The Descent Series, Books 1-3: Death's Hand, The Darkest Gate, and Dark Union (The Descent Series, Volume 1) by SM Reine Read Free Book Online Page B

blood.
    Elise grabbed the bathrobe and moved to cover the wounds. “We need to get you to a witch right now.”
    “No. I’m fine. I have a charm to accelerate my healing to human speed. You know, for when I’m playing submissive.” Neuma grabbed a shard of glass and jerked it out of her back with a sigh. “Jewelry box. Toe ring with a red stone.”
    Elise shifted through the gaudy bracelets and necklaces to find the ring. She passed it to Neuma, who leaned against the wall to slip it on her foot. The blood thickened and grew sluggish as she watched, slowing to an ooze.
    “That’s a new toy,” Elise said.
    “My girlfriend gave it to me. She likes playing rough.” Neuma pulled another shard of glass out, and another, dropping them in the trash can.
    “Why did that demon attack you?”
    “I don’t know. Don’t even know what it was. Would you pick some of this out for me? I can’t reach it all.”
    “I think that might have been a fiend,” Elise said, ignoring the request. Neuma would have enjoyed it way too much. “They’re lesser demons, but it takes a strong demon to control them.”
    “It looks like it dropped something,” Neuma said, pointing at a crumpled scrap of paper on the floor. Elise smoothed it out on her thigh.
    It was an Eloquent Blood staff photo printed off the internet, and the former manager was circled in pink highlighter. “You sure this was on the demon?” Neuma nodded, and Elise studied it more closely. Aside from the circle, there was nothing odd about it. “Maybe it wasn’t after you. Maybe it was after that witch. Why would it have wanted the old manager?”
    “I don’t know. Dumb bitch could owe someone money. Where did you see one of those before, anyway? Those are hellborn, and I don’t think you’ve been hanging out in Hell,” Neuma asked.
    No, she hadn’t. Elise found herself recalling her fight against the death goddess again—the feel of her swords connecting with demon meat, watching the bodies hit the ground, the stink of their final, sulfurous breaths.
    She had tried hard for so long to forget it that she wasn’t sure if she was imagining it now, but she was almost certain that the demons had been fiends.
    “Maybe I have,” Elise muttered.

P ART T HREE
    The Clock

MEXICO – MAY 2004
    T wo demons were discussing the end of the world over crispy fish tacos. They sat in a shady corner of the patio to conceal their strange faces, and spoke Latin to prevent humans from overhearing.
    “Hernandez says someone’s taken over the pyramid in the undercity.” The first speaker looked like a man whose eyes had been wrongly attached at the temples. His name was Vustaillo. He was a nana-huatzin, and he made his living trafficking slaves for the drug cartels.
    “Who cares? Let them have it.” The second speaker was a woman named Izel. Sharp teeth filled her mouth in rows like a shark. “Nobody wants that dump of a den anyway.”
    “But they said she’s a goddess.”
    Izel dug into her fish and let the grease dribble down her chin. “Such a goddess must not have godly brains if she wants anything in the undercity. She’s an idiot and a fool. May she enjoy her blessed ignorance.”
    Those kinds of insults made her companion uncomfortable. He toyed with his beer. “You heard the ninth bell ring,” he whispered. “The clock’s been wound again.”
    “More suicidal humans fascinated with death. They won’t accomplish anything.”
    A shadow fell across their table, abruptly ending the conversation. A dark-haired human took a chair from an adjacent table and sat down. He wore a white button-up shirt and slacks, like a tourist on vacation, but he had a bandage on his cheekbone and not an ounce of body fat. Vustaillo could smell the magic pouring off of him.
    “Good morning,” said the newcomer. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation.”
    He was speaking Latin fluently.
    Izel’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Who are you?”
    “My name is James. Forgive