2. Pandora

Iwoke up for the first time that I could remember without pain barreling through my body, and the familiar ache in my muscles was noticeably absent.

Magic thrummed through my veins in a way I’d heard my mother rant about and had read about, but it was the first time I’d felt it myself. My magical reserves weren’t empty anymore, but my stomach was in knots.

Soft bedding surrounded me snugly, grounding me in the present.

It was what I’d always considered comfortable to feel like.

I blinked rapidly as my eyes adjusted to the harsh streams of sunlight. Carefully, I ran my hands over my body to check for any of the injuries my mother had inflicted, but I touched fabric instead of skin like I’d been used to. Relief washed over me when I found no remnants of what I had just gone through, but unease lodged into my gut at the realization that someone must have dressed me in a soft T-shirt and a pair of shorts.

Sitting up, I glanced around the room I was in.

Sunlight poured through a large floor-to-ceiling window across from me, offering a glimpse of the desert outside. A desert I had been kept underneath all of my life. I’d read about the vastness of the desert landscape before, but no words could truly depict what was before me.

Sand covered as far as I could see, dotted with cacti. Tumbleweeds lazily danced across the ground, and a wide, open sky stretched out into the distance.

When I finally tore my gaze away from the window, I noticed old furniture with demonic designs, polished to a gleaming shine, around me. It complemented the natural hues of the sandstone walls. The cellar I’d been kept in was sandstone as well, but this was a brighter color of it. It was more inviting, but I figured anything would be better than where I’d been.

Tossing the blanket off my legs, a wave of nervousness flooded me. The echo of my heartbeat pounded in my ears as I saw the many, many scars carved into my right thigh. The scars disappeared up into my shorts. There was a faint mark around my left ankle where the chain had been, but it wasn’t anything obvious. It looked more like a faded bruise than anything else.

Mother had always told me she would only cut where I could hide the scars since I never healed quite right. Another thing I did wrong was scar. My back, thigh, and stomach were covered in them. When I came into my powers, she planned to parade me around without the hideous marks of her trying to make me normal on display.

In her words, a demon with scars was as defective as a powerless one. I’d never be normal, and I’d always be broken.

I gulped, and a stabbing pain made my throat spasm. I needed water. Since my larynx and vocal cords were also scarred, I felt like I always needed a drink.

It was surreal to be out of the cellar, but I still didn’t remember what happened after my powers devoured her soul.

I flinched as everything flooded back.

Where was Nebula?

My stomach twisted into a painful knot as the bitter, acidic taste of bile crept up, coating my mouth with a nauseating flavor.

Noticing a trash bin near the door, I haphazardly pushed out of the warm bed and stumbled across the hard floor until my knees collapsed onto the rough stone. Guttural retching and gagging filled the room as I struggled to expel the contents of my stomach, each sound a painful reminder of what I had done to my mother.

Bile burned my throat. Obsidian tar-like vomit hit the bin, splashing into it. Involuntary tears streamed down my cheeks, and my throat ached worse from the strain of puking.

Fates, why was my body rebelling against me?

Distant footsteps approaching caused me to tense as a strange sensation of a soul heading my way filtered through my senses. I’d never sensed someone’s soul before. It would’ve been a handy instinct to have before.

Weakness took over, and I slumped against the wall beside the bin, trembling with exertion.

The door to the room opened, swinging out slowly.

I held my breath.

A man with long dark black hair and pitch-black eyes stepped inside. He wore a simple black button-up shirt and a pair of black slacks. There was a frown on his face as he glanced around the room.

He moved the door and looked behind it, startling as his gaze connected with mine.

His features were eerily familiar.

“Hi,” he murmured, carefully bending down and offering me a hand. “I’m Gravesend, but you can call me Daryl. What’s your name?”

It took me a moment of staring blankly back at the man before realizing demons used their last names unless they were close with someone. Then, they shared their first names. I was only ever given a first name. Mother had told me that once I earned my place as her daughter, she would give me her last name. That never happened.

This man just shared his without batting an eye. It went against everything I’d read about demon etiquette.

“P-P-Pandora. J-Just Pandora,” I croaked, reaching out and taking his hand to help me to my feet.

His brows raised, and he glanced down at the trash bin. “Do you need water?”

