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

by SM Reine

  Anthony opened the front door, letting in a wash of the moist air.

  A small figure stood silhouetted against the rain. She wore a slicker too big for her tiny body, and she stepped inside without being invited. The girl pushed back her hood, revealing a face with white eyes and cheeks tracked by blood tears. Her skin was pale, almost papery.

  Betty took a step back, covering her mouth with a hand. The little girl had a black symbol on her forehead, and her veins pulsed visibly beneath the skin.

  Elise sucked in a hard breath. “Lucinde.”

  “It’s like that zombie I saw earlier,” Anthony muttered. “But... it’s a kid.”

  The child’s blank eyes focused on Elise. Her mouth dropped open.

  “I have James,” she said. Her mouth didn’t move, and the woman’s voice that came out sounded like a recording. “You have the artifact of vedae som matis. Let’s be adults about this. I’ll cure James of the poison, return him to you, and leave the area. You won’t hear from us again. Just give back the staff.”

  Betty glanced at Elise. She was watching the girl with her lips set in a hard line.

  She went on. “I’ll take everything with me. You can return to living a normal life. I’m sorry we ever had to fight like this, Elise. I wouldn’t have chosen it. I want to meet at Our Mother of Sorrows at ten o’clock tonight. Send your response with my servant.” Her mouth clapped shut, and she stood, immobile, with her hand extended.

  Anthony shuddered. “That’s freaky.”

  “She looks like a demented doll,” Betty agreed.

  “Do you have that notepad in your purse?” Elise asked. She sounded calm, but tense.

  Betty gave her a piece of Hello Kitty stationary and a green pen. Elise scrawled out a message and stuffed it into the girl’s hand, which closed on the paper. She hid it inside her rain slicker.

  Her mouth dropped open once more. “Thank you.”

  Lucinde walked out with a mechanical gait. Elise lingered in the doorway to watch her go. “Ann’s actually willing to trade?” Anthony asked. “The way you were talking earlier, it seemed like James is too important for her to let go.”

  “He is too important,” Elise said. “She’s not going to let go of James now that she has him. I’m not going to return the artifact either.”

  “But you said…”

  “I lied.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’m going to have to meet Ann, exorcise her servants, kill all the demons, and take James back,” Elise said. She laughed harshly. “No big deal. I don’t even think it’s possible to perform a mass exorcism. It’s never been done before.”

  Betty’s eyes lit up. “We could do some exorcisms.”

  “You wouldn’t have any idea what to do. There has to be another way.”

  “We could clone you,” Anthony said in a “you’re all crazy” tone of voice as he stalked away. “It’s no more insane than everything else that’s happening!”

  Elise took something out of her pocket, and Betty recognized it as an MP3 recorder. “That’s not a bad idea, Anthony,” she said. “But first, I have some business with a lawyer and his wife.”

  XVI

  When Elise reached the Ramirez house, Marisa was loading her car, sheltered from the rain by a blue poncho. Her face was red, but her eyes were dry now, and she carried two suitcases under each arm. She flung them into the back of her Hummer.

  “Can I help you?” Elise asked.

  Marisa jumped. “Oh—Elise. I didn’t see you there.”

  She took a step toward the garage, but Elise moved in her way. “What’s the rush?”

  “I can’t stay here,” she said. “Augustin’s… angry. Throwing things. I’m going to go live with my mother.” Marisa took a deep breath. “We discussed divorce even before what happened to Lucinde. My bags have been packed in the garage for weeks now. But with what’s happened recently…”

  “Your daughter has gone missing,” Elise asked. “Somehow, she got possessed again. I don’t see how that could have happened unless someone surrendered Lucinde to the bad guy.”

  A look of panic shot across Marisa’s face. “What?” Her hand fluttered at her breast, and it was only then that Elise noticed the bruise from her collarbone to her shoulder. “Are you—are you saying that Augustin let someone hurt our baby? Madre de dios… it makes sense. He’s so angry!”

