by SM Reine
“James,” she groaned. “Help me up.” He kneeled by her side and lifted her into a sitting position.
“Are you okay?” he asked, touching her arms, her forehead, her shoulders, her neck. When his fingers brushed the back of her head, she flinched.
“Yeah,” Elise groaned. “But…don’t touch that again. Where did you go?”
“A nurse passed and I had to ask her where the bathroom was to allay suspicion,” he said. “I doubled back as soon as I could. How bad are you hurt?”
“I could be a hell of a lot worse.” She parted her jacket to check out her stomach. “Oh, damn. I liked this shirt.” It was torn into bloody shreds.
“We need to get you upstairs. What happened?” he asked, helping Elise stand.
“That thing I was feeling earlier,” she said. “It was a fiend. And something else, too.”
“A fiend?”
She stumbled when she tried to stand. James caught her. “They’re these little gargoyle-looking demon things.” Elise touched her fingers to the back of her head. They came away clean. “I don’t think they like me.”
“At least we’re in the right place for horrible injuries.”
“I’m fine,” she said. “All I need is a shot of whiskey and an aspirin.”
“I want Stephanie to check you out,” he said. Elise groaned. “Head injuries are dangerous things. We’ll want that looked at.” She didn’t respond, so he went on. “You’re saying a lesser hellborn was just wandering the hospital?”
“Not quite.” They got into the elevator, and she leaned against the wall. Even that small motion made her ache. “The fiend was with someone. I don’t know who. He was dead.”
James stared. “…Dead.”
“Yeah.” The elevator chimed and began to move. “There was a toe tag on his foot and his skin was blue. He looked like he’d been dead for a couple days.”
“So the fiend was dragging him.”
“No.”
“How was it moving him, then?”
“You’re not getting what I’m saying,” Elise said. “He attacked me. He was animate, but…unconscious.”
“A zombie,” James said.
“I guess. Damn, my head hurts.”
“Hold still. We’re nearly there.”
They got off at the ground level, and James guided Elise toward the nurse’s station. He interrupted a passing candy striper. “Excuse me, but do you know where Dr. Whyte is at the moment?”
“She just went that way.” The girl pointed.
Just around the corner, Stephanie spoke to a pair of men in suits clutching attaché cases. She took one look at the blood on Elise’s shirt and excused herself, ushering James and Elise into an empty room.
“What happened?” the doctor asked, snapping on a pair of blue latex gloves.
“I got in a fight. Something—someone—hit me in the back of the head.”
Stephanie nodded. “Sit.”
Elise perched herself on the bed, and Stephanie drew a chair up to her side. The doctor thumbed open Elise’s eyelids. She had a second to register Stephanie’s badge—Dr. Whyte, with so many degrees after her name they almost didn’t fit—before a bright light blinded her.
“What year is it?”
“Two thousand nine.”
“Hold still. What’s your full name?”
“Elise Christine Kavanagh.”
Stephanie shone the light in her other eye. “Good. Move your arms. Good. And your legs.” She grabbed a blood pressure cuff off the wall and gestured for Elise to remove her coat. “Hold still for a minute.”
“Is she okay?” James asked, hovering nearby as Stephanie worked.
After a handful of quiet seconds, the doctor took the stethoscope out of her ears again and removed the cuff. “If someone was trying to hurt you badly, they failed. Here, have a couple of these.” Stephanie pulled a bottle of extra-strength headache medicine out of her pocket. “For the next few days, you need to watch out for headaches, sudden fatigue, difficulties with speech or sight. If you experience any of these symptoms, call an ambulance. What happened to your abdomen?”
“Fight with a rabid badger,” she said curtly. “Do you have time to look at it or not?”
“I could be spending this time making friends with the directors.” Stephanie pressed a thermometer to Elise’s forehead. “You’re surprisingly healthy for fighting badgers. Take off your shirt and lay back.” She grit her teeth and lifted her shirt over her head. The skin below her strapless bra was torn and bloody. Purple bruises were rapidly rising on her torso. “When did you get in this fight?”
“Just a few minutes ago.”
“Interesting. This looks hours old.” Stephanie probed Elise’s stomach with her fingers. “Did you two get what we need?”
“Yes,” James said, slipping the key into her jacket pocket. “Thank you.”
“How did it look?”
“You’re the professional. You’ll have to decide,” Elise said. “Ouch. Is this necessary?”
“Does it hurt more when I press down or when I release?”
“When you press down.”
“Lucky for you, all this blood isn’t a sign of internal damage.” She examined the scratches on Elise’s arm from the night before. “Are you a frequent visitor to my emergency room?”
“No, I usually treat my own wounds,” she said, pulling her arm away from Stephanie.
“Well, in that case…” She worked quickly—and not gently. Stephanie wrapped bandages around Elise’s torso to hold the sterile pads in place. “You two better get out of here. I’ll review Lucinde’s files later. Do you think you can get the coven together again tomorrow?”
“I’ll do what I can,” James said. “You have my phone number if you’d like to come over and look at the files, Stephanie.”
