Death's Avatar (The Descent Series) (9 page)

Augustin Ramirez sat across the table with
his face in his hands. The ceiling rattled above their heads as
distant screams and sobs peaked in time with fists pounding against
the floor.

His left cheek muscle twitched. They
exchanged glances, and he found his own haunted expression mirrored
in her face.

Hands shaking, she lifted her coffee cup and
took a sip.

The doorbell chimed. Their daughter shrieked
in response.

“Are you going to get that?” Augustin asked.
Marisa didn't respond. His jaw tightened. “I said, are you going to
get that?” She ducked her head, lips trembling. The right side of
her mouth was darkened with the shadow of a bruise. He made a
disgusted noise, shoving his chair back as he stood. “Fine. I'll
get the door.”

She took another drink and set the mug
down.

The living room blinds were shut and covered
by heavy curtains, casting the room in twilight. Augustin unlocked
the dead bolt and peeked through the door.

The woman on the other side pushed her
sunglasses into her hair to study him with narrowed eyes. A single
scar broke the line of her right eyebrow.

“Augustin Ramirez. Right?”

“Yes,” he said. “I'm sorry… do I know
you?”

She held out a hand. She wore black gloves
with a button at the wrist. “Elise Kavanagh. James sent me.”

He gave her hand a brief shake. Her grip
made his knuckles ache. “James Faulkner?” Augustin asked. “He said
he was going to send a—uh, an exorcist to look at our
daughter.”

Elise nodded. “Yes, right. I'm the
exorcist.”

“You're not what I… that is to say…”

“Yeah, I know. Can I come in?”

“Yes,” Augustin said, stepping aside.

“I'm sorry I'm late. I was on my way to the
office, and I wasn't expecting James to ask me to do a job. I
haven't been an exorcist in a long time.” She indicated her outfit
with a sweep of her hand—a black skirt, white blouse, and black
blazer. Augustin wasn’t sure what he expected an exorcist to wear.
Maybe leather and chains. Definitely not business casual.

She handed a business card to him.
Elise
Kavanagh, Certified Public Accountant
. It was so absurd he had
to laugh. “So you used to exorcise people a lot?”

“More often than I do now,” Elise said. “I
went into retirement five years ago. Anyway, I'm not going to
exorcise your daughter. I'm going to determine if it’s demonic
possession.”

“Demonic possession,” he echoed. “You have
me at a loss. Frankly, this all seems a little… absurd.”

She gave a humorless, thin-lipped smile that
might have been a grimace.

“You're here,” Marisa said. She hovered in
the doorway, arms wrapped around her shivering body. “I'm so glad
you came.”

Augustin frowned. “You know this woman?”

“She's always at the coven meetings,” Marisa
said. Her voice trembled slightly. “I think she does James’s
accounting. And he told me they’re, uh, bound. Kopis and
aspis.”

“
What
?”

Her cheeks colored. “It’s Latin.”

“Greek, actually,” Elise said. “Kopis means
sword, and aspis means shield. It means I am—or used to be—a
warrior against the forces of Hell, and he’s my partner.” She
wasn’t laughing at all. She was completely serious.

Distaste twisted Augustin’s mouth. “Coven
nonsense. It's taken me awhile to get used to the idea of
witchcraft in the first place, and I don’t think—”

Elise held up a hand. “I have places to be.
I don't have the time to let you get used to it, Mr. Ramirez.”

His face grew hot. “I'm not—”

“Augustin,” Marisa said softly.

He closed his eyes and took a breath. Their
marriage counselor harped on him about counting to ten when he was
getting to mad, but he gave it to twenty this time. Covens and
“warriors against Hell.” He could count to a thousand and still
feel unsettled.

“Sorry,” Augustin finally said. “We're
stressed.”

Elise accepted his apology by inclining her
head. “Where's Lucinde?”

“She's upstairs. We'll go with you.”

Marisa and Elise headed up the stairs.
Augustin followed a couple steps behind, watching the legs of the
supposed exorcist. She wasn’t wearing nylons. Another scar marred
her ankle, like a dog bite that had long since healed into a fleshy
white mass, and his stomach turned.
Some accountant.

Elise spoke to Marisa as they walked,
oblivious to the reaction her scars evoked. “I need to ask you some
questions. Have you summoned any demons or used a Ouija board?”

