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

by SM Reine

  “Agreed.” He pulled the cover over the keys. “We should see the Ramirezes as soon as possible. Lucinde must be exorcised.”

  “Fine. Call Father Night.”

  “I already did, and he’s busy for the next week. You’re the only person in the area who has ever performed a successful exorcism.”

  “I’ve got plans with Anthony later. I can’t do it.”

  James folded his arms. “And that’s more urgent than this family’s problem? What happened to your priorities?”

  “We retired,” she reminded him. “We’re in hiding. Doesn’t everyone need help? There’s probably a half dozen possessed people throughout the country who need exorcisms right now, and I’m not knocking on their doors, either. I said I’m done being a hero. I meant it.”

  “If this is about Stephanie...”

  Elise cut him off by holding up a hand. “I don’t care about that.”

  “I should have warned you we were going to have company at breakfast,” he said.

  She wasn’t in the mood for a stupid, heartfelt conversation that wouldn’t go anywhere productive. Elise got off the bench. “If all you want is to guilt me into performing an exorcism…”

  “Does the phrase, ‘I am the cold kiss of Death,’ mean anything to you?”

  She froze. “Where did you hear that?”

  “Lucinde. Why? Is it familiar?”

  “You remember... the last time we fought?” She didn’t have to say, the time we saved the world.

  “It would be impossible to forget.”

  “She said that to me while she was...” Elise trailed off. She touched the scar on her breast. James hadn’t been there when the goddess said that, nor had she told him anything about her long hours under the knife. “Are you sure that’s what Lucinde said?”

  “Positive.” James frowned. “And then she told me I would be next. She knew my name.”

  “Next for what?” she asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  I am the cold kiss of Death...

  And Lucinde knew James’s name.

  “But we killed her,” she whispered.

  “Since that night, I’ve wondered if that woman was demon-possessed, rather than the deity she claimed to be. Killing a human might not have killed the responsible demon at all. Maybe it has returned.”

  They shared a long, silent look.

  If the thing that tortured her really was back... now that might be something worth fighting about.

  James opened his mouth to speak again, but Elise’s phone interrupted him by ringing. “Hello?” The only response was a buzz and white noise. Elise moved closer to the windows. “Who is this?”

  The call crackled. “—Ramirez, we need—help—”

  “I can’t understand you,” she said, moving out into the entryway. James hung a few steps behind her. “Is this Marisa?”

  “Lucinde—something’s wrong—”

  Static hissed, and then the line went dead.

  “Hello?” Elise said. “Hello?” She sighed and snapped her phone shut. “Great. This place must have the worst reception in the city limits.”

  “Who was that?” James asked.

  “It sounded like Marisa Ramirez,” Elise said. “I think something’s up with Lucinde.” She tried to call the number again, but after several rings, nobody picked up.

  Elise shut her phone again.

  “No answer?” James asked.

  “No answer,” she confirmed. “I think we need to get over there sooner rather than later.”

  James rang the bell by the Ramirez house’s front door. Rain drizzled off the drain pipe, splattering against the concrete porch behind them. A church tower rose beyond the roof of their house, the cross at its peak stretching toward the navy sky. Elise shifted uncomfortably at his side, cold and wet and extremely unhappy as minutes passed without answer.

  He pressed the doorbell again, and the bells of the church tower tolled in response.

  James peered at one of the windows by the door, but the curtains drawn to prevent even the faintest sliver of light from making it through. “Are you sure they’re here?”

  “Their car’s in the driveway.” Her hands shook with the chill, and James moved to take off his coat.

  “Do you want my jacket?”

  She set her jaw with all the dignity she could manage, despite looking like a half-frozen bird that had tumbled into its bath. “Just like when you asked five minutes ago, no. I don’t need your jacket.”

  Augustin Ramirez opened the door. His face was haggard and gray. “You came back. Thank God. Get in, quick.” He locked the deadbolt as soon as they were inside, pushing the curtains aside to glance furtively at the street before closing it up again.