“Come on,” Elise interrupted, hopping off the table as she buttoned her jacket over the bandages, “let’s get out of here. I have a concert to attend.”
VI
Elise woke up tangled in blood-stained sheets.
Her first panicked thought was that she had been attacked overnight. She found the dagger under her pillow and gripped it like a teddy bear, staring around for signs of danger.
When nothing jumped out, she finally remembered her visit to the hospital. Dancing at the concert afterward must have been too much for her new wounds, and judging by the condition of her bed, she had been thrashing in her sleep, too.
She peeled back her bandages to examine the injuries. The bruises were already yellowing. Healing faster than the average person meant she would be back to normal by the end of the weekend as long as she took care of herself, but dancing had ripped open her scabs. Her skin was slick with blood.
“Shit,” she muttered.
Elise showered in scalding-hot water, bracing her hands against the wall and letting her head hang between her shoulders. The water coursing down her skin stung her injuries.
Her nightmares were getting vivid again. She used to dream about the dead every night, and it was all returning because of James and his goddamn hero complex. Two fights with fiends were more than enough to get the memories flowing.
But she hadn’t been dreaming of death last night. Instead, she had been remembering the day she woke up in the Russian wilderness with James standing over her like an angel.
She toweled off and rewrapped her injuries. Normally, she would have jogged to Motion and Dance for breakfast with James, but she needed to heal. Instead, she started a pot of coffee for Betty and hopped in her car to drive over.
There were already four other cars in the parking lot when she arrived. Elise’s eyes narrowed. Motion and Dance didn’t have any morning classes on the weekend.
James’s apartment was filled with the smell of pancakes and an entire coven’s worth of witches.
Elise stood in the doorway, staring at everyone intruding on their weekend breakfast. Ann and Morrighan chatted on the couch while Stephanie stared down a griddle c
overed in batter and sausages as though she had never cooked breakfast in her life.
The doctor was wearing the same clothes as the night before. She must have spent the night.
Elise felt numb as she shucked her jacket. So James and Stephanie were together. How long had that been happening?
“You made it!” Ann said brightly. She was eating a piece of toast smothered in jelly. A spot of butter dotted her chin.
“What are you all doing here?”
“We’re going to visit the Ramirezes today to purify their house,” Morrighan said. “We’re getting ready. Are you coming?”
Elise fought to suppress her irritation. “No.”
“Why not?” Stephanie asked.
She stared back in silent challenge.
James must have heard the door shut, because he peered out of his bedroom at the end of the hall. He had a phone pressed to his ear. “Elise,” he called. “Could you please come here?”
She stepped into his bedroom. “You didn’t tell me we were going to have company,” Elise muttered. His private space was just as tidy as the rest of his house. He had even arranged Stephanie’s shoes next to his own in the closet. “Who’s on the phone?”
“It’s McIntyre. He wants to speak to you.”
Surprise melted away her anger in an instant. “McIntyre? Seriously?” She took the phone. “This is Elise.”
“Hey there,” he responded. Lucas McIntyre’s voice flooded her with memories—mostly bad ones.
“What’s do you need?” Elise asked. James hovered over her shoulder to listen to their conversation.
“The semi-centennial summit is coming,” McIntyre said. “It’s in our state. I thought you would want to know.”
Every fifty years, the major world powers met to form treaties and settle disputes—the best of the kopides, the greatest demons, and the most powerful angels. Her father had been on the planning board before he left.
“You’re right. I do want to know. But I’m still retired.”
“Still?”
“It’s supposed to be permanent.”
“I just never thought you, of all people, could lay down the sword for long.” He chuckled. “I thought if you did give up those things, it would be to upgrade to guns.”
“The summit is your problem, not mine.”
“Sure, but they’ve taken over Silver Wells. There’s also going be a lot of traffic through the state for the next few months. The travel licenses between Hell and Earth have been sold out and demons are starting to move in.”
Elise and James exchanged glances. “Do you have a list of the summit participants?”
“My friend on the board gave me one. I can email it to you. Long story short, there might be some folk who recognize you. If you want to stay out of trouble, you better be careful.”
Elise massaged her temple. “Great. Thanks.”
“Leticia wants to talk to you. Here you go.”
She talked with McIntyre’s wife for a few minutes. Leticia chatted about Dana, their first child, and the names they were planning for the second one, due around Thanksgiving.
When she couldn’t tolerate any more family gossip, Elise said, “I’m going to get going. Tell Lucas thanks.”
“We’re thrilled to help,” Leticia said. “You haven’t visited us in years. Promise you’ll come down soon so we can catch up?”
“Of course. Talk to you later.” Elise handed James the phone. “I’ll visit them as soon as Hell throws us a pizza party. Did you call McIntyre, or did he call you?”
“He called me. He doesn’t have your number anymore.”
“That’s not an accident. I don’t want anything to do with this. And you should have told me you were going to have the witches over during breakfast.” She barely refrained from remarking on Stephanie’s shoes.
James frowned. “I hoped you would come with us today.”
“Nobody else needs to know that I’m a kopis and exorcist. The Ramirezes are bad enough.”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Elise…”
“I’m going to the office to do some work.”
