Dire Blood (#5) (The Descent Series) by SM Reine Page B

Elise found herself mimicking, even when she wasn’t sure how she did it or why.
    But this…this hunger. It was like she was waking up after being asleep for years.
    She pressed her cheek against his chest and inhaled.
    “What are you doing?” She heard his voice vibrating through his ribs.
    Elise dug her fingers into his chest. God, his beating heart—it pulsed under her palms, sloshing blood just on the other side of the bone. All she had to do was push, and she could grip that beating muscle, twist it free of the tendons, drink its sweet juices.
    Anthony made a strangled noise.
    “Elise—”
    The fear was delicious.
    “Let me have a taste,” she whispered, burying her fingernails into his shirt.
    That voice—it didn’t sound anything like her. It sounded like Yatam.
    The dissonance of having the wrong voice come from her body was enough to shock Elise free of her reverie. She pushed away from Anthony. It was hard to tear her hands free without taking his heart with them.
    She took three steps back, and then another three, until they were on opposite ends of the hallway. It wasn’t enough distance.
    Anthony panted as he sagged against the wall. He pulled out the neck of his shirt to peer at his chest. She couldn’t see what was underneath from that distance, but she caught a flash in his mind. He had red bruises in the shape of her hands.
    “That hurt,” he gasped, gripping his chest. “That fucking hurt .” He straightened, rubbing a hand over his heart. “You want to know why I’m not going with you? Because there’s a line, Elise. There’s a place where I can’t follow you. And you are so far over that line now that I can’t even see where you’ve gone.”
    His pulse throbbed in her ears. Her tongue was dry and swollen. Her throat tasted like a desert.
    “Get out,” she said.
    “I think I should take Nathaniel back to his family.”
    “No.”
    “Elise, he’s just a—”
    “A witch that can write and perform paper magic? The son of James Faulkner, most powerful witch in the world? The only person who knows what happened to James?”
    “A child,” Anthony finished. “You remember your childhood, right? Running around in the street? Christmas with family? Homework and—and puppies and shit?”
    She could see the memories he was trying to evoke dance over his brain like lightning, but it didn’t summon anything for her. That wasn’t the childhood Elise remembered.
    “I was slaughtering demons when I was ten. I’d already had my falchions for years.”
    He barked a laugh. “Yeah. And look at you now.”
    Elise wasn’t insulted. It was hard to get angry over the truth.
    She pressed a hand to her forehead, trying to contain the ache of hunger. “You can leave, but you’re not taking that child with you. Do you understand me?”
    He went into the kitchen. Elise remained as still as the statue of Nügua as he exchanged brief words with Nathaniel. When the front door opened and closed, he exited alone, and the child remained in the house.
    Anthony was gone.
    I t was easier to concentrate once Anthony was gone. Elise could stop thinking about blood, pounding hearts, and the dancing electrical currents inside of his skull. Instead, she could focus on the first of many impossible tasks: figuring out how to get inside James’s office so that she could find his Book of Shadows.
    She was still inspecting his locked door when she felt a new life approach her from behind.
    “Where did Anthony go?”
    Elise glanced over her shoulder. Nathaniel was standing at the edge of the hallway with his arms folded and a quizzical look. “Anthony left. He’s not coming back,” she said.
    “Oh.” He contemplated this fact with a tilted head, and seemed to come to the conclusion that it didn’t matter. He and Elise were of a mind on that subject. “So now what are you doing?”
    “I’m trying to get into this office,” she said, running her hands over the doorway. “James has locked it down with