  Elise frowned. “Has he been beating you?”

  She jerked the poncho closed over her chest. “Yes.” Marisa swallowed hard. “Yes, he has. He’s gone crazy.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Augustin is inside. Don’t make me go back.”

  “Okay. Stay with your mom for now. I’ll find Lucinde, and I promise she will be safe,” Elise said.

  Marisa gripped her arm. “I never meant for James to find out we were having problems with our daughter. Do you understand? I always meant to keep things private. Your involvement—his involvement—was an accident. I’m so sorry.”

  “Go. I’ll take care of Augustin.”

  She bit her lip. Nodded again. “Thank you. My mother’s phone number is on the refrigerator. When you have found Lucinde—if you have saved her—call me. Please.” Marisa got into the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut.

  She pulled out of the driveway as church bells tolled.

  Elise went inside without knocking. She held her breath to listen for sound—something like the pattering of feet or an accidental brush of leathery arm against the wall. The living room was empty and silent. She glanced into the kitchen, but there was nothing there, either.

  Elise made her way up the stairs, fists raised in the anticipation of an ambush. One of the family photos on the wall was askew, and another was missing entirely, making a gap in the long row of family history leading to the second floor.

  There had been a scuffle upstairs. A decorative pot that had once filled a wall cubby was now in shards on the floor. Lucinde’s door was cracked open. Elise pressed her back to the wall beside it, easing her fingers around the frame to push it open another inch and peek inside.

  There were no fiends inside, no possessed ones, and no Lucinde. Only Augustin—sitting on his daughter’s tiny bed and staring at the photo missing from the wall. He looked up at Elise and his eyes were full of hope. “Did you find her?” he asked. “Our daughter…”

  “No, Augustin,” Elise said. Her knife emerged from beneath her jacket, and she held it at her side. “I know what you did. Did Ann offer you money? Power?”

  “What? Who is Ann?”

  “You sold your daughter out. Your own blood.”

  He set the photo down on the bedside table. “Listen here. You may think you have some sort of—some right to come in and boss me around—but don’t be mistaken. I’m still the man of the house, and—”

  “I already got some of the story from your wife. Let me see if I can fill in the blanks.” Elise shut the door behind her and stepped forward to stand over Augustin. “Ann gave you money. It wasn’t a problem for you to betray your family; you don’t like your daughter anyway. You couldn’t even be bothered to be with her when I exorcised her. You get off on beating women, and—”

  Augustin stood. He towered over her, and his face was dark. “What did Marisa say?”

  “She told me that she’s leaving you. Marisa loves her daughter very much, which is more than you’ve shown.”

  “I love my daughter, just as I love Marisa. I could never hurt either of them,” Augustin said. He laughed bitterly. “I’m surrounded by crazy women. I thought Marisa would be different from my first wife, but then she started throwing things at me, just like Louisa did. And now you!”

  Elise opened her mouth to yell, but a thought stopped her. “Wait. Marisa’s not your first wife?”

  “Now I think I should have let Louisa have custody of Lucinde,” he said. He sat back down again with a moan. “Marisa’s leaving me. I should have known…”

  “If you didn’t beat her, then why is she bru
ised?”

  “Our daughter was possessed by a demon! Where the hell do you think it came from?”

  “You’re going to have to make something clear for me,” she said. “Is there any reason Marisa would sell your daughter out?”

  “She wouldn’t,” he said dismissively.

  “Your story doesn’t match hers. She told me that you’ve been angry and beating her and that you gave Lucinde up to the demon. Now you’re telling me neither of you did it?”

  “There’s no reason for you to think we’ve hurt Lucinde. Yes, Marisa and I have fought. This isn’t even the first time she’s left. But we do not abuse our daughter.”

  “If you’re lying to me…”

  Augustin took the picture off the bedside table again, cradling it in his hands. “Leave me alone.” His eyes burned through Elise.

  She stomped downstairs to the refrigerator to look for the phone number Marisa left.

