themselves. They have to be led, through intellect and violence, when they don’t do what’s right. I can do that—I can be their God.”

Malledy met his mentor’s calculating eyes, pleased that their steely resolve had returned. “Juliette, I want
you
to rule beside me. I’ll make you a Goddess Mother to humanity just as you were my own adopted mother.”

“You’re insane,” Evangeline hissed. “Totally insane…”

“Shut up!” Malledy commanded. He looked again to Juliette.

A curious smile was spreading across her face. Malledy found it beyond beautiful to behold.
She understands. She’s an Archivist first after all.
“So you’ll join me?” he asked.

“
Oui,
” Juliette said, stepping forward and wrapping Malledy in a tender embrace.

Evangeline gasped. “What the—?”

Malledy sighed in relief.
Even a God needs company.

“The end always justifies the means,” Juliette whispered in Malledy’s ear.

Malledy smiled, and then he felt a sharp and terrible pain in his lower back. The agony was unbearable, unthinkable, undoing all he had planned in one single, horrendous moment. He crumpled to the elevator floor.

“Juliette,” he gasped, “what have you done?” Hot blood soaked through his clothing and onto the scuffed white tiles.

Juliette sank down beside Malledy, a bloody stiletto in her hand. “I’ve saved mankind from you,
mon cher.
”

Malledy’s head fell onto Juliette’s lap and she rocked him as she’d done when he was a boy scared awake by nightmares.

“It was so very long ago,” Malledy murmured, “that you held me like this.”

“But I remember,” Juliette said. She looked up at Evangeline pressed speechless into the corner of the elevator. “You didn’t really heal him, Evangeline.”

“What? But, I—I tried to—I think he broke away before it was complete.”

Juliette kissed Malledy’s ashen face—it was wet from their tears. “I will always love you,
mon fils
.”

“I’m
not
your son,” Malledy replied.

“But you
are
,” Juliette said softly. “Mine and Otto’s. That’s why you were given a chance to become an Archivist.” Malledy’s eyes slid closed and his head fell to one side.

Juliette reached up and released the emergency button and then pushed “P3” for the parking garage.

“He wasn’t always like this,” she told Evangeline. “Once Malledy was a vessel waiting to be filled with knowledge—thirsting for it. He was brilliant and kind and when he smiled… it lit up my heart.”

The elevator doors opened in the garage and Juliette handed Evangeline Pandora’s Box. “Take it and go!”

Clutching the box, Evangeline stepped out of the elevator and then turned back to face Juliette. “I’m—I’m sorry for…for your loss.” The doors closed behind her.

The Gods give us small blessings,
Juliette thought as the elevator traveled to the roof without stopping to pick up passengers. Her hands and clothes were soaked with blood. Malledy lay dead at her feet. Blood from her single stab wound to his kidney had turned the white floor into a slick ruby pool.

The elevator doors opened.

The sun had risen and it was a cool, clear morning. Gazing out at the mountains in the distance, Juliette thought that there were far worse places. She walked to the edge of the rooftop and looked down at the cars and people twenty stories below. Humanity preserved for yet another day.

Up in the pure blue sky, a falcon was soaring on air currents, his body momentarily blotting out the sun as he circled. Perhaps in death, Malledy had been transformed into this falcon. Perhaps she, too, would be allowed to join him, soaring endlessly—free.

It’s a good day to die,
Juliette thought. She climbed the low wall encircling the roof. She inhaled deeply, exhaled, and took a step—her eyes trained on the falcon, she plummeted into nothingness.

Evangeline sat on a cold concrete barrier in an empty corner of the hospital’s parking garage. She was cradling Pandora’s Box, which was giving off a soft rose glow. As she traced the intricate swirls carved on its surface, the glow grew stronger.

Turning the box over, she noticed a small keyhole, but she couldn’t see a seam where the lid of the box ought to be. She traced the outline of the keyhole and her fingers began to prickle. The onyx key suddenly felt hot and she looked down to see the key straining against its chain, pulling away from her chest, and levitating toward the box.

She pressed the key back against her neck. The desire to take the key off and insert it into the box bloomed in her mind.
Then I will know if all of it is true. And if it isn’t, I can go back to who I was, before. I can just be Evangeline Theopolis, without ancient Sects to protect me, or people trying to kill me. If Annihilation isn’t in the box, then I’d be truly free.

The yearning to open the box intensified until it became a steady heartbeat to match her own:
Open it. Open it. Open it.
Evangeline’s fingers slid along the chain and she touched the clasp that had previously disappeared.
Sam was wrong—there’s one other way it will reappear.
Evangeline pried open the clasp and the key—beautiful and shining despite the dim light—slid into her hand.