  James’s nose wrinkled. Something stunk of feces, urine, and blood, like a dirty litter box used by a dozen sick animals. But the Ramirezes didn’t have cats. They didn’t have any animals at all. It hadn’t smelled earlier in the afternoon.

  “What’s the matter?” Elise asked.

  “You have to see her,” Augustin insisted.

  He pushed her toward the kitchen, but she shook him free. “Don’t touch me. What’s happening?”

  “We don’t have time for this! You have to exorcise her. You have to—you have to do that magic stuff again.”

  “What’s wrong with Lucinde, Mr. Ramirez?” James asked. “Where is Marisa?”

  “She’s downstairs, in the basement,” Augustin said. “She’s watching Lucinde. You have to help her.” His hands were moving restlessly, as though he wanted to try to grab Elise again, or throw the door open and leave, or just do something.

  “Calm down and take us to Lucinde,” Elise said, outwardly unruffled despite Augustin’s panic. But James knew her too well—he could tell she was straining at the presence of a strong demon. Not for the first time, James was grateful that he couldn’t feel what Elise could feel.

  “The kitchen,” Augustin said. “The door to the basement.”

  “Okay. Will you show us?” she asked.

  “No, I—no. I’m not going down there again.” He shook his head, too fast, too insistent.

  He pointed to the door and just stood there, the scion of a gateway he himself wouldn’t enter. Elise pushed the kitchen door open and went inside, James following closely.

  “What’s his problem?” she muttered. “He’s regressed to the behavior of a militant five-year-old.”

  “I don’t know. I imagine we’ll have to see for ourselves,” he said, letting the door swing shut behind him. “Somehow, I don’t think it will be pretty or pleasant.”

  Elise pressed the heel of her hand to her temple. “You’ve got that right.”

  The foul scent was more pungent in the kitchen, and it grew stronger as they approached the basement door beside the pantry. The basement door had a large panel of frosted glass, but they couldn’t see beyond it—Augustin and Marisa had hung a black blanket over the back by stuffing the top into the small space between the door and its frame.

  A woman screamed in the basement.

  Elise flung open the door and ran into the darkness below. James hesitated in the doorway.

  With the door open, the pressurizing air between the kitchen and the basement blew the stench of piss and blood into James’s face. He gagged, covering his nose with his sleeve. The screaming had grown much clearer. He could almost make out words.

  Even with the door open, the light did little to penetrate the darkness below. He made his way down the steep stairs, keeping a hand on the railing and the other over his face. The sounds of a scuffle echoed up the stairway.

  The screams intensified, and then cut off. Something heavy struck the other side of the wall.

  “Elise?” James called, quickening his pace. “Marisa?”

  His eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he could make out a short hallway, a door set in the unfinished wall. The walls were only partially insulated, and James could hear the shrieks inside all too clearly.

&
nbsp; Marisa stood on the other side of the door, sobbing over a stuffed rabbit. The stench was the worst down here, and he could instantly see why—feces were smeared on the unpainted wall, although it wasn’t entirely excrement; some of it also appeared to be fresh blood, brownish black in the dim lighting provided by lone bulb.

  Elise struggled with a growling blur. Claws lashed at her face, and she ducked, catching its wrist and twisting it behind its body. She put a foot on its bare back and pressed it to the ground, unwinding a rope she had coiled around her arm. It occurred to James that the beast was clothed, and he wondered why something like that would bother to dress itself.

  It took James a full second to grasp that the beast with which Elise fought wasn’t a demon—it was Lucinde.

  She knelt on the girl’s back, tangling the rope around Lucinde’s body. Elise swiftly tied it off, securing it to a pipe jutting out of the wall. Lucinde kicked and thrashed. She looked more like a wildcat trying to escape than a human child.

  Elise grabbed a piece of dirty cloth that had been laying nearby and stuck it in Lucinde’s screaming mouth.