  A single magnetic clip held a folded up paper that said Give to Elise Kavanagh. She unfolded it. The handwriting was loose and messy, and she jumped to the bottom—signed by Marisa—before going back to read it more carefully.

  I never meant for things to get so out of control. I love Lucinde. Ann told me this would cure her heart defect and make her powerful, but instead she died and now I’ve caused too much pain. This isn’t how I meant to get away from Augustin.

  Several lines were scribbled out and illegible. The next readable line said, She keeps everything in the attic. Tell him I’m sorry. Her name was scrawled hastily beneath that, and the pen had torn through the paper on the last letter.

  Elise’s fist tightened around the note. Her hand shook. “You should have asked for help,” she muttered. Marisa would never make it to her mother’s house—demons didn’t appreciate people who betrayed them.

  She dropped the note on the kitchen table and left.

  Elise took James’s car back to the studio feeling like she was in someone else’s nightmare. The only thing that warmed her was the thought of those six words—she keeps everything in the attic. She knew where James was. Now all she needed was a miracle so she could get into Ann’s place again.

  Betty and Anthony were still working on her miracle when she got back. She parked in the lot and watched them moving around the studio through the windows. They were almost done with the Jeep. It was parked outside, and there was so much extra metal on it that it looked like Frankenstein’s monster.

  She knew she needed to go inside and help them, but Elise felt like she was frozen to the spot. She didn’t want to tell them what Marisa had done, and she didn’t want to have to answer the millions of questions that must have been bursting inside Betty, either.

  Shutting her eyes, she pressed her forehead to the steering wheel. Everything was so much simpler when it had been just Elise and James against the world.

  She took a deep breath before getting out of the car. It took her a moment to realize she wasn’t alone.

  The three other people didn’t make any noise as they slipped from the shadows of the building like oil oozing over water. As soon as Elise saw them, she stopped.

  “How’s it going, cabbage? Having a really dreadful evening, I hope.”

  David Nicholas.

  Elise didn’t respond. She recognized the woman on the left—it was the basandere from Eloquent Blood. Tattered pants revealed plump thighs and dirty knees, and a swooping neckline showed too many ribs between her surgically altered breasts. She had strung her iron chain through the loops of her jeans like a belt.

  The basandere was meaner than she looked. Elise was certain of it. She would be as great a threat as the dark-haired man on the right, who looked so high that he wouldn’t have felt it if Elise knocked his skull off his shoulders.

  And then there was David Nicholas.

  “What do you want?” Elise asked, even though she could tell by the way they moved to circle around her that they weren’t there for a polite chat.

  “You think you can push people around and not pay for it? First you walk into my office and stab me—and maybe I put up with it because I owe you money, sure. But then you interrupt my card game? Threaten me for information? Who the fuck do you think you are? Don’t put up with that shit in this town, do we?” He jerked his head the other demons. “Make it fast.”

  The basandere reached, and Elise knocked her hands aside, jabbing her elbow into her gut to send her stumbling.

  She spun smoothly and snapped a kick at the junkie’s face, but he ducked under it and grabbed her ankle. With a jerk, Elise’s butt hit pavement. The shock of it jolted up her spine.

  Before she could stand, a heavy boot smacked into her gut. Her ribs creaked. Her intestines mashed against her spine and her head bounced on the parking lot.

  She rolled away from the next kick, gasping for breath, and got to her knees. A hand snatched her ponytail and jerked it back, nearly ripping the hair from her scalp.

  David Nicholas drove the bony spike of his knee into her chin. Her teeth snapped shut on her tongue. The iron taste of blood flooded her mouth.

  Elise lunged for him, but her hair was held tight. The junkie threw his arms around her. He could barely restrain one arm with his whole body. When he felt her shove against him, his face paled at her strength, but he held firm.

  “You don’t know what you’re doing,” Elise groaned as the basandere pulled her to her knees using her hair as a handle.

  “You’re a bully, bitch,” David Nicholas said. “I’m taking out the trash.”