“Of course not.”

“Any unusual noises or sightings? Animals
with glowing eyes, objects flying across the room, strange noises
on the telephone…”

Marisa shook her head. “Aside from Lucinde's
illness, everything has been normal.”

“What about nightmares? Have you experienced
sexual dreams of a dark nature?”

“That's a personal question,” Augustin
interrupted.

Elise’s lip curled, but she didn’t
respond.

“I haven't,” Marisa said. Her voice was
hardly louder than a whisper. “Augustin?” After a moment, he shook
his head. “Lucinde was having nightmares before. Not… sexual. But
she kept waking up screaming.”

“Did she tell you what she was dreaming
about?” Elise stopped to peer at a family camping photo beside an
artful arrangement of silk flowers. In the picture, the Ramirezes
were tan and smiling. Lucinde’s low, croaking moans echoed through
the house.

“She told me a monster was eating her
heart,” Marisa whispered. “I thought… I mean, what a strange thing
for a little girl to dream about. She dreamed a monster ate her
heart and sat in her chest.”

Elise's eyebrows lifted. “Really.”

“It's not weird for her to have bad dreams,”
Augustin interjected. “Especially not about her heart. She has a
condition. The doctors don't think it should be fatal, but you know
how kids are. Of course she's scared of bad things happening to her
heart.”

“What kind of heart condition?” They reached
the top of the stairs, pausing down the hall from Lucinde's room.
All the doors were open but hers.

“I don't think you need to know that to do
your job,” Augustin said.

“Just wondering. I assume you’ve already
taken her to see a doctor and a psychologist?”

“Those were our first choices. They gave us
the option of waiting to see if she would improve or sticking her
in an institution. I wouldn’t have let Marisa call you unless we
didn’t have any choices left.”

“I see. I’m going to go in and look at her
now.”

“Be careful. She's gotten… violent,” Marisa
said.

“How violent can a five year old be?” Elise
gave an unpleasant smile that didn’t suit her angular face. “I’m
sure I’ve handled worse.”

“Just be careful. She's in here.”

Elise approached the door Marisa indicated,
and the Ramirezes hung back. The girl became quieter as she grew
near. When she stood before the door, Lucinde became entirely
silent.

Elise pushed the door open and went
inside.

Lucinde’s room was even colder than the rest
of the house. Heavy curtains cast the room in near-complete
darkness, and a portable swamp cooler made the air chill and muggy.
A white canopy bed blocked the back half of the darkened room.

There were multiple obstacles strewn across
the floor: an overstuffed comforter, rose-colored pillows in
varying sizes, and a toy chest. Possible hiding places included the
closet and the shadowed area behind a pink trunk with princess
costumes draped over the sides. No girl in sight.

Elise didn’t like the room’s poor
visibility. It felt confined. Dangerous. “I’m going to open the
window, Marisa.”

“She won't like it.”

She moved toward the window, hugging the
wall, and stepped over a toy unicorn with blood caking the mane to
its neck. Ears perked for any hint of motion, she jerked aside the
first layer of curtains, then the second.

Light filled the room. Someone squealed.

Elise rounded the bed in time to see bare
feet disappearing under the bed. “Lucinde?”

She dropped to her hands and knees and
leaned her cheek close to the carpet. A pair of luminous eyes
stared back at her. The girl under the bed looked nothing like
Marisa. Her skin was dark, like her father's, and her flat nose was
offset by his same expressive lips.

“Cold,” she hissed. “Cold!”

Elise's gaze traveled over her bared legs.
Her knees were heavily bruised, purple and black and brown on the
edges. The flesh on her shins looked like broiled strawberries.
“Have you used force to restrain her?” Elise asked.

“She hurts herself,” Marisa said. “We can't
stop her.”

“Colder!” Lucinde demanded again, sinking
further into the corner as though she wanted to hide inside the
wall. Elise glanced at the swamp cooler.
Colder
.

Lucinde tried to jerk away when she touched
her foot, but Elise caught her ankle, pulling her foot into the
light. A few remaining flakes of pink nail polish decorated her
toenails under caked blood. One nail had been torn out. She
released the child’s ankle, and withdrew again.

“How are you doing?” Elise asked.
“
Quomondo vales
?”