“Are you angry about Stephanie?” he asked. She left the room without responding, but he followed. “Won’t you at least eat something before you go?”
Elise grabbed a piece of bacon off a plate on the counter and bit off the end. The witches were all standing in the living room now, and they pretended not to notice that James and Elise were obviously arguing.
“Feel free to call me when you finish if you’re not too busy fucking around,” she said, tearing her sweater off the hook by the door.
She slammed the door shut behind her.
VII
Even though it was drizzling again, Augustin Ramirez was waiting outside when James and arrived with the coven. The umbrella on his deck’s dining set was folded down. Raindrops rippled in a tall glass of amber liquor.
He lifted his head from his hands when they approached. “What took you so long?” he asked.
Stephanie didn’t bother hiding her severe frown. “We needed to confirm your daughter’s health condition, since you wouldn’t cooperate with us. Where is she now?”
Augustin waved vaguely at the front door of the house.
“Can we go in?” James asked.
The lawyer nodded and let his head drop on his folded arms. Ann was the first through the door, hurrying inside as though she was allergic to rain. Morrighan followed, holding her bag of supplies over her head as a makeshift umbrella.
James hesitated by Augustin. “Has anything changed?”
“Why can’t you people just leave us alone?” Augustin asked without looking up. “We were fine two weeks ago. Lucinde had a ballet recital. She was fine.”
It was hard to get angry when he looked so pathetic. “Hopefully we can leave you alone very soon, Mr. Ramirez,” James said. “This shouldn’t take long. Would you please come inside with us? The weather is only going to get worse.”
Augustin didn’t move.
James went inside to find the other three witches clustered near the front door, huddled together for support. He couldn’t blame them—the house had been miserable when he first visited, but it had gotten worse. The air was freezing. It smelled stale. Every window was closed and the lights were turned off.
And they could hear screaming.
All of them turned to look at the stairs. Something heavy was banged against the floor, and each thud made the wall photos bounce and rattle. One had already fallen off its nail and shattered on the steps.
That noise didn’t sound like it came out of the lungs of a little girl. It didn’t sound like it came from a human at all.
“I’m going to check on Lucinde,” Stephanie said, but she didn’t go for the stairs. Instead, she slid back until she could grab James’s hand with clammy fingers.
A slip of paper on the mantle caught his eye. It was Elise’s business card. James slipped it into his pocket, hoping nobody would notice, but Ann was watching.
“Where’s Marisa?” she asked.
“She’s most likely upstairs with her daughter.” James took a deep breath and straightened his back. “Right. Let’s get this done. Morrighan and Ann, bring out the smudges. I’ll find somewhere to cast the circle.”
His orders were enough to get everyone moving. They broke apart. Stephanie crept upstairs while Morrighan began removing things from her duffle bag. “Think we can open the windows and stuff?” she asked. “Everything in here now is doused with negative energy. It’s horrible.”
“Hold onto that thought. We should speak to Marisa first,” he said.
Stephanie reappeared on the landing almost as soon as she left. “James?”
He joined her upstairs. The air felt heavier in the hallway, like James was moving through thick, murky water. He had to struggle to breathe.
“What’s wrong?”
Stephanie pointed. He peered down the dark hall to see a shadowy form huddled against Lucinde’s
door. Marisa.
James kneeled beside her. Her eyes were puffy and her nail polish had been chipped off until there were only a few flakes left. She hugged her knees to her chest. “It’s getting worse,” she whispered. He could barely hear her over the screaming and pounding.
“We’re going to cleanse your house of all these negative energies and drive out whatever is hurting your daughter.” He didn’t speak with any conviction. He wished that Elise would have come.
When James moved to stand, she grabbed his arm, holding him in place. “You don’t understand. It’s not supposed to get worse. She’s supposed to get better.”
“Yes, I know, but—”
Marisa’s chin quivered. “She’s going to die.”
“Nobody is going to die. We’re going to open the curtains and windows. All right?”
“No! You can’t do that! You’ll hurt her, and she’s already…” Her chest hitched. “She’s already in so much pain. This isn’t supposed to happen. She’s supposed to get better.”
James didn’t realize Stephanie was standing behind him until she spoke. “I should check on your daughter.”
Marisa shook her head. “She’s out of control.”
“I’m used to difficult patients.”
He cut off Stephanie with a slash of his hand. “This isn’t the time. Will you help us with the ritual, Marisa?”
She shook her head. A line of white rimmed her lips.
When they returned to Ann and Morrighan, they were parting the curtains and throwing open the windows. They had already positioned censers in every doorway. The smell of white sage drifted through the air. Lucinde screamed louder.
James did a quick search of the rooms downstairs and decided to cast the circle in the kitchen, where a ring of salt would be the easiest to clean up. It was also positioned directly beneath Lucinde’s room.
He and Stephanie lit candles, laid out stones on each of the cardinal directions, and called the other witches into the kitchen without closing the circle. He handed each of them photocopies of the ritual. “You three should stay down here within the protection of the circle,” he said. “Focus on the incantation.”
“What are you going to do?” Stephanie asked.