“Yes,” I rasped.

He nodded, disappearing through the door for a moment before coming back with a cup of water with ice rattling inside. “Here you are.”

I grabbed it with two trembling hands, feeling the cold of the glass against my skin as I brought the cup to my lips and drank it. The cold water sliding down my throat felt like magic, and I greedily gulped everything down until only ice cubes remained.

I’d only ever had warm water. Cold water tasted so much better.

“Thank you,” I whispered softly.

“Of course.” He cleared his throat, holding his hand out to take the cup. I handed it over, and he placed it on the dresser. “You got sick.”

“Yes.”

He reached up and ran a hand through his long hair with a pensive expression. “Probably due to magical malnutrition. You’ve been asleep for five days. Our healer came to take a look at you. How long had it been since you had fed before the…woman…that was found with you?”

“Never,” I murmured, wrapping a hand around my throat as I sucked in a deep breath.

His eyes almost bulged out, but he schooled his horrified expression. “At least your regular nutrition seems to be fine.”

“She didn’t want my body too weak to try to tap into magic,” I explained, my words vibrating against my palm from my throat.

“And she was your mother?” His mouth spread into a harsh line.

“Yes.”

“What do you mean by tap into your magic?” He gestured for me to take a seat on the edge of the bed.

I complied because my legs were still wobbly. “I’ve never been able to manipulate shadows or feed off of pain or negative emotions. She said I was defective.”

“You’re not defective, Pandora. You’re not a shadow demon, so of course, there was no way you could have the power of one,” he stated before exhaling a shaky breath and shattering everything I knew. “You’re a soul eater.”

A soul eater?

I’d read a passage about them in a demonology book before. It was short and simple. Soul eaters fed off the souls of other supernaturals and humans. There were only a handful left in Kalista. They could kill with just an outstretched hand, but I had used a black fog that came from my mouth. Why was I different? Would I be a defective soul eater, too?

“What?” The word sounded like a plea from my lips. “But—how?”

“You’re the sixth soul eater in Kalista, and all of us can sense each other. It’s a unique experience made only for soul eaters, but when you awakened, I’m sure the other four felt it, too.”

“How did you know where I was?” I clenched my fists in my lap. “Why did you come?”

“It’s part of sensing another soul eater awaken. You’re like a beacon for at least an hour after. I’m the Soul Eater Representative on the Demon Council, so it’s my duty to ensure all soul eaters are accounted for. I wasn’t expecting you to be a grown adult, and I definitely wasn’t expecting what I walked in on. But more importantly…I didn’t expect to recognize your mother.”

“What do you mean by that?” My chest tightened as I forced another breath.

“Pandora Gravesend. That’s your full name now. You are rightfully my daughter.” His eyes glistened as he shuddered. “I’m so sorry I didn’t know about you until you awakened.”

“My—father?” My heart leapt to my throat. “You’re my father?”

He nodded, screwing his eyes shut. “I recognized your mother. We shared a…drunken night about twenty-three years ago now. But I’m sorry. If I’d known about you, I wouldn’t have let your mother hurt you. You’ll be safe now. This is my manor, and this is your home now, too. How long had you been in that cellar?”

My mind whirled with so much new information that my stomach roiled again. This man was my father? And he hadn’t known about me? My mother had always told me I didn’t have a father.

“She said that after I turned one, she realized I was broken, so she stuffed me down there. She was embarrassed of me.” I laced my fingers together. “I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t chained there, though.”

“You were a baby.” His words were low, and I saw anger simmering in his eyes.

It was the very first time I saw anger that wasn’t directed at me.

I glanced down at my lap. “She never treated me like the way parents treated their kids in the children’s books I read when I was little.”

He gulped, raking his hands through his hair again. “She taught you to read, then?”

“She did.” I flinched at the memory of what happened when I failed to remember the sound the letter Q made. I didn’t make that mistake again. Learning to read had ensured my survival, but the act of reading was the only thing that gave me the desire to live. She only ever got me one fiction book, and I read it until the spine broke and she took it away.

“She got me a new book every month up until I turned eighteen.” It was the only mercy I was shown, and I coveted it. “I was allowed to keep all of the books up until a year ago when she got frustrated that I wasn’t performing. She shredded them all with her shadows.”

