Death's Hand, A Dark Urban Fantasy (The Descent Series)

by SM Reine

  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.”

  VII

  Stephanie did not get around to reviewing Lucinde’s file that night. In fact, she never even made it home.

  Her hours at work were spent touching skin through latex gloves; when the last examination was done and there were no emergencies left for her to handle, she was eager to drop the barriers and delight in the stroke of bare flesh upon bare flesh. And James Faulkner was all too happy to oblige her desires.

  The wall was cold against her back. His hands were hot on her thighs, his breath steaming that spot behind her ear and ruffling the little hairs on the back of her neck. The tips of her nipples brushed against his chest and he moved inside her, purging her mind and body of cadaverous thoughts and hospital nightmares. James made love like he danced, with no small measure of grace and perhaps a little too much forethought, as though he choreographed and rehearsed his performance in advance. But he never failed to satisfy her.

  Stephanie climaxed silently, shudders rippling through her spine. For an instant, she forgot about directors and workplace politics and the woman who had died that day because her grandchildren wanted her off life support.

  Afterward, she took advantage of his shower and donned the robe he had loaned her. He had plenty of his belongings at her house, but none of hers at his. Stephanie preferred to have him over at her house, but she was glad to be able to break the monotony. His apartment had a sort of quaint bohemian charm.

  James was sprawled in bed when she came back, one hand thrown behind his head to stretch the white scar on his shoulder into a thin line. He hadn’t bothered to dress other than putting on briefs and reading glasses. He studied Lucinde’s file with a pad of paper on the bedside. Stephanie sighed. “Working already?”

  “Curiosity got the better of me.”

  She got into bed beside him. “I hope it was okay for me to borrow your shampoo. I do have to wonder why you have women’s shampoo, though.”

  “Elise sometimes assists with classes and showers before she goes back to work. It’s all right to borrow her shampoo if she doesn’t find out about it.” James smiled and set his glasses on the bedside table.

  “Such secrecy,” she murmured. “How long have you been with Elise now?”

  James frowned. “Ten years. But—”

  “…it’s not like that,” Stephanie finished. “Yes, that’s not the first time you’ve said it. You smell really bad, by the way. Maybe you should consider a shower too.”

  “You’ll just have to get used to the fact that dancers often smell like sweat,” he said. “You helped my odor a little, in case you’ve forgotten.” He kissed her, slow and explorative. James never seemed to be in a hurry. Stephanie pulled back before he was done, putting her finger on his lips.

  “Don’t think I’m so easily distracted. You said we could finish our earlier conversation.”

  “I was trying to make you forget about it,” he said. James slipped his reading glasses back on and returned his attention to Lucinde’s files, but Stephanie took them out of his hand.

  “That’s confidential. Why don’t you trust me?”

  “Will you ever let this conversation go?”

  “I don’t see why I should.”

  “There’s nothing else to be said, Stephanie. I’ve already explained that Elise stayed with my aunt when her parents went on an extended trip. When Pamela died, I took charge.”

  She stared at him for a long moment, but he didn’t continue. “And?”

  “The longer version story involves the reason her parents left and why we spent five years traveling the world. But for her sake, I can’t tell you more than that.” James kissed her again, and she was slightly more tolerant of it this time.

&n
bsp; “I knew that girl was trouble,” Stephanie said when he let her go. “So what did you do during that time? When you were traveling, I mean.”

  “It was nothing interesting.” James began to reach toward the lamp, but then he caught sight of Stephanie’s expectant look. “Oh, fine. Much of it we spent camping—borrowing tents or cabins and staying on the fringes of society. It was easier. I didn’t want to get comfortable and Elise didn’t trust anyone. You’re making a face. What’s the matter?”

  “If I didn’t know you so well, I would be extremely suspicious of a grown man making excuses to live in isolation with a teenage girl.”

  James laughed. “Your suspicion is why we’re having this discussion in the first place.”

  “Can you blame me?” Stephanie caught his hand, intertwining her fingers with his. “Of course I don’t think you’re a pervert, James. I trust you.”

  “I thought my perversion was why you’re here tonight,” he murmured, slipping a hand under the sheets. She pushed him off.

  “James. Really.”

  He laughed. “Her mother was only five years older than me, so we sort of grew up in the coven together,” he said. “Elise needed someone to trust. It never crossed my mind to take advantage of the situation.”

  “Of course not,” Stephanie said. “I would never think you would.” That was a lie, but it was as close to an apology for her paranoia as she would deliver. James accepted it with a silent nod.

  “Elise and I will always be friends. Ten years is a long time.” His voice sharpened. “So if you’re hoping she’ll go away sometime soon…”

  “She came into my emergency room looking like she was attacked by an animal. I bet it was a gang thing. I don’t like you being around someone like that.”

  “I respect your opinion and will take it into consideration.” Another lie. She decided to let it pass as easily as he had let hers, and she moved to allow him to turn the lights off. They settled in to fall asleep with his arm thrown over her stomach.

  After a moment, Stephanie said, “She’s pretty enough. I don’t know why it wouldn’t have crossed your mind.”

  James gave a long-suffering sigh into the darkened bedroom.

  Stephanie curled a lock of red-gold hair around her finger. Elise wouldn’t always be around. Stephanie was going to talk James into moving out of the apartment soon, and they would move somewhere that woman would no longer have her own shampoo.

  She glanced at the clock. “We really need to sleep. I have to be out of here before Elise comes over for breakfast.”

  “Why? You’re welcome to join us.”

  “I don’t think Elise wants company,” she said.

  He chuckled. “That’s all right.”

  A slow smile formed on Stephanie’s lips. “You’ve never asked me to stay for one of your Sunday breakfasts before.”

  “Elise can tolerate company for one morning. I’m sure it will be just fine.”

  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 covered 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,” 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 brought back memories. He was the kopis who covered the Las Vegas territory, and they had done a couple big fights together in the past. Unfortunately, they also kind of hated each other. They parted on unfriendly terms.

  “What’s do you need?”

  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.”

  “You’re right. I do.” Every fifty years, the major world powers met to form treaties and settle disputes—the best of the kopes, the greatest demons, and the most powerful angels. Her father had been on the planning board before he left. “But you know 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.”

  “I don’t like guns. Anyway, 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. That had been one of the reasons Elise and McIntyre fought. She thought it was irresponsible for a kopis to have a family. He thought she was a raging bitch. They were probably both right.

  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 when 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.”

  “You should be glad we have forewarning.”

  “I don’t want anything to do with this. You should have told me you were going to have some of the witches over during breakfast.” She barely refrained from remarking on Stephanie’s shoes.

  “I hoped you would come with us today.”

  “No. I don’t want anyone else knowing I’m a kopis and exorcist. The Ramirezes are bad enough.”

  He saw that she was looking at the shoes and sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Elise...”

  “I’m going to the office to do some work.”

  “Are you angry about Stephanie?” 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.

  VIII

  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.