Dire Blood (#5) (The Descent Series) Read Online Free PDF

James three tries to read it.
    The ground pitched beneath him. The crowd was dense. A blur of faces.
    He appeared in the bathroom, hands braced against the sink, splashing water over his face. It clung to three days of beard growth and sparkled on his chin. The lines between his eyebrows and on either side of his mouth were deeper than he remembered.
    For weeks, every time he had looked in a mirror, he’d seen her . James had grown used to having Elise’s constant presence lurking inside of him, watching him in all of his solitary moments. It was strange and invasive, yet had somehow become comforting. Even when she didn’t want to speak to him, she had always been there. A constant companion.
    But now it was just him. Alone.
    A man with a toothbrush and a razor loomed over his shoulder. Some stranger with two chins and a t-shirt stained with ketchup. “You using that?”
    He stepped back to let the traveler use the sink.
    James held his hands under the dryer, blew hot air over his damp fingers, and watched the light glinting off the ring he still wore on his right hand.
    And then he was walking again, passing through the busy airport. His feet slid over moving walkways. The roof arched high overhead, blurry and indistinct. He forced his way past a long line winding outside of a McDonald’s.
    His mind was back in Saudi Arabia. He could almost hear Elise sharpening her swords.
    Whisk, whisk, whisk…
    It had only been days since he had last seen his kopis, but he was already struggling to separate true memory of Elise from myth. He wanted to remember her from the times they were happy. He wanted to remember her excitement when she began her first week at college, followed by the typical exhaustion and dread of an overworked freshman; the flush high on her cheekbones when they danced at competitions; the way they played at fighting before dinner, sometimes, just to keep their senses sharp.
    But he remembered her sharpening her goddamn swords. Preparing for her next battle. Readying herself to drive a blade through the spine of an enemy. He remembered her haunted by the ghost of her victims, smoking cigarettes and bleeding from her scalp. The spirit of fury and vengeance, the woman who never smiled or slept.
    That was the legend. The Godslayer.
    Not the woman.
    He passed a television next to a souvenir shop and stopped when he recognized a photo of a gaping hole in the street between two casinos. It was a news report on the crisis in Reno, Nevada, which was widely believed to be the result of a volcanic eruption and collapsed mines.
    “Recovery efforts continue in Nevada this week,” said the newscaster, whose practiced tone of concern was unconvincingly sincere. “Air quality reports suggest that it may be several weeks before downtown Reno is habitable again, and FEMA is seeking funding to expand operations to accommodate evacuees from Sparks and other surrounding towns. Most buildings in downtown Reno, including three major hotel-casinos, are considered unsalvageable.”
    The camera panned over a few select scenes of destruction: cars caked in ash, firefighters quenching a domestic fire, and what used to be a motel.
    “Gertrude Priest is currently with Allyson Whatley, who is helping coordinate recovery efforts. Gertrude?”
    The image flipped over to a petite woman with blond hair on a hill overlooking downtown Reno. The skyline behind her was almost unidentifiable. Half of the casinos had collapsed or burned, and the camera angle was low enough that the mountains were out of frame. A thick waisted woman in a polo shirt stood beside her.
    “Thank you, John,” Gertrude said. “Reno has been through an unfortunate series of natural disasters this year, beginning with earthquakes in the spring, which experts now believe were a precursor to the eruption. Ms. Whatley, can you tell us if we’re at risk for further eruptions soon?”
    “Not at all,” Allyson said, her expression hard and unreadable. “Seismic