Ritual in Death (In Death #27.5)(19)

A warm flow, he thought. Not the quick burst of energy that came from popping a booster, but more of a slow, steady build of stamina.

“Better?”

“Thank you, yes.”

“It won’t last long, but between that and the little you ate, it should get you through. What you need is some rest.” She picked up her bag. “I’m ready.”

He led her to the elevator.

“You said there’s a private elevator that opens into the suite, as well as the doors to the hallways.”

“That’s right.”

“I want to see it from the outside first. I want to go through the door, not through a machine.”

“All right. Sixtieth floor,” he ordered. “Main bank.”

“I’ll ask you, whatever happens, not to leave me alone.”

“I won’t.” When the elevator doors opened, Roarke took her hand.

The bloody footprints still walked the carpet. Blood smears marred the walls where Jack had laid his hand for balance. In Roarke’s hand, Isis’s fingers tensed.

“People think of it as a cliché.” She stared at the door where the tail of blood made a six from the middle zero. “But it has power and meaning. It should be cleaned—all of this—with blessed water as soon as possible.”

Roarke stepped forward, drew out his master. And Eve strode off the elevator like vengeance.

“Wait. Didn’t I tell you to wait?”

“And so I did.” Roarke turned to her, his gaze as icy as hers was hot. “You’re late.”

She put herself between him and the door. “I know who did this. At least I know some of them. I can close this without the mumbo.”

“Nice to see you again, Eve.”

Eve shifted her gaze to Isis. “No offense. I appreciate you being willing to help, and in fact, have some questions you may be able to answer. You don’t have to see what’s in there.”

“I’ve already seen some of it, through him and now through you. Seen what’s trapped in your minds. But I can’t feel unless I go in. I can’t feel or see what she saw and felt unless I go in. I might help, I might not, but he needs it.”

Isis took Eve’s arms so that for a moment, she stood as the link between Eve and Roarke. “You know that.”

Eve yanked out her master and turned to the door. “When I say it’s done, it’s done,” she stated.

Roarke slipped the protection charm into her pocket as she unsealed the door.

She stepped in first. “Lights on full.” She turned quickly when she heard Isis let out a quick, shuddering breath. But Isis put out a hand, and took another step into the room.

“It reeks still, and will until it’s cleansed. No one can stay here until a cleansing. You feel it, do you feel it? This is not the work of a dabbler, not the vile work of one who only seeks blood and death for their own sake. This is power and purpose, and it brought the dark.”

“You’re going to tell me they called up Satan?”

Isis turned her black eyes on Eve. “I imagine he has more important things to do than answer a summons. But evil can be called, and it can be fed. You can’t do what you do and believe otherwise. Or see what you see.”

She stared at the pentagram, and the pools and rivers of blood that washed over it. “She doesn’t know me, neither in body nor spirit. I need some of her blood. Get that, while I prepare.”

She knelt and began taking items from her bag.

Eve said, “Crap,” but she stalked off to get swabs from the bathroom amenities.

“I’ll need three. Head, heart, hand.” Isis set out candles, crystals, herbs.

Though she rolled her eyes, Eve crossed to the pentagram. If she felt a pull when she stepped into it, she willfully pushed it away. She slapped a look toward Roarke as she coated the swabs. “If it ever gets out that I not only allowed but participated in some voodoo bullshit—”

He crouched beside her, took her free hand. “My lips are sealed as long as you want them to be. I owe you for this.”

“Damn right you do.”

“You’re so tired, darling Eve.” Before she could evade, he leaned to her, brushed her lips with his.

“There’s power there, too,” Isis murmured. “We’ll need it. Light the candles, please, and stand with me. Together with me while I cast the circle. Hurry. I can’t stay here long.

“The power of three in light,” she said as Roarke lit the candles. “The power of three in flesh.” She took a bag and walked a circle of salt around them. “Order the lights off,” she commanded, and when only the candles lit the room, she began to chant in a language Eve didn’t recognize.

With a curved knife she turned, like the hand of a compass. Her face glowed; her eyes burned. She placed crystals at the compass points of the circle, then sprinkled herbs into the water she’d poured into a small copper bowl.

Whether it was fatigue or the power of suggestion, Eve felt something cold, cold, brutally cold push against the air.

“It cannot enter what is light. It cannot enter what is bright. And we will not open !” Isis threw her hands high, and her biceps quivered with the strain. “I am daughter of the sun, sister of the moon. I am child and servant of the goddess. In this place, at this hour, I call upon her power. Into me, into mine, bring both light and sight divine. Set the murdered spirit free, send her essence into me.