Dark Union (The Descent Series) (14 page)

BOOK: Dark Union (The Descent Series)
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T
here were three
messages waiting on Elise’s answering service when they returned to Reno. The first was a rather optimistic update from James, who was letting her know that his flight would be late—not that she was planning on seeing him when he returned—and the second message was six seconds of silence, followed by a click.

The third message had been left just a few minutes earlier. Elise couldn’t understand the first thing the caller whispered, but what she did make out was chilling: “He’s back.” Neuma’s voice was muffled. Judging by the sound of rubbing cloth, the phone must have been in her pocket. “Please, Elise—he’s back. He’s got the club.”

And then it cut off.

Elise considered the phone in her hand. Neuma had known it was coming. She had asked for help, and Elise had refused. Her choice had left the casino and the gate beneath it exposed to attack.

Guilt wasn’t productive. She took a deep breath and went into the bedroom. Anthony dumped the contents of their backpack on the floor before tossing the empty bag in the closet. It was his idea of organization.

“Feel like beating up some demons?” Elise asked as she donned her spine sheath and twin falchions.

“You have no idea.” His words smoldered with unvoiced anger.

Since their new apartment was so close to Craven’s, Elise didn’t even bother concealing her weapons before going out. They jogged through an alley, took the back entrance to the casino, and sneaked downstairs.

Eloquent Blood was full for a Sunday night, but not because of partiers. There wasn’t a single human on the premises. The floor was packed with demons—every single one an employee of Craven’s, which was dark and empty upstairs. They cowered in a cluster on the dance floor.

Elise studied the situation from the spotlight scaffolding. There was an ugly demon on the stage, leather-skinned and clawed, and he wore a crown of iron spikes. It had to be Zohak.

Neuma stood beside him, eyes lowered, legs bloodied, and a tray of drinks in her hands. He had been snacking on her again.

“If I jumped to the next scaffold, I’d be in range for a clear shot,” Anthony whispered, pulling the shotgun from his scabbard.

It was tempting. But shooting the leader would leave the employees at the mercy of his minions, who were positioned around the room with blunt swords. Zohak’s legion was populated by hunch-backed creatures that would never pass for human. Elise recognized them as a breed of lesser fiend—not quite as strong or sturdy as the ones she had fought in the spring, but a little smarter, which made them a dozen times deadlier.

One of his fiends climbed on stage. It spoke in the demon tongue.

Zohak grabbed Neuma’s wrist. “They tell me there is no sign of the Night Hag in the Warrens,” he growled in a guttural, thickly-accented voice. He obviously hadn’t been on Earth for long.

“I told you, she’s out for the week,” Neuma said, her voice high and panicked. “She’s visiting the San Francisco territory.”

“But she has left behind no army. Not a single daimarachnid. I think you are lying to me, succubus.” He used her arm to jerk her down to his level. His rubbery lips were already stained with blood. “Lies make me hungry.”

Elise hurried across the scaffolds and silently dropped backstage, concealed behind heavy black drapes. Anthony followed.

A fiend was positioned to protect Zohak’s back, but it faced the wrong direction. She slipped behind it, slit its throat with a dagger, and dropped it off the back of the stage before anyone could hear the gurgles.

It left nothing between her and Zohak—nothing but the curtain and six feet of stage.

Elise drew one sword with her good hand, and glanced over her shoulder to make sure Anthony was in position. He jacked a round into the shotgun’s chamber.

Sometimes, it was important to make an impression.

She stepped from behind the curtains.

“Elise!” Neuma squealed, and the demon-king turned.

Before Zohak had a chance to react, Elise jumped. She knocked him to the stage and kneeled on his throat.

Someone in the crowd screamed with surprise. The fiends lifted their swords and stepped forward, but she pressed the point of one falchion to the demon-king’s chest. “Stop,” she said, and they froze. “Get out. All of you.”

“Or what?” Zohak asked.

She leaned more of her weight on his throat, and he gagged. “Or I will kill you and every one of your followers.” His eyes flashed with anger. She pressed harder, and the anger turned into a hint of panic.

He couldn’t speak to give orders, but he nodded and wiggled a finger. The fiends scattered.

Zohak kept gesturing. “I think he wants to talk,” Anthony said, standing at the edge of the stage with his shotgun aimed at the nearest fiend.

She lifted her weight. Not much—not enough for him to break free—but to the point where he could gasp a breath of air. “Who in the seven hells are you?” Zohak squeezed out.

“I’m Elise,” she said. “And this is my city.”

A
N
OTE FROM THE
A
UTHOR

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