Death's Hand (31 page)

By the time the next weekend rolled around, her face and body completely healed other than her shoulder, and she finally gave in to the calls.

Elise found the Motion and Dance parking lot full. The main dance hall was occupied by a dance fitness class, so she found James in the back room supervising a “creative ballet” class for preschoolers, which wasn’t a dance class as much as a play group filled with girls in tutus. He looked healthy but pale, slumped in a chair in the corner to watch the kids bounce around in pink leotards with a long-suffering expression.

She took a few minutes to observe him silently. She had missed him over the week, even as she hid out in solitude. There was a little color in his cheeks and a hint of beard growth at his jaw. He looked like he had on any other day. Normal.

Something tense inside of her eased. She hadn’t
really
thought she would come to find him a revenant—or something worse—but he didn’t look like he had been hurt by her little act of necromancy at all. Elise stood behind his chair and cleared her throat.

“Isn’t this Candace’s class?” Elise asked, standing over his shoulder.

James looked up, and his eyes widened. “Elise!” He tried to stand too quickly and winced, gripping his chest. She grabbed his arm.

“Hey,” she said. “Relax. Sit down.”

“Where have you been? I haven’t seen you all week.”

“I’ve been healing.” She pointed at the last of the yellow bruises around her eye. Showing him her shoulder would have been a lot more impressive, but he didn’t need to know he had eaten her flesh.

James eased back into the chair, studying her face. “It must have been terrible if
you’re
not healed yet.”

She ignored the implied question. “Where’s Candace?”

“Her husband dropped a pot of boiling water on himself during the, uh, earthquake,” he said. “First degree burns. She’s taking care of him. Excuse me, just a moment.” James clapped his hands and raised his voice. “You! Penny! I told you no running!”

Elise had to hide a smile behind her hand. James liked children about as much as he liked food poisoning.

“I can finish out the class,” she suggested.

He sagged with relief. “Thank
God
. I’ll be in the lobby.”

Elise supervised the last twenty minutes of creative ballet. She didn’t like kids any more than James did, but she had “taught” the class herself while she was still in college, so she didn’t mind doing it one more time. Trying to convince a dozen four year olds to
plié
was a great exercise in patience.

When the class ended, James and Elise sat together in the lobby as the parents took their kids away. His friendly smile looked authentic until the door swung shut, and then he grimaced.

“Those people would do better with a daycare than a dance class,” he muttered.

“They pay the bills. Your children’s ballet classes are about half your income.”

“I suppose. Would you like to explain why I’ve seen Betty more this last week than I’ve seen you? As you can tell, I really could have used your help around the studio. And not just with classes.”

“I thought you would have Stephanie nursing you back to health.”

“She’s visited when she has time,” he admitted, “but there’s very little of that. Betty said you haven’t been coming home while she’s awake.”

Elise shrugged, and then winced. Her bra strap rubbed against the bandages on her shoulder. “I have a lot of work to catch up on. I’m busy.”

“Your work ethic couldn’t have anything to do you’re your roommate’s incessant questions, could it?”

“That might have been a factor.”

“She’s been here every day. In fact, you missed her by a half hour,” James said. “I’ve never realized anyone could be so damn inquisitive about demons. If you wanted to tell her the truth, you could have also had the decency to make yourself available for questioning.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for my next earth-shattering revelation,” she said.

Something in her voice made him give her a sad smile. “What happened that night?”

“Didn’t Betty tell you?”

“She didn’t have all the details. I don’t remember anything after our investigation at the cemetery myself, except bits and pieces of trying to sleep that evening.”

That was a lot of empty ground to cover. Elise sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder. “It was Ann. She was working for Death’s Hand. She tried to fight me, and they both lost. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Betty told me as much, but that doesn’t explain why I’m healing from several major injuries. Or what happened to almost two hours of everybody’s life.”

“Your wounds aren’t that major. The doctors said they missed your major organs.” Of course, Elise was confident that she had actually punctured one very significant organ, but resurrecting him had healed almost everything. “I have a question.”

“Yes?”

“Ann said that you hadn’t told me the truth yet. That there was something about you that would…” She trailed off, gazing at the smooth line of his nose and the curve of his chin.
Ann said I would want you to die
. “She said you hadn’t told me something.”

“Demons are liars,” James said.

“She wasn’t a demon. I’m not sure she was evil at all. I think she was… confused.”

“Then she must have been confused on this point as well. I have no idea what she’s talking about.” He spoke forcefully, and his hand tightened on hers. “You know you can trust me, Elise. I would never lie to you.”

“I know,” she said. “I know.”

They sat together in silence, watching the cars empty out of the parking lot. It would be at least an hour until the belly dance class, which was taught by an instructor named Kendall. They didn’t need to wait. But Elise didn’t feel like moving, and she doubted James did, either.

“I’m glad you came back, but you didn’t need to avoid me. You can tell me everything when you’re ready.”

“I wouldn’t stay away for long.” She took a deep breath. “What do you think?”

“About what?”

“Do we…” Elise picked at her thumbnail, avoiding James’s gaze. She swallowed. “Are we going to have to run again? Should we go into hiding?”

She could feel him watching her. He gave a heavy sigh. “Do you
want
to run?”

It was a question that had been prying at her all week, no matter how hard she fought to distract herself.

Running would be the smart thing to do. Performing a huge exorcism—and having a city filled with the walking dead—ruined any chances they might have had of hiding.