  The little girl paused, as though to gather her strength, and then strained against the ropes anew. She shrieked and wailed, chewing at the gag and slipping a black tongue around the cloth. Elise backed off, letting the light fall on Lucinde’s face. A symbol burned on Lucinde’s forehead like her skull had been branded.

  “How did this happen?” Elise demanded.

  Marisa wept, smothering her face with her hands. “My baby… my little girl…”

  As she sobbed louder, Lucinde screamed louder as well, throwing her head back. Her neck strained, and purple veins bulged from her throat. The gag did little to muffle the sound.

  Elise grabbed Marisa’s shoulders. “I can’t help your daughter unless you talk to me. Did you see someone come in here? Did somebody, or something, come into your house?”

  Marisa shook her head, and she kept shaking it, her entire body trembling. Her cheeks ran with tears and her chokehold tightened on the stuffed animal until it looked like it might burst at the seams.

  “For the love of God,” James said. He swept out of the room, but Lucinde’s screams followed him up the stairs and echoed against the walls of the basement.

  Augustin stood at the door upstairs, leaning heavily on the counter. He had calmed in the minutes since James had gone downstairs, but not without help; he clutched a large glass of alcohol in one hand and a bottle in the other. It was cold inside the house, but Augustin was drenched in sweat. Damp patches stained his shirt at the chest and arm pits.

  “When did she get like this?” James asked. “Your wife is incoherent.”

  Augustin gazed into the amber fluid in his glass, swirling the ice in circles. He was silent for a time, but his mouth moved as though he chewed the words he considered speaking.

  “She had grown quieter. We thought she was improving after your ritual... thing. I even went into work for a couple hours. Marisa stayed home with… with Lucinde.”

  He took a long drink and wiped his mouth. His eyes were watery and red.

  “She stopped moving. She stopped breathing. We thought she had fallen asleep, and we were glad. I mean, she hadn’t slept in days. All she would do is crouch in her bedroom like some goddamn animal and scratch at the walls and eat flies. She was eating flies, for fuck’s sake. She was catching them and smashing them and eating them and we were so happy when she fell asleep.” He drew in a shuddering breath. “When we thought she fell asleep.”

  “What happened?”

  “She wasn’t asleep.” Augustin laughed, and it turned into a sob. “She wasn’t asleep. My God, she stopped breathing. Her skin had been hot for weeks and all of a sudden she was cold.” His eyes met James’s, and the pain in them was so harsh, so raw, that he had to fight not to look away.

  “Are you saying she…?”

  “My daughter died, Mr. Faulkner. I don’t have to be a doctor to know that.” He laughed again. “My daughter died. My little girl…” Augustin spun suddenly and hurled the glass into the sink. It shattered, shards of thunder crashing into stainless steel.

  Augustin moved toward the sink, raising his arm as though he was going to smash the bottle too. He stopped short, breathing hard.

  “God!” he cried, burying his face in his hand. He smacked the bottle against the counter, and the bottom cracked. Alcohol bled across the marble and dripped onto the floor. “But she didn’t stay dead. She didn’t stay. We were sitting by her, getting ready to call the hospital, resigning ourselves to what we had known was coming for—since—ever since she was born.”

  “But she wasn’t dead,” James prompted.

  “Oh, she was dead, all right,” Augustin said. “But she woke up, and all of a sudden she was worse than before. She got that shit on her forehead and she was screaming words I don’t understand, and she ripped off her bed post trying to escape when we tied her down. We had to move her to the basement to keep her from getting outside. She’s an animal. She’s not human anymore.”

  Elise came up from the basement, a few shades paler than when she had gone down. She shut the door, and the screams became nearly inaudible again.

  “James, we have to talk,” she said.

  He nodded. “You’re right.” He faced Augustin. “Elise and I need to discuss the… options.”

  “You won’t leave,” Augustin said. “You’re not just going to disappear.”