Lucinde froze. Her eyes widened
fractionally.

“
Quomondo vales
?” she repeated.
“
Loquerisne Latine?
No? ¿
Hablas inglés
?”

“She speaks English,” Marisa said,
offended.

“Of course.”

Elise pulled the chains of her necklace over
head and picked a bronze pendant from amongst the other charms. It
caught the sun and scattered gold light on Lucinde’s forehead. The
whites of her eyes were almost yellow, shot through with crimson
veins, and a long, low hiss issued from her lips.

“
Crux sacra sit mihi lux
,” Elise
whispered. Lucinde recoiled, covering her face.

“What are you doing?” Augustin demanded.

Lucinde remained flat against the carpet,
fingers spread through the dusty shag as though she feared being
dragged away. She whimpered like a wounded dog.

She was tiny. Elise was sure she had never
been that small.

Elise leaned closer. “Can you speak?”

Marisa stepped forward. “Watch out—”

The girl's foot lashed out and the bedroom
exploded into red stars. The pain struck a moment later like being
struck in the jaw by a baseball bat.

She reeled, hand flying to her mouth.
Lucinde scurried from beneath the mattress.

“Colder!
Colder
!” Her voice was
shrill, piercing.

Lucinde's nails flashed. Elise raised her
arm in defense—but the little girl stopped short, swiping the hand
inches from Elise’s face. Lucinde’s wrist was roped to the corner
of the bed.

Augustin hauled the exorcist to her feet,
dragging her away from Lucinde. She shook his elbow free of his
grip.

“We told you to be careful,” he said, voice
rough. “She's not normal anymore.”

Elise met the girl’s eyes. “Cold,” she
echoed.

Marisa moved into the room, making soothing
noises. Lucinde screamed a long note with the tenor of a beast.
Augustin guided Elise out of the room and shut the door. Without
windows, the hallway was darker than Lucinde's bedroom, but it felt
much less oppressive.

“We won't be held liable for our
daughter's—”

“I'm not going to sue you for my wound, if
that's what you're getting at. I've had many injuries much worse
than this.”

“Good.” His mouth twisted. “Good. What were
you doing in there?”

“Testing her,” she said. “This is the
pendant of Saint Benedict. He's the patron saint of a lot of
things—nettle rash, servants who have broken stuff that belongs to
their masters. Spelunkers.”

“Spelunkers?”

“He’s also invoked during exorcisms. I
wanted to see if she would react to Latin because a lot of Greater
Demons don’t speak any living languages.”

“She's been speaking English,” Augustin
said. “She keeps saying 'cold.'”

“I saw that.”

“So… what do you think?”

“I can’t say if she's possessed,” Elise
said, touching the back of her hand to her mouth. It came away
bloody. “She's definitely got an attitude problem.”

“She was never like this before,” Augustin
said.

“I’m sure.” She headed down the stairs,
leaving Lucinde's screams behind her. “I’ll do some research. I've
seen my share of possessions and exorcisms, but never one as
spontaneous as this. You're sure nothing has been flying
around?”

“Completely sure. We're not
freaks
.”

“You don't have to be a freak to be targeted
by demons; just unlucky or stupid. Since you haven't summoned
anything, you could be the former.”

“We're not stupid,” he said. Her eyes
narrowed.

“Don't put words into my mouth.”

Augustin puffed out his chest. “Can you
exorcise Lucinde or not?”

“I could, if she's possessed,” Elise said.
“It definitely seems like a demon problem.”

“Like in the Bible.”

“Yes. ‘Like in the Bible.’ I'm going to
confer with James, after which he'll be in contact with you. What
would be the best number to reach you at?”

“Marisa’s so-called high priest has it,”
Augustin said.

“Okay. Keep Lucinde in her room for now. Try
to keep her eating and drinking water, because if she is possessed,
she'll resist it on her own,” Elise said. She touched her bleeding
lip. “You already know to keep your distance.”

“Yes.”

He opened the front door to let in the hot
summer air. The clouds had thickened since Elise’s arrival, and it
smelled like rain again. “You have my card. Call me when she gets
worse,” she said, stepping outside.

Augustin was already closing the door. He
looked as inclined to give her a call as he was to offer a finger
to his daughter's mouth. “Right, thanks,” he said.