The Descent Series Complete Collection

by S. M. Reine

  She couldn’t see magic anymore.

  Then James put the matching ring on. It was sized to fit the first finger on his right hand.

  An invisible barrier smashed between them, cutting off the undercurrent of his thoughts and lifting a weight from her gut.

  He vanished from her mind. She was blind, deaf, and alone.

  “There,” James said, looking winded. “Normal again. Well, as normal as we could ever be.”

  Elise turned around in the middle of the tunnel, trying to orient herself among the gleaming white stones. Everything looked different without the gleam of magic. “Good,” she said, but she wasn’t sure she meant it.

  Above their heads, Yatai’s ichor had consumed the manhole cover. It oozed around the edges and dribbled down the walls in thin lines. The sewers might have been untouched, but it wouldn’t last long.

  “We should hurry,” James said, but she didn’t immediately move.

  “You know, manhole covers are heavy. They probably weigh as much as I do. You lifted that pretty easily.”

  “I suppose I did.” He sighed. “I just had Stephanie run blood work for me. It looks like I’ve developed a myostatin deficiency. You aren’t the only one who’s changing with this bond.”

  Elise frowned, and irritation plucked at the back of her neck with icy fingers. What did that mean? Would he become as strong as she was?

  “We’ll have to arm wrestle,” she said.

  “Now?”

  “No. When we’re not in mortal peril.” Elise squinted at the dripping ichor. Beyond it, she could no longer feel Thom’s presence. Gone? Or dead? Only one way to find out. “Which way is the cathedral?”

  “East.” James pointed down the tunnel.

  They started walking.

  The ethereal sewers were almost beautiful. There was almost no trace of the real Reno in the tunnels—it was pure angelic architecture, from the white stone to the graceful arches embedded with silvery-gray symbols. The walls were carved with murals.

  “Seems the builders got carried away,” James said as they splashed through crystalline water that had puddled over an etching of an angel. They stuck to the side of the tunnel. Part of the wall was missing, and void yawned on the other side.

  She hesitated over the etching. “Why would they put so much effort into a place that nobody would ever see?”

  “Angels.” He shrugged. “Perfectionist bastards.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. Even when she focused, she couldn’t hear his thoughts. The rings were good. “When we get to the cathedral, I want you to wait for me in the sewers. I’ll get Nukha’il and come back for you.”

  “Why? I followed you because I wanted to help,” James said.

  She gaped at him, unable to respond.

  Help? He wanted to help ?

  She whirled without responding and stalked down the tunnel, mentally counting the arches that marked each block on the surface. After a beat, she heard James’s splashing footsteps following her.

  “How are we ever supposed to get through this if you walk away every time I try to talk to you?”

  Elise shot a look at him. “What do you want? Really?”

  The question seemed to startle James. He blinked. “Well, the rings take care of our bonding issue, so… I hoped it meant things could go back to normal.”

  “Normal?” She gave a mirthless laugh. “No, James. We can’t be normal again. There isn’t enough magic in the world to make things normal again.” Her words came out sharper than she intended. “You know what I did on Labor Day weekend?”

  He blinked at the change in subject. “No.”

  “I went to Lake Tahoe. Betty never liked paying the fee for Sand Harbor—said it was too busy and overpriced. So we used to go to this… God, this really awful pile of rocks. There was nowhere to stretch out. But Betty would bring cranberry juice and vodka so we could drink warm cosmos out of plastic cups.” A laugh jolted from her chest. “The last time we went, we got lost trying to climb out again. We had to swim through that icy water to Sand Harbor anyway.”

  She turned the corner. There was a ladder at the end. Judging by the way her palms ached, the cathedral was close.

  “So that’s where I went on Labor Day. I took Betty’s remains to the lake, and I left her there. Those awful rocks. Her dad asked me to do it. They gave the urn to me and…”

  Elise couldn’t speak anymore. James touched her arm, but she pushed him away—probably harder than she needed to.

