Free Pandora's Ring by Kaitlin R. Branch

he lowered her to the pillow.
    “You had a stroke,” he said softly.
    “And you just decided to up and kiss me in the middle of it?”
    He was too relieved by the improvement in her speech to be offended by her tart tone. “It formed a temporary bond,” he said. “Enough so I could undo the stroke.”
    “U-undo?” she stammered.
    “Undo. I broke up the clot and then oxygenated your brain again.” He looked away. “Usually that kind of bond is used to seal a seduction deal…I just modified it.”
    She was struck silent and lay quiet for an additional hour. “I’m tired,” she mumbled.
    “You can sleep.”
    “No…it’s just…it’s too noisy. Are you sure that’s why Damned don’t sleep?”
    He laughed. “Maybe, secretly,” he said, stroking her hair again, watching her with new admiration. “It can get a little noisy, but because everyone’s along a rope, I have a little more control of the situation.”
    She nodded,   and licked her lips before continuing. “I meant to ask, what did you really look like as a mortal? I mean, were you always the handsome black guy?”
    Eli chuckled. “No. I was white as Wonderbread. Complete with freckles.”
    “But you walk around like some kind of black Adonis in your free time?”
    “Most of us ditch our mortal form once we become Damned. I’ve been lots of races. Latino, White, Irish, Middle-Eastern…but yeah, I kind of like the black guy look.”
    “Me too,” Samantha said with a smile. It fell quickly. “Why haven’t you harvested me yet?” she asked abruptly as he stroked her cheek.
    Eli frowned. “What do you mean?” Maybe she’d forget.
    “The assignment. I’m totally vulnerable right now. You could take my soul before I died.”
    Maybe he could divert her. Facing the question to her meant he’d have to answer it to himself. He was becoming more and more worried about the answer. “You’re not going to die.”
    “God-damn, Eli. Do you think I’m stupid? I just had a stroke. It’s not getting any better. I can feel it.”
    “I’m here,” he said stubbornly. “I can keep you afloat. Somehow.”
    “You’re supposed to be harvesting me!”
    “You’re the only mortal in history to beat down a greater Damned,” Eli muttered, hoping it was enough of an excuse. “Like I’d just harvest something so precious.”
    She frowned at him, then turned her gaze to the ceiling again. “Right,   Okay.”
    They spent several more hours with Samantha swinging from silent and half-asleep to wide awake and writhing. Eli put a silencer on the room so no one would report them and held her fast as she thrashed amidst the covers, screaming and sobbing in agony. Her breath came fast, her body became slick with sweat.
    “No, no, no more!” she screeched as he tried to hold her close again, her hands twisting in the sheets. “Stop it, Eli, please, stop the voices!”
    “Samantha,” he whispered, shaking his head as he splayed a hand across her chest. He could feel himself trembling as her health rapidly declined. Another three, four hours, there would be nothing he could do. The souls within her wouldn’t let up for a few weeks, and they were on day one still. Her back arched and she shuddered in pain.
    “I’m dying,” she whispered. “I’m dying, please, just kill me, Eli–you can have my soul if you want it.”
    “No, Samantha,” he whispered. “I’m not going to do that to you.”
    “Please,” she moaned, and buried her hands in her hair, pulled at it desolately, so hard a clump came free. “Please, God, Eli! Kill me. You said I could trust you.   Please!”
    “No, Samantha,” he said again, mouth going dry. Her heart was fluttering, beating too fast, too shallowly.
    “Why?” she moaned plaintively, “why?” She pulled at her hair again, tugging until he took her by the wrist and pressed on the tendon, forcing her to let go. “Please, Eli, talk to me. Why? What death is like? When I can die? Tell me when the voices will