The Darkest Gate

by S. M. Reine

  The pressure in her skull grew too strong as they dropped, and when they reached the bottom and stepped onto solid ground, there was no ignoring the sensation of eyes on the back of her neck. A dark corridor stretched in front of them.

  It looked empty, but they weren’t alone. Elise could feel it.

  David Nicholas strode ahead, shooting a nasty smile as he passed. She considered knocking the smug look off of his face. But she wasn’t in her own territory anymore. It was the Warrens—the place demons dwelled far below the city. Even she wasn’t confident enough to think she could fight her way out alone.

  He led her to a door, but paused before opening it. “Be nice. Or don’t. Maybe today can be the day you die after all.”

  Elise stepped through.

  The room beyond was like being inside a hollowed-out ribcage. Webbing as thick as her arms stretched from ceiling to walls to form a low canopy, and the black ground crunched with every step. It was too dark to see what she was walking on.

  A man with shimmering brown hair sat on the floor by the door with his ankles chained to the wall. Pieces of white rock were scattered around him, and it looked like he was trying to piece together a puzzle the size of a small car. When he saw Elise, he dropped one of the stones. It rolled across the ground.

  David Nicholas delivered a swift kick to his ribs. “Keep at it!”

  He groaned and went back to work.

  She moved deeper into the room. Tapestries hung from the supports that kept the sagging mineshaft open. Colorful threads glimmered in the darkness.

  “Do you like them?”

  Elise hadn’t noticed an old hospital bed in the corner. Its sheets were stained, the bars were rusted, and the webs stretched toward it.

  She approached slowly. “Did you make the tapestries?”

  “Yes.”

  Something in the bed was moving. A light flicked on above them.

  The Night Hag was illuminated in all her ghastly splendor. She was a skeleton with gray skin stretched over its joints, an IV in one arm, and webs wrapped around the other. Her skull of a face smiled at Elise, making the skin sag at her jowls. The expression was frightening, but not unfriendly.

  Power radiated from her like a hand gripping Elise’s throat. There was no mistaking that amount of infernal energy.

  “I have to apologize for my state. I’m receiving a transfusion.”

  “Of what?”

  Her eyes glinted. “Fluids.”

  Elise crossed her hands behind her back, resisting the urge to touch her knives again. “I should apologize for moving into the territory without your permission. I was led to believe you had died.”

  “David Nicholas tells me you had been informed I was merely sleeping.”

  “He’s usually full of shit.”

  The Night Hag gave a soft, rasping laugh. “I’ve struggled toward consciousness for the past two months. The delicious scent of power lured me—your power, I hear. Someone’s been getting into naughty things.”

  Elise kept her mouth shut. She had defeated a demon called Death’s Hand in the spring, but only after it killed James and possessed his body. She harnessed its necromantic power to resurrect him. Things like that sent waves through all the dimensions, so it was no surprise that it woke up the overlord. But she wouldn’t admit that.

  When she stayed silent, the Night Hag lifted her chin regally. “I could kill you. You know that, don’t you?”

  “You could try.”

  “What an ugly fight that would be. A very ugly fight indeed. I know your reputation, and I’m sure you could kill many of my people before I killed you… and your aspis.” The Night Hag paused as though waiting for a reaction. Elise kept her face blank. “My numbers are unfathomable and your loss is certain. But what a waste of time and talent.”

  “Opinions differ,” David Nicholas muttered from the back of the room.

  The Night Hag glared and snapped her frail fingers. He vanished in an instant, leaving a hole in Elise’s senses where he had been a moment before.

  The man by the door cried out.

  Elise frowned. “Where—?”

  “He has gone to a place of punishment. My men must show respect. Isn’t that true, Thom?”

  It was only then that Elise realized someone else was in the room.

  He sat in the darkness behind the hospital bed. He wore nothing but snug leather pants and a thin black collar. Thom could have been Neuma’s human cousin. He was raven-haired and beautiful, but far more elegant than the stripper could dream of becoming. “Yes,” he said simply.

