The Darkest Gate by S M Reine

studied the entrance to the house as they approached. Tiny markings were carved over the doorway. There were crystals in a ceramic bowl at the corner of her porch. A decorative arrangement of flowers was mixed with sprigs of herbs. Portia definitely had a witch on staff. Her skin tingled as she crossed the threshold.
    The sounds of laughter drifted through the entryway. Everything was furnished with dark wood and gold, and offset by velvet drapes the color of pine. A haze hung over the room, like dinner had burned in the oven.
    “This way, sweetheart,” Thom said. He led her to the den.
    A man in a black suit played an antique piano in the corner. A double staircase swept around either side of the room, plush red couches had been placed underneath, and hookahs were set on low tables surrounded by pillows so people could lounge on the floor while smoking. They passed what looked like sparkling sugar cubes between them.
    She edged around the room, trying to watch everyone at once. The hookah didn’t concern her, but the cubes did. Elise had seen lethe parties before. It was a powerful drug designed to give a high to creatures whose bodies ignored most intoxicants—a huge rush for demons, and often fatal for humans.
    And everyone on the floor was human. Judging by their dress, they were businessmen and politicians. Older people. Beautiful people. People who might die if they dropped one too many lethe.
    “Drink?”
    Elise jerked away from the waitress she hadn’t seen approach. She shook her head.
    The waitress offered it to Thom instead, who plucked a glass off the tray. Each of them was filled with an unidentifiable green liquid. “Thank you. Tell me, where is the hostess?”
    She pointed.
    Portia Redmond sat stiffly on one of the red couches with a drink, a polite smile, and a man with a half-unbuttoned shirt hanging off her shoulder. She saw Thom approach and blanched. “I didn’t invite you.”
    “Who’s this, honey?” slurred the man at her side.
    “Let’s go somewhere private, Portia,” Thom said in a suave and husky voice. He winked. Elise’s jaw clenched. “Let me assure you, I’ll only steal this beautiful creature for a few moments.”
    “I suppose I don’t have a choice,” Portia said.
    She disentangled herself from the couch and smoothed shaking hands down her blouse. Elise kept an eye on the other alcoves, but nobody was sober enough to move, much less attack.
    Portia led them upstairs to an office with a claw-footed desk and turned on a single lamp.
    Elise gave the room a quick sweep. There were more enchanted stones by the window, more engravings, and more herbs disguised as floral arrangements. Passive defenses. She positioned herself in the corner so she could watch the door and window simultaneously.
    “What do you want this time?” Portia asked, lowering herself into the chair behind the desk. Her hands were in constant motion—adjusting her hair, tugging on the neck of her shirt to hide her considerable cleavage, smoothing down her slacks. “And who are you supposed to be?”
    It took Elise a moment to realize Portia was speaking to her.
    “This is Elise Kavanagh,” Thom said. He wasn’t flirty anymore. His changes in mood were fast enough to give her whiplash. “She was once the greatest kopis, but now she is a lapdog of the Night Hag like the rest of us.”
    Elise bristled. “Excuse me?”
    “Greatest? What made you the greatest?” Portia asked.
    Elise opened her mouth, but Thom spoke again before she could get anything out. “They say she’s killed a dozen angels.”
    Portia’s face went slack, and she sagged against the back of her chair as if all the strength had suddenly drained from her. “Oh thank God ,” she whispered. Elise flinched. “Then you must have been hired to kill Mr. Black, haven’t you? You have to be fast. He’s got an army, and he’s moving as we speak.”
    “Indeed. We need your information to take action.”
    “But I’m the only one who