The Descent Series, Books 1-3: Death's Hand, The Darkest Gate, and Dark Union (The Descent Series, Volume 1) (41 page)

Mr. Black wasn’t sweating. “A deal’s a deal, Mr. Faulkner. You know that better than anyone else.”

“What do you know?” James asked, turning pale.

“I’ve done my research.”

Before they could say anything else, Elise released the clip and offered the unloaded gun to Mr. Black. “When you do it, I want to be there,” she said.

“Surprises again and again.” He tucked the gun in his jacket with a scowl. It twisted his face into hard, frightening lines. “I don’t think I like surprises.”

Elise pocketed the clip. “I don’t like being treated like I’m stupid.”

Alain reappeared shortly holding a canvas bag that was almost as muddy as she was. At Elise’s gesture, he handed it to James, who looked inside. “It seems to be more than enough,” he said hesitantly, thumbing through a stack of money bound by a rubber band. “But Elise, you shouldn’t—”

She gave Alain the bowl.

And just like that, Mr. Black was all smiles again. “Wonderful. We’ll be in contact.”

They walked away. James shook, as though fighting the urge to run after them. “Do you have any idea what they can do with that thing? Don’t you realize what could happen?”

“Yes,” she said simply.

He waited to speak again until both of the other men had gotten into their car, which was parked on the far end of the hill. The headlights receded into the distance. “I thought you were going to let him kill me.”

She turned on him. “What’s wrong with you? Why won’t you leave me alone?”

“Excuse me?”

“You follow me everywhere. Always. Ever since Russia. There’s no reason for it. Go home!” She flung out an arm, gesturing vaguely toward the horizon. “You’re not the one who has to run and hide!”

“Your enemies are mine, Elise, and we’re safer together than we are apart. You must realize this by now.”

“Following me to get an ethereal artifact? That’s safe?”

“Perhaps it wasn’t the best-conceived plan,” he muttered. “You can hardly blame me. I was worried about you.”

“Worried. About me.”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

She opened her mouth. Closed it again. The breeze lifted, blowing the hair back from his face. James’s expression was open and honest, as earnest as it had ever been, and she couldn’t think of a response.

She turned to head back to the motel.

As always, he followed.

JUNE 1999

D
r. Kingsley called
several days later to say that he had the results of Elise’s tests.

They met in his private office, which was decorated with hanging herbs and crystals. He shut the door and locked it behind them. “I don’t want anyone to intrude. I haven’t discussed your karyotype test with anyone else in the practice,” the doctor explained as they sat. “I discovered something… unusual.”

“Is something wrong?” James asked.

“No, no. Nothing is technically ‘wrong.’ I had my theories about what could cause a female kopis, but… well, the tests were informative.”

“How so?”

“Some things are not surprising. First of all, you have a myostatin deficiency, which means you build muscle easily. That’s an expected trait among kopides. What’s more surprising is that you’re completely androgen insensitive. Do you know what that means?” he asked. Elise shook her head. “Genetically, you have one X chromosome and one Y chromosome, like a man, but all the physical characteristics of a woman.”

Elise’s eyes widened. “I’m a man?”

“No. You’re a woman with an intersex condition.”

“I don’t understand.”

Neither did James. “Is that why she’s never…?”

“You’ll never menstruate because you don’t have a uterus or ovaries, Miss Kavanagh. That means children aren’t in your future, either. This explains so much about kopides.” Dr. Kingsley rubbed his hands together, face bright with excitement. “We might want to consider surgically removing—”

Sudden motion cut him off. Elise shoved her chair back and stood, face red.

Her mouth opened, like she wanted to say something, but nothing came out. She gave James a helpless look before leaving the room without a word.

Dr. Kingsley blinked rapidly, as though trying to decide what might have upset his new favorite patient. “You couldn’t have been more sensitive about that?” James asked.

“What do you mean?”

He had just told a teenage girl that she was not, strictly speaking, a teenage girl, and that she would never have children. And he didn’t understand why that might be distressing.

James stood. “Thank you for your assistance. Forward the bill to my coven. I don’t think we’ll need further help.”