  “This is my witch. He takes care of things for me. Isn’t he lovely?”

  The hair rose on the back of Elise’s neck. “Lovely” wasn’t the word she would have chosen for him. Something about the witch struck her as wrong, like he didn’t belong on Earth.

  She forced herself to focus on the Night Hag.

  “What do you want from me?”

  “We share a common enemy. Unfortunately, as you can see, I’m not what I used to be. You are best equipped to kill him for me… with my help.”

  “Who?” Elise asked. She had a lot of enemies, but none had bothered her since she killed Death’s Hand.

  The Night Hag waved a hand. Thom stood and held out a photograph.

  She didn’t reach to take it.

  “Look. Look!” the overlord said impatiently. “Before I decide to kill you and have done with it! Don’t fear my witch. He’s muzzled and harmless.”

  Harmless? She seriously doubted it.

  Thom set the picture on the bedside table. Elise picked it up and turned it over. Cold, unfamiliar fear washed over her.

  It had been taken at the house of someone rich. She could tell by the fancy windows, the furniture, the drapes. Judging by the odd angle and grainy quality, the subjects probably hadn’t known they were being photographed. But she recognized the men in the picture. They had aged, changed, and grown harder, but there was no mistaking the Southern gentleman and his French bodyguard. The last time she had seen them, Mr. Black’s home had been on fire. She had thought—had hoped—they had died after that.

  “Fuck,” Elise muttered.

  “I’m glad you see the issue.”

  “Where was this taken?”

  “At a home on the southwest side of town. He was conducting a deal with a woman who has been on my payroll for years. I don’t know what he wants to accomplish, but it can’t be good for anyone.”

  Elise’s legs couldn’t seem to support her anymore. She sat down hard in the chair by the bed. But she kept her face blank and her hand steady as she set the photo on the table again.

  So the vandalism of her office had been a message, but not from David Nicholas. She should have known he wasn’t subtle enough for that anyway. It had been a kind of greeting from Mr. Black—one calculated to remind her of shared animosity and debts owed.

  It took her a moment to realize the Night Hag was talking again.

  “Worried Mr. Black will kill that handsome aspis of yours? You should be. From what I’ve learned of your past deals, I’m sure he’s positioning his chess pieces to take your favorite pawn as we speak.”

  Elise clenched her fists. She wasn’t a fan of that description. “We’ll take care of ourselves.”

  “By hiding again, like you did for so many years? Where’s the fun in that?” She cackled. “Oh yes. I’m familiar with your history. Here is my offer: You may continue to live in the city. I will assign a protective detail to your aspis. And we’ll kill Mr. Black together.”

  “James would never go for that. He hates demons.”

  “He doesn’t have to know, does he?”

  Elise studied the overlord with a frown. “What’s the catch?”

  “During the duration of our agreement, you’ll be my employee, and contractually bound to do errands for me—which may include things around Craven’s and my other businesses, as needed—until such a time that Mr. Black is out of the picture and life returns to its u
sual equilibrium.”

  “What kind of errands?”

  “I haven’t decided.”

  “Can I refuse?”

  “Certainly,” said the Night Hag. Left unspoken was the condition of that refusal: the termination of their tenuous, momentary truce.

  “I want to think about it.”

  The Night Hag waved a dismissive hand. “Fine. Go. Call me when you’re ready to cooperate. But don’t take long—we’ll have to move fast to stop a man like Mr. Black.” She smirked. “Hopefully he hasn’t already killed all your friends, hmm? What a shame that would be.”

  She snapped her fingers again. David Nicholas reappeared, and he didn’t look as fleshy and strong as he had earlier. His hair was thinner, his skin was papery, and he had to grab the wall to keep standing.

  “You bitch!”

  She was surprised to see his insult aimed at the Night Hag instead of her. The overlord wasn’t impressed.

  “Take the kopis back to the surface. Give her my direct number. We’ll be seeing each other again soon—very soon.”

  Elise stood. “I wouldn’t be sure of that.”

