Death's Hand by S M Reine

smile formed on Stephanie’s lips. “You’ve never asked me to stay for one of your Sunday breakfasts before.”
    “Elise can tolerate company for one morning. I’m sure it will be just fine.”
     
     
    Elise woke up tangled in blood-stained sheets.
    Her first panicked thought was that she had been attacked overnight. She found the dagger under her pillow and gripped it like a teddy bear, staring around for signs of danger.
    When nothing jumped out, she finally remembered her visit to the hospital. Dancing at the concert afterward must have been too much for her new wounds, and judging by the condition of her bed, she had been thrashing in her sleep, too.
    She peeled back her bandages to examine the injuries. The bruises were already yellowing. Healing faster than the average person meant she would be back to normal by the end of the weekend as long as she took care of herself, but dancing had ripped open her scabs. Her skin was slick with blood.
    “Shit,” she muttered.
    Elise showered in scalding-hot water, bracing her hands against the wall and letting her head hang between her shoulders. The water coursing down her skin stung her injuries.
    Her nightmares were getting vivid again. She used to dream about the dead every night, and it was all returning because of James and his goddamn hero complex. Two fights with fiends were more than enough to get the memories flowing.
    But she hadn’t been dreaming of death last night. Instead, she had been remembering the day she woke up in the Russian wilderness with James standing over her like an angel.
    She toweled off and rewrapped her injuries. Normally, she would have jogged to Motion and Dance for breakfast with James, but she needed to heal. Instead, she started a pot of coffee for Betty and hopped in her car to drive over.
    There were already four other cars in the parking lot when she arrived. Elise’s eyes narrowed. Motion and Dance didn’t have any morning classes on the weekend.
    James’s apartment was filled with the smell of pancakes and an entire coven’s worth of witches.
    Elise stood in the doorway, staring at everyone intruding on their weekend breakfast. Ann and Morrighan chatted on the couch while Stephanie stared down a griddle covered in batter and sausages as though she had never cooked breakfast in her life.
    The doctor was wearing the same clothes as the night before. She must have spent the night.
    Elise felt numb as she shucked her jacket. So James and Stephanie were together. How long had that been happening?
    “You made it!” Ann said brightly. She was eating a piece of toast smothered in jelly. A spot of butter dotted her chin.
    “What are you all doing here?”
    “We’re going to visit the Ramirezes today,” Morrighan said. “We’re getting ready. Are you coming?”
    Elise fought to suppress her irritation. “No.”
    “Why not?” Stephanie asked.
    She stared back in silent challenge.
    James must have heard the door shut, because he peered out of his bedroom at the end of the hall. He had a phone pressed to his ear. “Elise,” he called. “Could you please come here?”
    She stepped into his bedroom. “You didn’t tell me we were going to have company,” Elise muttered. His private space was just as tidy as the rest of his house. He had even arranged Stephanie’s shoes next to his own in the closet. “Who’s on the phone?”
    “It’s McIntyre. He wants to speak to you.”
    Surprise melted away her anger in an instant. “McIntyre? Seriously?” She took the phone. “This is Elise.”
    “Hey there,” he responded. Lucas McIntyre’s voice brought back memories. He was the kopis who covered the Las Vegas territory, and they had done a couple big fights together in the past. Unfortunately, they also kind of hated each other. They parted on unfriendly terms.
    “What’s do you need?”
    James hovered over her shoulder to listen to their conversation. “The semi-centennial summit is coming,” McIntyre said. “It’s in