  “I miss Betty, too,” he said softly. “The esbats aren’t the same—not without Betty, and not without you.”

  She fixed him with a hard stare. “That was normal life. Betty’s the one who got me through college. She made me sunbathe in our front yard and dance with strangers at bars, just because it was fun. When everything was shit, Betty was still sunshine. She made me laugh, James.”

  “It’s okay to grieve.” He raked a hand through his hair. “There are other reasons to laugh.”

  “God, James, what’s the point? My choices killed my best friend, and all I can think since then is…” She clenched her fists. “You know what? Everyone dies. I’m so sick of this—these emotions . I’m sick of being sad, of being in pain, of being lonely, of having to fight all the time just to survive—”

  “Then why keep fighting?”

  She threw her hands into the air. “What else am I supposed to do? Roll over and die?”

  “If the Union took control of the city—”

  Elise cut him off. “What ?”

  Deadly silence filled the air between them.

  James continued, more tentative than before. “I know that the Union’s been trying to get a foothold in America. Maybe—well, perhaps there’s some merit to that. Think about it. I’m sure the Union could defend the territory. They have more resources and manpower than we could ever muster.”

  Elise stared at him, mouth hanging open.

  It was almost the exact same bullshit propaganda the Union had spewed at the semi-centennial summit.

  Why the hell was James saying it? He knew how she felt about them.

  Her jaw clapped shut. “Fuck the Union.”

  Conversation over.

  Elise scaled the ladder, swift as a spider monkey, and left James no choice but to follow.

  They emerged behind the church. Roiling clouds filled the air, blotting out what little ethereal light remained in the city. It smelled like the entire world was on fire, and Elise had to cover her face with her sleeve to keep from coughing.

  The cathedral was a lone light among the crumbling black buildings. A heavy black cloud swarmed its steeple, but the glossy white bricks were untouched. The shadows rippled where holy ground met street, unable to move forward.

  Elise jumped from the manhole to a clear patch of pavement. James grunted behind her as he jumped.

  They were the only living things in sight as they jogged across the parking lot. What used to be the Santa Fe Hotel down the street was now nothing but a crumbling mess of obsidian. The concrete holding up the traffic lights had crumbled, and the metal poles crossed the intersection, broken in their fall.

  But the church remained a radiating beacon of light among the darkness. The walls stood strong. Only the roof had crumbled away, and she could make out the apex of the stone gateway inside.

  She stuck close to the wall as she moved around to the front doors. Her hands burned as she approached the entrance.

  On Earth, the tall doors to the cathedral were made of bronze, but they had been formed of shimmering gold in the ruins. Each panel was carved with an image of a different archangel—from Metaraon, with his unmerciful stare, to the sad eyes of the angel of death on the far left. Samael.

  Elise reached up to touch the carving of his face. His peaceful, human face.

  The door buzzed under her hand. She swallowed hard and shoved it open.

  The pews were carved of the same glossy white bone as the graceful arch of the gateway. There was no s
ign of Yatai. No shadow creeping over the floor, no giant serpent, and none of her legion of possessed demons.

  But they weren’t alone in the church. Through the shimmering air beneath the arch, Elise could see the altar—and the body that lay upon it.

  Nukha’il was stripped naked and stretched out on the cross, his wings pinned to the wall by spikes of obsidian. Ichor oozed from the wounds, crept over his feathers, and turned them to stone one by one. Each feather made a tiny crack as it broke off and shattered on the floor, like icicles falling off of tree branches.

  His eyes were closed. She couldn’t see him breathing.

  Her heart ached. “Nukha’il,” she said. She didn’t have to raise her voice for him to hear her. His eyelids fluttered.

  “You made it,” said a high, girlish voice.

  A child stepped out of the confessional. She wore her Sunday best—white stockings, saddle shoes, and a prim dress that covered her to the knees. Brunette hair fell around her shoulders. Wide red lips—the same crimson color as the Thom’s ruby—curved into a wicked smile.