  But the Night Hag only smiled in response.

  IV

  “What are you doing in here?”

  Anthony jumped at the sound of Betty’s voice, tripped on a pair of shoes, and almost fell over. “Betty!”

  She grinned broadly at him. His cousin’s hair was pulled into pigtails, which might have made her devilish grin disarming if Anthony hadn’t known her too well for that. “You look awfully guilty,” she said, propping her shoulder against the doorway. She wore a bikini and had a book tucked under her arm like she was ready for the beach. “What did I catch you doing?”

  He snatched his shirt off Elise’s dresser and hugged it protectively to his chest. “Nothing.”

  “You know, Elise is very private. She would hate to find out you were in here.” Betty gave an exaggerated sigh. “Fortunately, she never has to know… if I don’t tell her. But why would I want to do that?”

  “I’m not the only one in her room while she’s out of the house. What are you up to? I left the door shut, and there’s no way you saw me come in.”

  “Don’t try to change the subject. I could waterboard you.” She jiggled the water bottle.

  “I’m doing laundry, so I was picking up clothes I forgot here. Okay? Laundry is perfectly innocent.”

  “So there’s nothing seditious going on? Too bad. I’m not up to anything innocent, for the record.” Betty pushed past him. “In case you were worrying about that.”

  She set her things on the floor and got on all fours to peek under the bed. He gaped at her. “What…?”

  Betty emerged with a shoebox, but she looked disappointed to find nothing but knives in it. She pushed it back under the mattress. “You’ve spent lots of long, sweaty hours in here. Have you seen anything belonging to James?”

  “What? What are you doing?”

  She flung open Elise’s closet and started digging. Only the professional outfits were hung neatly; all the casual clothes were piled on the floor. Betty dove into the piles first. “I’m looking for magic. Well, okay, I’m looking for spells. James won’t let me see his secret stuff. He says I’m not a powerful enough witch to control that kind of magic.” She huffed as she sat back on her heels. “Of course I’m not powerful enough yet! He won’t let me practice!”

  Anthony was torn. He didn’t like to think of Elise’s reaction if she found them riffling through her room, but he also didn’t like James, and the idea of defying him was too appealing. “You don’t want anything dangerous, do you?”

  Betty’s eyes became wide circles. “Dangerous? Me?”

  She might as well have tattooed her forehead with “full of shit.”

  “All right,” he said. She squealed.

  He opened Elise’s desk drawers. Her files were more organized than her closet, and a quick scan showed him she wasn’t hiding anything there.

  “What would it look like?”

  “I don’t think James would give her his Book of Shadows, so I’m thinking it would be a collection of loose pages with funny symbols. I know she keeps some for him as backup.”

  “Like this?” He pulled a spiral notebook out of Elise’s underwear drawer.

  “Ooh!”

  He watched over Betty’s shoulder as she flipped through it. It was nonsense to him. “What is it?”

  “Paper magic. You know, that thing James does where he performs a ritual, and captures it on a page? He’s got tons of these at his house. He showed it to the coven last month. But he won’t share his secrets.” She ran her hand down a page. “These ones aren’t activated. This isn’t enough. I need instructions or something.”

  Anthony edged toward the window and peeked at the street. “Maybe we should put it back. Elise will notice it’s missing, and it wouldn’t be hard to guess who took it.”

  She ripped out a few pages and tucked them in her paperback before restoring the notebook to the drawer. Then she plucked something red and stringy out of the dresser. “Hello there, sexy undies. I never would have pegged Elise as the lacy thong type.”

  He snatched it out of Betty’s hand.

  “I hope you’re not going to get in trouble with the paper magic,” he said, stuffing the underwear back where it belonged.

  Her responding grin wasn’t reassuring. But how much damage could she do with a few sheets torn from a notebook?

  The doorbell rang.

  Anthony jumped and slammed the dresser shut. Betty laughed. “Relax. Elise just walks in, you big dummy.”

  Cheeks red, he answered the door.