“But… there are other tests I want to run.” The doctor moved in front of the door, preventing him from leaving. “Do you realize what this means? The impact this could have on our scientific understanding of supernatural phenomena? If we could just do exploratory surgery…”

Anger swelled in him. He grabbed the doctor’s shirt in a fist and shoved their faces close together. James wasn’t imposing, but he had a good six inches on the other man, and the temper to back it up. “We are done with your services.”

James dropped him. Dr. Kingsley stumbled back, pale and shaking.

He followed Elise out of the office.

She wasn’t waiting for him outside, so he decided not to search for her. Instead, he returned to their motel. Elise had used some of Mr. Black’s money to buy food the night before, and there was actual fresh fruit on the table. He passed the time savoring an apple—the first produce he’d eaten in weeks that hadn’t been half-rotten and dug from the trash.

Elise returned a few hours later. James didn’t bother asking where she had been.

“Thank you. You aren’t—I don’t—” She bowed her head and cleared her throat. “I don’t have anyone else. You didn’t have to follow me to the mounds. And you didn’t need to go to the doctor with me. So… thank you.”

He felt a sudden, foreign burst of affection for her. “You’re welcome. I’ll always be here, you know. We’re in this together now.”

She leaned her head on his chest. He almost pushed her away until he realized she was hugging him rather than attacking him. James’s hands hovered awkwardly over her shoulders. When several moments passed without Elise moving, he hugged her back.

James wondered what she thought of being unable to have children. It didn’t seem right to ask.

A moment later, she stepped back. Her face was expressionless again. “Well,” Elise said. “Guess it’s time to go kill Mr. Black.”

P
ART
F
OUR

The New Job

VII

JULY 2009

F
ist connected with
bag. Elise grunted. The chain rattled.

Her focus was narrowed on a worn square inch in the center of the punching bag. She struck again and again, feeling the shock all the way up to her shoulders as she rolled her entire body into each hit. The bag swung, and she darted to the side to keep from getting hit. Her chest rose and fell with heaving breaths. Her throat was still raw from breathing in smoke.

Elise had hung her old punching bag from a hook in the back room of Motion and Dance, where the coven usually held esbats. In a past life, it had been a garage, but it was also her personal gym in the year she lived with James. She had hoped bringing it out for a beating would make her feel better. Now the bandages wrapped around her palms were soaked with sweat, her hair stuck to her neck, and her jogging bra was drenched. But it wasn’t enough.

She leaned back and kicked. Even bare-footed, it was hard enough to make the chain groan and dust explode off the bag.

The door creaked. She spun, fists raised.

Anthony froze in the doorway.

“James said you were down here.” He eased into the room and shut the door.

The sight of her boyfriend filled her with exhaustion. She had already spent hours being “interviewed” by the police, and hours more talking with James. She had no more energy for words.

She twisted and lashed out with a foot, hitting the bag again. When it swung back, she punched it once, twice, three times, loosing all her frustrated energy.

Anthony took position at the other side of the bag and held it for her. It was easier hitting it that way, but not as satisfying. She pounded it one more time before stopping. “What do you want?” she snapped. “You should be with Betty in the hospital.”

“How can you ask me that? Our apartment burned, Elise. Almost everything is gone. I need answers.”

She kicked the bag hard enough to make him take a step back. “I don’t have anything for you.”

“But you know who did it.”

Elise nodded, rolling her shoulders out and digging her fingers into the muscle to try to release tension. She had healed from the bite wound delivered by James when he was possessed by Death’s Hand, but it stiffened if she moved her arm too much. Anthony stepped forward like he was going to massage her. She stayed out of reach.

He dropped his hands. “Come on. I’ve been hunting with you. We killed giant spiders together. If you’re trying to protect me—”

“I’m not.”

“Then who is it? Let’s get him. Let’s
kill
him. He’s jacked up our lives and we owe somebody serious pain!”

The thought of Anthony going after Mr. Black was laughable. Alain would shoot him on sight. “Go help James carry everything upstairs,” Elise said, even though there was little to move. Not much had survived the fire.

“Let me help you. I’m almost as strong as you are. I have a shotgun. We can do this together.”

