The Descent Series, Books 1-3: Death's Hand, The Darkest Gate, and Dark Union (The Descent Series, Volume 1)

by SM Reine

  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.

  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 kneeled 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…” James 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 agains
t the world—that was how it had always been. They had rightfully earned a reputation for being amongst the best of the kopides and aspides.

  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 feels 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.

  IX

  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?”

  James scratched an X in the blank signature box and pushed the paper to her. She didn’t read it before scrawling her signature across the bottom line. Elise dropped the pen and Augustin took the paper.

  “Good,” he said. “Good. So…what now?”

  “We’ll go downstairs and exorcise your daughter,” Elise said. “You might prefer to stay up here.”

  Augustin nodded immediately. Just as immediately, Marisa shook her head. “I want to be with my daughter.”

  “It won’t be easy,” Elise said.

  “I won’t leave her. I won’t.”

  “Suit yourself.” She managed to make it sound like a death sentence.

  They passed through the blanket-covered doorway. James caught a glimpse of Augustin staring at the contract on the table, the whiskey bottle pressed to his forehead, and then the door closed.

  The darkness in the basement was palpable, as though they waded through warm water. James felt along the wall by the landing and found a light switch. He flicked it, but nothing happened, and he swallowed a lump in his throat. “I need to speak to Elise before we do this. Can you wait up here, Marisa?”

  “Yes,” she said, and she waited on the top landing as Elise and James went to the bottom.

  Light shone from the cracks around the door to the room where Lucinde was held. James could barely make out the carpet underfoot, striped red and purple and stained with water or something worse. He could see that Elise’s brow was pinched in the half-light.

  “If you want to emotionally blackmail me again, so help me God, you better wait until—”

  “No,” he interrupted. “I was thinking—piggyback?”

  She let out a breath, shoulders sagging. “Piggyback. Good idea. I haven’t done an exorcism in a while, and…well, I’m not sure I’m strong enough anymore. I could hurt her.”

  “Or yourself.”

  “I’m not worried about that,” she said.

  “And that worries me.”

  Elise almost smiled. “Just do it.”

  He reached within himself, searching for the wellspring of power that flowed from the earth beneath his feet. He caught it and wove it within himself, tighter and tighter until it felt like it might burst out his skin.

  James brushed his fingers down her cheek as he released his power. It cascaded through both of them, warming him from the inside out. At the same time, he could feel it warm Elise. He felt the churning sickness in her stomach from being so close to the demonic power of the possessed child, and the ache in her muscles from the earlier struggle.

  And then the power coalesced around James’s midsection, like a chain tying him to Elise. It was a secure, comforting feeling. Elise’s sickness abated, and James’s nerves settled.

  For one instant, he shared in her emotions as clearly as though they were his own. She was angry, but some part of her did want to save the child—very badly, in fact. She regretted snapping at James. But her fear trumped all. She was terrified of fighting that thing again.

  James’s stomach dropped out, and it was as though they both free-fell from a great height. Her eyes shocked open, and she staggered backward, breaking the physical connection between them. But the chain didn’t break. They were connected.

  Neither of them was willing to look at the other. “I’m sorry,” James said. “I don’t want to fight that demon again, either.”

  “I’m sorry, too.” And he knew she meant it, because he could feel it. “You can come down now,” Elise called, her voice resonating with power. Marisa joined them.

  “What now?” she asked.

  “Now we perform an exorcism.” Elise pushed the door open, and they filed in, one after another.

  Lucinde huddled in the corner, her entire body trembling. Scratching echoed through the basement, and there were fingernail fragments lodged in the plaster. Marisa whimpered.

  Elise turned on the MP3 recorder.

  “My name is Elise Kavanagh. I am exorcising a demon from Lucinde Ramirez at the behest of her parents, Augustin and Marisa Ramirez. It’s the ninth of May, two-thousand nine, at twenty-one hundred hours.” Elise set the recorder by the door.

  Lucinde glared at them over her shoulder, revealing a face that had only grown less human with the passing time. Swollen blood vessels rimmed the edges of her red-tinged eyes.

  The girl’s upper lip curled, baring even white teeth. Her gaze flicked from Elise to Marisa, resting briefly on James before focusing on the kopis once more.

  Her pupils dilated, and her iri
ses were completely devoured. A low, soft breath escaped her mouth, almost like a snake’s hiss. The note carried demonic power and the stink of sulfur, and the mark on her forehead flared with power.

  James felt Elise gather their joined strength around herself, and he fed into it. It built until the air trembled and her very skin seemed to be trying to shiver off her body, and still they kept gathering it, clashing against the energy of the demon. James felt their strength press against Lucinde, and she pushed back. Elise shuddered under the pressure.

  Lucinde shifted forward, digging her bloody hands into the floor. Too late, he realized that the ropes Elise had used to bind the girl earlier were piled in the corner. She was free.

  “Watch out!” he called.

  Lucinde launched from the corner of the room. What was left of her fingernails slashed through the air.

  Elise jumped to the side, throwing out an arm to block her. She brushed Elise aside and kept going, striking Marisa instead.

  The mother screamed, and down they went.

  Blood splattered to the floor. Lucinde growled. Her teeth sunk deep into the flesh of Marisa’s arm, and she worried at it as a dog might gnaw on a bone. Marisa collapsed to her knees, trying to wrench her arm free of her daughter’s mouth. “No, bambina!”

  Elise clamped her hand around the girl’s jaw and dug her fingernails into her skin, but Lucinde’s bite only tightened. James leapt in, wrapping his arms around Marisa’s waist. He tried to drag her away, but even with the strength of two sets of adult legs, they couldn’t separate mother from daughter. Elise clutched a fistful of Lucinde’s hair and yanked.

  “Let go.” Lucinde growled, and Elise jerked harder. “I said, let go!”

  Lucinde released the arm. Marisa collapsed into James, cradling her bloody arm to her stomach.

  The girl shot between Elise’s legs. Elise turned, but Lucinde was too fast. She clambered up a half-complete shelf toward the narrow window at the ground level. She wiggled through the opening, bare feet kicking behind her.

  Elise grabbed for an ankle, but missed.

  “Shit!” she swore when the feet disappeared, jumping up to grab the ledge herself.