  “We’ll be right outside. We just need to talk.”

  “Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

  He watched them go with frightened eyes, as though he didn’t quite believe them. For being a powerful lawyer, he suddenly seemed very, very small. And that scared James more than Lucinde’s screams ever could.

  They stood under the shelter of the eaves, just beyond the light of the house. The neighborhood was completely silent and every house was dark. It was as though everybody had spontaneously gone out of town. Not a single car passed. The silence felt unnaturally heavy.

  Elise glared at James. Her pale face glowed in the light that peeked through the curtains.

  “I’m not going to do it.”

  “There’s a little girl in there that will die if we don’t help her,” James said.

  “I could die, too. Hell, so could you. Do you think the life of some kid is worth more than yours? We’ve seen possessions leap between bodies before.”

  “It only happened once. You can control it.”

  “Once was more than enough.”

  James stared at her. It was like he was speaking to a stranger.

  It felt so long ago since they had traveled the world together to fight evil. The two of them against the world—that was how it had always been. They had rightfully earned a reputation for being amongst the best of the kopes and aspes.

  A chasm had since opened between them since then—a chasm formed of people like Betty, Stephanie, and Anthony.

  For some reason, James suddenly remembered the day he found her in the wilderness surrounded by bodies. Elise claimed she couldn’t remember whether she killed them or not. He had only asked once, afraid she would tell him the truth. James didn’t want to know anymore.

  “You wouldn’t have turned the Ramirezes away five years ago,” he said.

  “Five years is a long time.” Elise stuffed her hands into her pockets. “I think the demon is after witches. Marisa’s a strong witch, and Lucinde’s showing signs of having a similar gift. Those fiends were also after a witch at Eloquent Blood. If what Lucinde said is right, you’re next, and you’re probably the most powerful witch in the entire country.”

  “Is that why you don’t want to be involved? Because you’re concerned I’ll be hurt?”

  Her eyes flashed. “Don’t say that like it’s some small thing. Of course I’m worried about you. What the hell do you expect?”

  “I can take care of myself, Elise.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t think they want the witch alive. Lucinde fee
ls like the body at the hospital did.” She touched her temples. “I think she died. That’s what changed today.”

  James’s fists clenched. He stared at the gray sky and the pouring rain.

  When he spoke, his voice was low and tense. “You have to do it. You can’t leave them like this.”

  “But it’s that death demon again. I know it.”

  “I know it, too.” James reached out and took her hand. Elise’s gloves were damp. “Please. If you won’t do it for them, then do it for me.”

  She glared at him. “Sometimes you’re a real bastard, James Faulkner. You know that?”

  Elise went inside before he could think of a response.

  They stood before Augustin and Marisa, dripping rainwater and mud onto the kitchen floor. Marisa had stopped crying. She stared at nothing, but Augustin focused on James and Elise, his eyes ringed with dark bruises.

  “I’ll do it,” Elise said. “I’ll exorcise her.”

  “And God help us all,” James murmured.

  X

  James half expected Elise to vanish completely when she left. When she returned forty-five minutes later equipped with an MP3 recorder and her golden chain of charms, relief overwhelmed him.

  A grimace stretched across her lips when she walked through the door, but by the time Augustin and Marisa turned to greet the woman they viewed as their last potential savior, she blanked her expression.

  “I’ve got everything I need,” she said.

  “We’re almost done as well,” James said, gesturing to the paperwork he had been going over with Augustin. “We only need your signature.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A contract assuring that you’re relieved of liability in the event of any ritual-related accidents,” Augustin said. His face was purplish and dripping with sweat. He had discarded the pretenses of drinking from a glass and clutched a half-empty bottle of whiskey now, which Marisa had been sharing for the last fifteen minutes. “James insisted upon it. He seemed concerned the we would—we might press charges if Lucinde was accidentally hurt.”

  “We wouldn’t,” Marisa added quickly.

  “Where do I sign?”