  There was a basket on the step, and no signs of a delivery truck. “You’ve got something, Betty.”

  “Who’s it from?”

  He poked around the tissue paper. “No idea. I don’t see a card.”

  Betty set it on the counter and removed everything. There was a bottle of wine, some cheese, and a jewelry box inside. She opened it.

  Inside, a delicate silver crucifix pendant was nestled on a bed of cotton. It was plainer than anything she liked to wear, and too religious. “I don’t think this is from one of my boyfriends. It must be something Elise ordered.”

  Anthony dug through the filling, but there was nothing left to find. “Huh. Whatever. I better start my laundry if I want to have something to wear at work.” Betty was already searching the drawers for a bottle opener and didn’t say goodbye. The pages from the notebook stuck out of her paperback.

  He headed back to his apartment, feeling pretty certain he had just helped Betty get into a lot of trouble. But then again, what else was new?

  By the time Elise got home from visiting the Night Hag, Betty was sunbathing in the front yard of their duplex. She had stretched out on a checkerboard blanket in an obscenely small bikini, waving a fan in one hand and cradling a paperback in the other.

  “Take off your shirt and get down here, Elise! I’ve saved you some blanket space. And half of this wine.” She lifted the bottle and jiggled it.

  Elise couldn’t find the energy to force a smile. “Maybe later.”

  All the blinds were closed inside their duplex to shade it from the harsh afternoon sunlight, but it was still nowhere near as dark as the mines below Craven’s. Her mood was blackest of all.

  She stood in the middle of her living room, looking around at all the things that made it home. Betty had hung a print of a scared cat done in the style of Andy Warhol’s Marilyn Monroe portrait, eye shadow and all, over their dining room table. The coffee table was covered in research papers. Empty jugs of protein powder were repurposed as flower pots. And then she tried to imagine leaving it behind and running again.

  No. She wouldn’t do it.

  There was a basket on the counter she didn’t recognize. Betty had already ransacked it. Elise cracked the blinds for a little extra light, then picked through the remains.

  All that was in it was a small wheel of cheese and a jewe
lry box, although there was enough room for a bottle of wine, too. Must have been from one of Betty’s boyfriends. Elise could watch her sunbathing through the window like they were on a Florida beach, rather than a high-density downtown neighborhood.

  She opened the jewelry box. Elise gasped and dropped it in the sink.

  That was her necklace. It belonged to her mother, once upon a time. But the chain had snapped during a fight, and she lost it—at Mr. Black’s house.

  The wine.

  She ran outside.

  “Changed your mind?” Betty asked, using the book to shade her face from the harsh summer sunlight.

  Elise took the bottle from the grass and sniffed its mouth. It was peppery, rich, and woody, with a smoky odor that wasn’t typical of wine. She wiped a finger along the edge and tasted it.

  Grapes took on the flavor of their environment. The air, the soil, and the amount of sun could have subtle effects on an entire year’s harvest. It wasn’t common for a vineyard to produce wine after most of it burned, but that one had, and the grapes had taken on the flavor of a fire.

  She checked the year on the label. It was from 1999.

  “Kind of a weird taste, huh?” Betty asked. “But I like it. Maybe we can go check out the vineyard later. I know you and James love wine tastings, you great big drunkards.” Elise marched to the curb and dumped the wine in the gutter. “Wait—wait, what are you doing? Stop!”

  She smashed the bottle on the street.

  Betty ran over, all her bare parts jiggling in the bikini. She ripped off her sunglasses to gape at the wine mixing with runoff from a garden hose two units down.

  “Have you gone nuts?”

  Elise scanned the street, positioning herself between Betty and the rest of the world. “If you get any other packages, don’t open them.”

  “That was perfectly good wine!”

  She recognized all the cars. A neighbor washed his truck down the street with the help of his ten year old son. A pair of teenagers sat on the corner looking hot and bored. Everything seemed ordinary enough, but there were too many hiding places. Too many houses with closed curtains, too many bushes and trees.