“No. Drop it.”

But he didn’t relent. “Are you going after him today? Are you going to—?”

“Anthony,” she interrupted. “Shut the hell up.”

His mouth clapped shut. “You would take James along. Wouldn’t you?”

She went back to abusing the punching bag.

Elise shut him out, shut the room out, shut out all her unpleasant thoughts of empty bank accounts and terminated contracts and burned buildings. All she felt was fury. Retribution. The impact of knuckles against leather.

After a minute of silent watching, Anthony left.

Her cell phone rang. It vibrated on the table by the mirrors hard enough to travel toward the edge. She patted the sweat from her chest with a towel as she picked it up. The phone didn’t display a number, but she wasn’t surprised when David Nicholas was on the other end.

“Your first job’s tonight,” he said.

She waited to catch her breath before responding. “Don’t tell me I have to work with you.”

“Ha. The Night Hag says I’m not allowed near you. She thinks one of us will die.”

“She’s sharp.”

“As a fucking tack,” David Nicholas said. “I’m on babysitting duty tonight anyway. Watching every step your witchy friend takes, keeping assassins away, you know how it is. His girlfriend is hot. Perfect tits. Bet you’d like to know what they were doing last night.”

Elise didn’t take the bait. “What’s the plan?”

“Hell if I know. Thom’s getting you from your
charming
new apartment at six.”

David Nicholas knew she wasn’t living at the old duplex anymore. It wasn’t surprising, since they had to be watching closely to project James, but it was unsettling to realize she hadn’t detected anyone watching them. Somehow, that still didn’t unsettle her much as the thought of working with Thom.

“Tell me what you know about the Night Hag’s witch,” Elise said.

The nightmare snorted. “Sometimes it’s better not to know things, and let me tell you, it’s better not to know
anything
about that guy. Word of advice? Don’t pull your spunky bullshit with him. He’s the only person I know who is more unhinged than you are.”

He hung up.

A
black sports
utility vehicle pulled into the parking lot the instant Elise’s cell phone clock turned to six. She met Thom downstairs.

If she thought the stuffy heat inside the apartment was bad, it was nothing compared to the scalding heat outside. The sun only touched the top of the mountains, but even approaching sunset didn’t cool the desert. The pavement rippled.

Thom stepped out of the car, and she got her first good look at him in the sunlight. He was dressed elegantly in a black silk shirt and slacks with a snug leather choker. His skin was copper-brown—darker than she recalled—and his silken black hair was knotted in a ponytail that almost reached his hips.

The witch was so beautiful that she caught herself staring. She
never
stared at hot guys. That was Betty’s job.

He ambled toward her, thumbs hooked in his belt loops. As he drew closer, she saw the slacks were made of leather. He didn’t seem affected by the heat. “Where are we going?” Elise asked, moving for the SUV. He stepped in her way. She frowned. “What are you doing? Let’s go.”

“I want to see the studio.” But he was looking at her, not the building.

She didn’t waver. Elise was all too aware that her uncomfortable alliance with the Night Hag didn’t change the fact they were inherently enemies—nor did she harbor the illusion that Thom was under anyone’s control but his own.

“You can’t get inside. Wards.”

“I sense that.” Thom circled her. His gaze was not sexual, but analytical. “That outfit will not suffice. Put on a dress.” Elise arched an eyebrow. “We are visiting one of the overlord’s contacts to gather intelligence about Mr. Black. She’s having a formal event tonight. Your current clothing is insufficient.”

“I don’t fight in dresses,” she said. “Or formal shoes, for that matter.”

“Then you cannot go to this event.”

“Fine. Intelligence won’t help us against Mr. Black anyway. It would be much faster if the Night Hag gave me a small army and let me kill him.”

Thom folded his arms. “I’m sure it would, but this is what she has ordered us to do.”

The fresh brand on her shoulder itched as though to remind her of the agreement. Scratching it only made the pain worse. She sighed. “Fine. We can do it her way.”

“Then you must change your outfit.”

The idea of playing by the Night Hag’s rules grated at her, but she had already made her decision when she let herself be branded. “Two minutes,” she finally said.