Evangeline advanced the key toward the keyhole, which seemed to be drawing it like a powerful magnet.
I can end this nightmare. Maybe once I open the box, I’ll wake up at home. Mom will be healthy. Sam will be the godmother I once loved. Melia and Tristin will be alive. I’ll be plain old Evangeline again. None of this will have happened. With one turn of the key, I can end the insanity. Open it. Open it. Open it.

What if it’s all true, a tiny voice in the back of Evangeline’s mind whispered.
It’s not.

“But what if it is,” she asked aloud.
It’s not.

Open it. Open it. Open it.

“What will happen to the people I love if I’m wrong?”
Nothing.

Open it. Open it. Open it.

“What will happen to the world if I’m wrong?”
Nothing.
NOTHING.

Open it. Open it. Open it.

Evangeline slid the key into the keyhole.

This is as it should be. This is right. This is what the Gods have always wanted. Man must be punished for the crime of accepting fire. I am the key—the key—the key.

“How do I know that I’m the key?” Evangeline whispered.

Because of who you are.

Open it. Open it. Open it.

Every fiber in Evangeline’s body was desperate to turn the key, open the box and see what was inside. She was overwhelmed with a burning curiosity—her hands shook with it; her body craved it; the key had to be turned.
This is my destiny. Finally—finally—finally.

OPEN IT. OPEN IT. OPEN IT!

She began to twist the key…and then she knew—knew without a shadow of a doubt in the way that a person knows if it’s day or night.

“I am the descendant of Pandora.”

Shutting her eyes, she drew upon strength she’d never known she possessed. She withdrew the key, slid it on the chain, and put the necklace around her neck. As soon as she’d closed the clasp, it disappeared.

“There’s no going back.”

Feeling exhausted and shaky, Evangeline used the wall behind her to stand and then walked back to the elevator. As she ascended to her mom’s floor in safety and silence, she wondered for a brief moment what Juliette had done with Malledy’s body. But she didn’t dwell on it. That chapter was over. But she knew from this point onward, life was going to be dangerous and deadly—and filled with inexplicable wonders.

Samantha was waiting for Evangeline in the hallway by the bank of elevators. Evangeline handed her Pandora’s Box. Sam’s expression was a mixture of shock and fear combined with a hard glint in her eyes.

“I’ll explain later,” Evangeline said. “Right now I just want to sit with my mom.” She started to walk away, and then turned. “Samantha, keep the box away from me. Hide it and never let me know where it is. Okay?”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t be trusted not to open it.” Evangeline met Sam’s eyes and an understanding passed between them. “I know who I am now.”

And Evangeline walked down the hallway, embracing the uncertainty of her future.

The hardest part for Evangeline was the loss of her mother. Her mom would’ve been able to help her navigate this new life. There were days when the enormity of who she was felt overwhelming. Days when she was totally pissed off that her life wasn’t really her own. Days when she felt suffocated by the knowledge that there were people who wanted to kidnap or kill her. Days when the fact that there was a mythic curse hanging over her head felt like a ticking time bomb. And days when she missed her mother and Melia so badly that her heart ached with it.

Dr. Sullivan was a huge help. Maybe it was because they were both going through their own grieving processes. Now that he’d stopped drinking, he’d been forced to deal with his emotions surrounding his wife and daughter’s deaths. Evangeline liked to think that she and the doctor could help one and other when the weight of their respective situations got too depressing. Dr. S., as she started to call him, liked to hear her play guitar and sing, so she’d do that for him when he seemed particularly melancholy. And he in turn would get her favorite take-out food (he was a terrible cook), give her driving lessons (he was incredibly calm), and he even helped her turn his daughter’s nursery into a fantastic teenager’s room.

Dr. S. never forced Evangeline to talk about her feelings—probably because, like her, he needed time and space to process such feelings alone. Dr. S wasn’t Evangeline’s mom, but for a guardian, he was more than okay.

Rebuilding trust with Samantha was harder than Evangeline had imagined it would be. Wiping the image of Sam suffocating her mom out of her mind was impossible. And her godmother had also kidnapped her and kept her a prisoner. That was tough to forget. But Evangeline was working to forgive Sam. Life was short, especially for a descendant, and she didn’t want to spend it weighed down by anger.

It helped to think about all the things that Samantha and the rest of her cult (Evangeline insisted on calling Pandora a cult just to bug her godmother) had sacrificed. Juliette had killed Malledy to save Evangeline and had then taken her own life. Melia had never even
had
her own life before she was struck down saving her. Her best friend had lived with the knowledge that her own mother valued Evangeline’s survival over her daughter’s, and in the end Melia had died just as she’d always imagined—protecting the descendant. And Samantha and all the leaders before her had never married nor had children, devoting their entire lives to the descendants.

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Evangeline called.

Dr. S popped his head in. “You ready E?”

When she turned around, the look on the doctor’s face made her blush. “I’m not sure I should let you out of the house,” he said.