“Can you tell me what happened when your powers awakened?” he asked softly, like he was afraid I’d break.

I sniffed, glancing out the window toward the sand dunes and harsh sunlight. “I’ve never healed right. She cut off my skin and chunks of flesh, stabbed me, and then she slit my throat. I was dying. I’d wished for death through the years, but—” I hiccuped a breath, and my throat burned from all of the talking. Even Nebula and I didn’t talk this much. “I didn’t want to die when it came down to it. I hated her.” Shame seared through my veins. “My loathing seemed to explode inside of me, and the next thing I knew, a dark smoke came from my mouth and entered her before it absorbed her soul. The smoke came back into me, and I felt her soul be devoured by magic inside of me, filling my reserves.”

“Black smoke?” he asked, furrowing his brows.

I nodded and reached up to ghost my fingertips over my neck where her shadow had sliced across it. “It was the first time my body had healed like that. If I hadn’t, I would be dead.”

“Fates,” he hissed. “How often did she hurt you?”

“Almost every day.”

His eyes rolled to the sky, and he let out a harsh breath. “Fates forgive me. I’m so sorry, Pandora.”

“I-It’s not your fault. You didn’t know,” I croaked, tears flooding my eyes. I’d prayed to the Fates for someone to save me, and they never answered. Not until I saved myself. But he was my father, and he didn’t know about me.

He was just as much a victim as I was.

“I didn’t know,” he repeated as if he tried to comfort himself. “Your voice is hoarse. Do you need more water?”

I nodded, and he got up, grabbing the glass on his way out.

My mind was in the thick of static. I couldn’t focus on any one thing. My entire life had changed, just like I’d wanted. But what was out there for me now?

Ice rattled in the cup as he came back, and he handed it to me carefully. “Here you go.”

Just like the first cup, I drank it all and left the cold cubes. I stood, placed the cup on the nightstand, and sat back down. “My larynx and vocal cords are scarred and damaged, so a lot of talking hurts. I’ve never had cold water, but I like it. Water seems to help the discomfort a lot.”

“How?” That one word held a ton of emotion, and his chin wobbled.

“I was screaming too loud when she was slicing into my back one day,” I mumbled, staring out into nothing as I remembered the pain. “She didn’t like that, so she forced a shadow tendril down my throat to my vocal cords and cut them. I couldn’t make a sound for an entire year, but they healed, sort of, eventually. I think I was five when it happened, but I still can’t scream. It sounds…weird and scratchy. It’s not loud at all.”

“Fates,” he muttered again. “I’m so sorry, Pandora.”

“It’s the life the Fates dealt me,” I murmured, glancing at him again. “Where’s Nebula?”

“Nebula?” His brows furrowed.

“The kitten skull you found me with.” I wrung my fingers together in my lap. “His soul attached to his skull when he was killed.”

Recognition dawned in his eyes, but he frowned before opening up the drawer in the nightstand I’d set my water on. He pulled Nebula’s skull out and offered him to me. “You were clutching it tightly when we found you.”

I grabbed him carefully, setting him in my lap. My blood had dried to the bone, and I wedged my fingernail under the flakes and picked at them. “He’s my friend.”

“I can sense a soul attached.” He tilted his head, staring at the skull. “What do you mean by friend?”

“He’s the only one who has been there for me.” My chest tightened. “I’m not sure why his soul is sealed to it, but I’m glad it is.”

“It’s a soul eater instinct to be able to sense souls, but do you mean he talks to you?” he clarified, tilting his head.

“Of course. He’s spoken to me since the day Mother killed him with her shadows.” I frowned, still picking off the flakes. I hated when his skull got coated in my blood.

“That’s different,” he uttered the words with interest. “Maybe you have a special power.”

“A special power?” I mumbled as irony struck me. I’d been hurt so many times for not having any power, but now Daryl, my father, thinks I may have a special power.

“Don’t worry about it too much.” He shot me a reassuring smile before getting to his feet. “I’m going to let you rest some more. I’ll drop off a pitcher of ice water and some snacks in a few. Make sure you eat and stay hydrated, but you should sleep more, too.”

“Thank you.” I smiled at Daryl, my father, who had already treated me better in just a few minutes than my mother had my entire life.