  She didn’t have any eyes. There was nothing beyond the frame of eyelashes but the vastness of space.

  Elise recognized that face. The last time she had seen the girl, she was possessed by Death’s Hand and covered in black marks. Her name was Lucinde, and Elise had failed to save her.

  She drew the obsidian-bladed falchion. “Yatai.”

  Exorcist, the girl responded without moving her lips. She gave a tiny curtsy.

  Elise lunged, bringing the sword down on the child—

  And the blade swept through empty air.

  Yatai stood a few feet away, though she hadn’t moved an inch.

  You’re too late. The deed is done. She swept a tiny, fragile-boned hand toward the altar. I didn’t have enough marks to open the gate, but it will surely open when his brethren retrieve his body. Angels are so protective of their own. She smiled at James, baring white teeth. Aren’t they, witch?

  “If you pass through the gate to Heaven, it will violate the Treaty. It could destroy the world,” Elise said. “Everyone will die. Everyone. ”

  The smile was frozen on Lucinde’s face. And may God have mercy on every soul.

  She vanished.

  “Oh, hell,” James said.

  Elise didn’t wait. She sheathed her sword and ran at the gate.

  She vaulted over the pews and jumped onto the nearest pillar, wedged tight against the wall. Grabbing the ethereal stone was like seizing an electric fence. Her bones shook and her teeth strained against the gums. Her skull ached. Her vertebrae tried to pull apart.

  Elise scrambled over the top and dropped to the other side.

  “Elise!” James’s voice was distorted as it passed through the gray veil of the gate.

  “I’m fine,” she said, scrambling to her knees, “I’m fine!” Blood seeped through the wrist of her glove. She wiped it off on her jeans before rushing to Nukha’il’s side at the altar.

  It was worse seeing the damage up close. Yatai hadn’t just driven spikes through his wings. She had pierced his ankles, his palms, and sliced open his forehead. Stigmata trickled down his cheeks.

  Her eyes narrowed as she studied the spikes driven through his flesh. They were like jagged shards of crystal, and the bite wound on her arm throbbed with sympathy. How could she remove them without getting infected?

  She struck one with the hilt of the possessed falchion, but they were too deeply embedded in the cross to budge.

  At Elise’s touch, his eyes opened. Nukha’il’s lips moved, but he spoke so softly that she had to lean close to make out the words. “I’m dying. Have mercy on me.”

  Her heart fragmented. Elise smoothed a hand over his brow, careful not to touch the blood. His eyelids drooped shut at her touch, as though it soothed him even as it wracked her skin with buzzing tension.

  “I’m so sorry, Nukha’il.” Her throat clenched tight. “I shouldn’t have sent you into the Warrens. I should have—”

  “Will you take care of Itra’il?”

  She swallowed hard. “She would eat me, and I don’t want to be eaten. You’re just going to have to survive. Okay?”

  The idea seemed to pain him. His face twisted. “Promise me.”

  Elise finally nodded.

  James climbed over the gate to her side of the church, dropping awkwardly to the other side. The Book of Shadows stuck out of his pocket. She jerked it free and flipped through the pages.

  “We have to heal him. Which one will do it?”

  He rested his hand on her shoulder. “We can’t heal this infection. I’m sorry.” The second part was directed at the angel, but he didn’t seem to hear.

  Nukha’il’s wing muscles spasmed. Blood slid down the feathers.

  She thought of what he had said to her a moment before she sent him into the Warrens to find Anthony—you never smile for me —and she forced her lips to spread in an expression she hoped would look happy.

  Her chin trembled and her face flushed, but she smiled.

  It was as though all the pain faded from him. His eyes unfocused, and he looked right through her without seeing. “Thank you, Elise.”

  He spoke her name with such reverence.

  The light in his eyes dimmed. The tense muscles in his wings relaxed. Slowly, his eyelids drooped closed, and the radiance seeped from his flesh until no color remained.

  The gate thrummed.

