The Darkest Gate Read Online Free Page B

the overlord of the city was a demon, but she appeared to be a frail, ancient, and entirely human female. Her sagging face was a severe, bony mask that resembled the ancient mummies. Every breath rattled in her chest.
    She was shadowed by a man so painfully beautiful that he could have been mistaken for one of Mr. Black’s stock. His almond-shaped eyes were black, as though the pupils had overtaken the irises. He had been introduced to Portia as “Thom.”
    “Mr. Black,” the Night Hag muttered. “Bringing his ‘collection.’ I should have known! And now you’ve given him your fleet?”
    “We can track his movements,” Portia said, fighting to keep her voice steady. The Night Hag and her companion looked normal, but they terrified her in a deep, primal way. “And you instructed me to cooperate with him.”
    “We’ll kill Mr. Black,” the overlord said to herself, stroking claw-like nails down the side of her face. “Yes. We’ll have to strike fast.” She snapped her fingers. “Tell David Nicholas.”
    Thom gave a small bow. “Very well.” His voice was deep and without accent. He turned to leave, but the Night Hag caught his arm.
    “We’ll need the kopis, too. Get to her before Mr. Black does.”
    “What about this… thing ?” Portia interjected. “You asked for it, and I bought it, but I don’t want it in my house.”
    “Nukha’il,” the Night Hag whispered. “Yes. I have plans for you, my new angel.”
    T wo years of client files. All the knives stored in her desk. A safe filled with important documents. Her laptop, her desk phone. Her favorite coffee pot.
    Gone. All gone.
    The police left after taking pictures, samples, and statements. It felt like her office had been violated a second time, and all that remained after the investigators were done was shattered furniture, smoke stains, and a lingering sense of grief.
    She sank to her knees on a clear patch of floor by the window and let the silence engulf her. There was so much to be done. She needed to meet with the landlord, a cleaning company, her insurance agent—not to mention all her clients, whose private files had been stolen.
    Elise rested her head in her hands. She had a headache. She never had headaches. It must have been caffeine withdrawal.
    “They took my favorite coffee pot,” she whispered. That part stung the worst.
    She didn’t bother locking the door on her way out.
    Outside, the day was too hot and too bright. The lack of clouds felt like a personal insult. She jammed sunglasses onto her face, slammed the car door, and went home to start the recovery process. She blew through two stop signs on the way. Elise couldn’t seem to focus on the road.
    Her roommate greeted her at the door with a feather duster.
    “Anthony’s looking for you!” Betty announced, plucking a headphone out of one ear. She was a human hurricane of caffeinated enthusiasm, and all that energy was currently directed at cleaning their kitchen in tiny shorts that said “juicy” on the butt.
    “Great,” Elise said, dropping her satchel on the couch. “Thanks.”
    “He’s probably on his side of the duplex. You can catch him before work if you hurry.” Betty frowned. “You okay? You look tired.”
    It seemed like too much effort to rehash everything she had gone over with the police in exacting detail. “I’ll tell you later.”
    She went into her bedroom and locked the door.
    Anthony. He was exactly the person she didn’t want to see. He would freak out and expect her to do the same, and then he would try to comfort her, and the thought of having to deal with that much emotion was exhausting.
    The endless to-do list kept rolling through her mind: Landlord. Cleaning company. Insurance agent. All her clients. The police. Maybe the security company would have footage, maybe she should…
    Elise threw herself on the bed without getting undressed and pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead.
    She didn’t even know where to begin. Backups?