  He punched her. The ridges of his knuckles made fire blossom across her face as her head snapped from side to side. He didn’t hit hard—she had been beaten by worse. But it had been years. She almost forgot the sweet pain of it.

  Her lip split. He hit her eye, and her vision blurred.

  “She’s not even fighting back!” the basandere said, shrieking with laughter.

  David Nicholas stepped back, rubbing his knuckles. He looked disappointed at Elise’s lack of reaction. She sucked on the blood in her mouth and spit it out.

  “You done?” she asked. “I have shit to do tonight.”

  His face twitched. “I’m nowhere near done yet.”

  He brandished a knife with a blade like a straight razor. A cold calm settled over Elise, numbing her pain. She hated to lose a customer—but she hated to lose her life even more.

  The junkie shifted to grab her other arm. She head butted him hard enough to snap his nose and send blood spraying down his lip. He sprawled out in a parking space.

  Metal flashed. She ducked, tearing her ponytail out of the stripper’s hand and leaving a fistful of hair behind.

  David Nicholas’s knife blew past her ear.

  She twisted and yanked the chain out of the basandere’s belt loops, popping two of them.

  Everything slowed.

  David Nicholas flashed through the shadows to Elise’s other side, and she could almost track his progress through the darkness. Wisps of smoke followed him as he vanished and rematerialized.

  She whirled, shoving the basandere out of the way, and whipped the chain toward David Nicholas as he reappeared.

  It wrapped around his neck, catching him before he was completely corporeal.

  She jerked.

  His head disconnected from his body.

  He flashed into black smoke again, knife clattering to the ground.

  Elise snapped her arm to wrap the chain around her fist. The basandere screamed and ran at her, flashing blood-red fingernails. Elise backhanded her with the chain. Something cracked—something important—and the stripper went limp.

  The junkie reached for the knife. His hand shook.

  “Get the fuck out of here,” Elise spat. Blood spattered on her chin.

  He was gone before she could unwind the chain.

  As soon as her levels of adrenaline dropped, the pain came roaring back. Elise didn’t realize how much her body hurt until she fell to her knees beside the basandere. She thought the s
tripper was probably dead. She didn’t care too much.

  Elise evaluated her physical condition. Between the blood loss from Ann anointing her house and these new wounds, she might not return to full strength for days.

  James didn’t have days.

  She got back to her feet with a groan. Pain radiated from the top of her head down to her ribs, like every bone was fractured.

  “Hell of a time to collect on a debt,” she muttered.

  Elise threw the basandere in the trunk of James’s car. She swallowed a handful of the ibuprofen he kept in the glove box and checked her face in the rearview mirror. Her face looked like hamburger.

  Great. Just great.

  She slammed the car door shut, turning.

  David Nicholas stood in front of her.

  He moved an instant before she did. His hands closed on her shoulders, shoving her back against the car. Elise’s head thudded against the metal.

  “You killed one of my girls,” he said.

  “It was self-defense. What are you going to do about it? Call the cops?”

  Loathing twisted David Nicholas’s features. “I should sell you into slavery, that’s what I should do. You and that succubus bartender bitch.”

  Elise grabbed his wrists. Her fingernails dug into his wrists like they were sponges. Decapitation didn’t do the nightmare any favors.

  “Look,” she said, carefully enunciating each consonant, “you and I can fight all night if we want, but it’s a waste of time. You paid your debts with a bad check. You pounded on me, and I won this round. Let’s call it even.”

  “Why should I do that?”

  “Because I’ll kill Death’s Hand if you leave me alone for the night.”

  His expression dissolved into a grin so wide that the corners of his lips nearly touched his ears. “I just kicked the shit out of your skinny ass. You think you can take vedae som matis?” She nodded without returning his smile. He released her shoulders. “I like the idea of letting something else kill you.”

  “Only because you can’t do it yourself.”

  David Nicholas swung, but she was faster. Before he could get a hand on her throat, she knocked his arms aside and pressed his own knife against his throat.