  Yatai’s shadow oozed over the walls of the church. The stones began to crack and crumble. A roof beam fell, striking a pew and cracking it in half. Inky darkness splashed where it hit.

  “We need to run,” James said, pulling her away from the puddle of shadow. She let him move her without responding.

  A wind rose around them, lashing through the cathedral. What was the point in running? She had failed. Nukha’il was dead—another name on the list of people who her choices had killed—and the gate was opening. She could already see figures glowing on the other side.

  Shadow fell over the church. The mighty serpent rose over the crumbling ceiling, more massive than ever before, like a mighty dragon grown out of night. Yatai’s empty eyes burned in its head.

  The serpent arced over the wall and slithered into the cathedral, bringing the rising wind with her. It battered Elise and made her drop the Book of Shadows.

  The notebook opened, and pages vortexed into the air. James shouted and dived, but half of the pages were already gone.

  Yatai’s darkness smashed into the gateway. The barrier snapped. Elise’s mind split open.

  It felt like a lightning bolt had struck her crown, cracking open her skull and ripping her body down the latitude. She screamed without screaming—her throat worked and her lungs emptied, but she had no air, no voice.

  Reality peeled apart. The threads that bound everything together in burning golden lines were devoured. She saw through the buildings to the gates, and beyond. She saw the planes of Heaven, pale and glowing. And eyes looked back at her.

  As quickly as everything had opened, it all slammed shut again. Elise was still standing on an island of white stone among the slithering shadows with Nukha’il’s corpse spread beside her. James’s back pressed against hers.

  Yet something had changed. Elise wasn’t sure what, at first—the consistency of the air, maybe, or the way the all-consuming glow of the city had completely vanished.

  It wasn’t until she looked up that she realized what had shifted. The hazy line separating the angelic city from the real city on Earth was…gone.

  Wind blasted over the streets and through the front doors, whipping the obsidian dust into a thick haze. She covered her face with an arm as the debris pelted against her.

  Elise flung out a hand without seeing, and fingers found hers. James yanked her into his chest. They dropped to their knees, sheltering behind a pew.

  The walls fell down.

  But down wasn’t down anymore.

  Her braid lifted. There was no ground benea
th her feet. She felt rather than heard James shout—the cry vibrated through his chest against her cheek, and she clung to him tighter, digging her fingers into the muscles of his back.

  The axis of gravity reoriented itself to the city on Earth, and suddenly, they were the inverted ones.

  Elise and James began to fall.

  A rushing sensation filled her stomach as they slipped into the air. James swiped a hand at the nearest pew, and even though his hand brushed the top of it, there was nothing to grasp. They slipped.

  The church dropped away from them, and Elise managed to grab a fragment of wall, stopping their descent with a hard jerk that nearly ripped her arm from its socket.

  James’s grip around her slipped. She held on to him tighter with her other arm.

  “Don’t let go!” she tried to yell, but even though her throat burned with the volume, all she could hear was the wind and her pounding heart.

  Elise’s feet dangled over the patchwork of buildings in Reno, which was shadowed from the sun by having the ethereal city appear above. The wall of the cathedral dissolved in her fingers.

  It slipped.

  They fell.

  Together, they plummeted through the air. The moist air froze the tip of her nose and her ears. She couldn’t draw in a breath, couldn’t see where they were going, could only feel the rushing air and James wrapped around her and the swords on her back.

  The city grew quickly.

  Red flashed past her eyes—the ruby Thom gave her drifted out of her pocket and tumbled through space.

  Elise swiped at it. Missed. Grabbed again.

  Her fingers closed on the choker, and she managed to squeeze out his name: “Yatam!”

  They slammed into the pavement.

  10

  The impact shocked through Elise’s entire body, like a steamroller blowing over her shoulder, her chest, and down her legs.

  James landed on top of her, and there was a crack that might have been his elbow, or her skull, rupturing. She thought his knee drove into her gut, but with her every nerve exploding, she could barely tell.

  He shouted. She couldn’t do the same. All of the breath had rushed from Elise’s chest.