But Elise had her job, and so did James. More importantly, it surprised her to find that avoiding Betty and Anthony all week made her a little lonely. Elise didn’t want to leave them. For the first time in her life, she had friends. Real friends. People willing to go to battle with her. People she would die for, if she needed to.

“No,” she said. “I don’t want to go.”

The corner of James’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Good, because neither do I.”

She thought that response would make her feel better. Instead, Elise felt they had just agreed to do something very unpleasant—something potentially deadly.

“Then we’ll stay,” she said with a tone of finality.

They sat together in silence, hands clasped, until the next class came in and life resumed its normal routine.

Somewhere very far away—somewhere very dark—someone else listened to that conversation.

It had been a long time since He had seen Elise, or heard her speak. He had dwelled in darkness for some years, and although he could not tell if it had been ten or ten thousand, he longed for the succor of light—however momentary.

And then it came in a single burning, brilliant moment. He felt her power and saw her eyes blazing with fury. He saw her fist clutching the sword as she plunged it into the heart of a demon. From another time, another place, He saw her anguish.

He had found her.

He saw it was very good, and He smiled.

Coming Spring 2012:

The Darkest Gate
by SM Reine

Turn the page for an excerpt from
the next book in The Descent Series

May 1999

History will not remember one of the most important meetings to ever occur. It was organized over the course of many weeks by third parties on secure phone lines, with a time and safe public location selected at random. Each of the attendants was given only hours to travel there—little enough time to ensure they could not prepare any surprises in advance.

Nevertheless, James Faulkner was seated at the White Iris ten minutes prior to the arrival of his dining companions, declining the offer of wine so the waiter wouldn't disturb him.

The man who approached the table at seven o'clock had the slim, dangerous appearance of a concealed pistol. His rust-colored curls were gathered at the nape of his neck by a leather band. He ignored the empty chairs at the table and studied James from just beyond arm’s reach. "My name is Alain Daladier, and I am here to meet the greatest kopis."

James inclined his head in response. "A pleasure to meet you. I'm James Faulkner." He was dressed to expose his scars, from the white star on his shoulder to the fresh pink skin at his wrist where it looked like he had been bitten. When he shifted in his chair, he flashed a leather sheath at his hip, and the hilt of a long knife.

Alain scanned these details without changing his expression. "Show it to me. The other one."

James arched an eyebrow. "Would I have brought it with me?"

"Yes."

He flicked back the collar of his loose white dress shirt, and Alain leaned forward enough to glimpse the leather-wrapped handle of a falchion strapped to his back. James concealed it again.

"Satisfied?"

"I'm told you have two."

"Not today," said James. "Will you sit?"

Alain's response was to step out of the restaurant. A grizzled man whose thick neck was offset by white hair and a designer watch replaced him. "Call me Mr. Black," he greeted, taking the seat adjacent to James. They shook hands. His grip was surprisingly light for someone resembling an aged body builder. "Alain says you're the greatest kopis."

"And I've heard you're not far from the greatest yourself. You went to quite a bit of effort to arrange our meeting today."

"James Faulkner," Mr. Black mused aloud. He smiled a small smile. "James Faulkner... hmm."

The waiter brought menus to them and laid napkins in their laps. "Yes, that's my name," James said once they were alone again.

“What do you know about ethereal artifacts, Mr. James Faulkner?”

“I know as much as anyone else. Nobody has much information on the subject because angels have always had a minimal presence on Earth, even before the Treaty of Dis was forged.”

“Go on. What else do you know?”

James’s eyes narrowed. He sat back in his chair. “What’s the meaning of this?”

“Mr. Faulkner, I wouldn’t have spent this much time and money tracking you down for a private chat if what we talked about wasn’t important. Humor me. What else do you know?”

“Very well. Ethereal artifacts have three primary properties: They are unbreakable, they are inviolable, and neither humans nor demons can use their power—which is immense.” The scar on James’s shoulder ached, and he massaged it with two fingers as he spoke. “They say that such artifacts were crafted by angels under the guidance of a greater power, but they are no longer made.”

“Good, good. I’d bet a lot of cash that you know more about the subject than the average person. Do you think you would recognize one if you saw it?”

“Most likely,” he said.

Mr. Black studied his menu. He was still smiling, like he found James’s answer amusing. “I bet you could. I’ve been looking for one particular ethereal artifact for some years now. It’s in the shape of a bowl with these kind of notches around the edge, and it looks like it’s made of ivory, but it’s not carved from the bone of any animal I’ve ever killed.”

“I’ve never seen it.”

“Didn’t say you had, did I?”

“Then what do you want from me?” James said. “If you wanted a lecture on the properties of ethereal craftsmanship, you could have spoken to someone easier to reach than I am.” The waiter returned to their table. Mr. Black ordered the duck. “Nothing for me, thank you.” James couldn’t help but let out a little longing sigh when he said it. His stomach was a gnawing hole between his ribs.

“Come on, now, you practically look like a mummy. I’ll pay for your dinner. You’re my guest, aren’t you?”

“No, thank you.”

“He’ll have the fish,” Mr. Black said. The waiter left. “I know you’re hurting for money, Mr. Faulkner. It’s hard making ends meet sometimes, isn’t it? But you don’t need to starve.” He took a piece of bread from the basket and smeared garlic butter across its surface. “What were we talking about?”

“The bowl.”

“Right. I’ve discovered this bowl’s location.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I want it.”

“Then why don’t you get it?” James asked.