Blood of the Demon (The Silver Legacy Book 3) Read online

  “Jesus H, give me a fucking break,” she growled, pulling both weapons from her vest.

  She did not open the cylinders, but carried them at her sides as she ducked in and out of foot traffic, hoping to lead whoever was following her to the Woldenberg Riverfront Park. She needed to face them away from the crowds and tourists.

  The very notion that they were upon her in a crowd told her these were nubile demons with no understanding or regard for staying on the down low. No mid- or upper-level demon would face her on the crowded street of New Orleans for fear of getting caught or arrested.

  Well, that and the Latin/Italian they spoke. Denny had never done well with it in school, but to hear it now made her regret not having done better. Lauren’s admonitions floated through her mind’s eye. Yes, she needed to know Latin.

  Thank God the Hanta knew some. She was able to pick up just enough to get the gist of the threats they kept hurling at her.

  Quickly scooting around the quarter, she made it unmolested to the park where she sought a less populated area to commence fighting.

  It was almost midnight now, but still, there were people milling about. Denny moved closer to the water, where two homeless people slept on a park bench.

  With her back to the water, Denny snapped her weapons to life. Fouet crackled. Epée sizzled. Both were bathed in a light blue light that would intensify as they extracted more blood.

  So far, she had not been able to ascertain where her weapons originated. Not even Ames knew exactly where they came from—who made them? When?

  “This is becoming tedious,” she said as the first five demons jogged down toward her, Latin bubbling from their mouths. They were all wearing hoodies. “You assholes watch too much NCIS.”

  More Latin as they slowed to a walk.

  “I understand now why Latin is a dead language.”

  Whirling Fouet over her head like a lasso, Denny cut down the closest two and was preparing to go after the next three when a voice called out in English.

  Not American English. British English.

  “Cease at once.” The British voice was James Earl Jones deep.

  The remaining demons froze where they stood in a semi-circle around her.

  The demon who spoke stood just out of Fouet’s reach. Arrogance and conceit swirled around him like a dust cloud. He knew of her weapons, and knew just how far to stand so Fouet could not harm him.

  “Good evening, Hunter. The minions have proven ineffectual against you thus far. You have managed to quite add a few notches on your belt. I applaud your tenacity.”

  “Gonna collect a dozen more in a minute, asshole.”

  The demon held his hand up. “For every one of us you kill, five more spring to life. You cannot possibly stop the inevitable.”

  Denny took her fighting stance and allowed the Hanta to rise within her.

  “You don’t even know what this is about do you? You’ve been running hither and thither when all you need to do is return home to your life—this is none of your concern.”

  “Anything demonic is my business.” Denny felt the Hanta completely awake now and itching to cut this motherfucker down. “So why don’t you and your fancy schmancy British accent beat it before I cut you in half and feed you to the fish.”

  “You do not belong here, Hunter. Surely you cannot be so dim-witted as to continue with this charade.”

  “Fuck him.”

  Denny looked around for the owner of the voice. “No charade, asshole. Just a lot of demon deaths.”

  “Attack me, and those two pathetic souls over on that bench will be torn apart before you can take a single step.”

  Denny did not lower her weapons. “You think I give two shits about those people?” That was all Hanta, because in truth, he didn’t.

  “You’re bluffing.”

  “Try me.”

  When the nine demons descended on the two sleeping figures, Denny leapt six feet whipping Fouet over her head until she released it at their leader, talking off an arm.

  He howled and stared at the appendage lying on the ground. “You filthy cur. I gave you a chance––”

  Glancing over at the benches, Denny knew she couldn’t get to them in time. The demons would tear them apart and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

  The Hanta had chosen to attack the demon instead of defend the innocents.

  The British demon laughed. “Too late for them, I’m afraid.”

  The attacking demons suddenly seemed incapable of moving beyond a certain point. It was as if there was an invisible wall preventing them from reaching the two homeless sleepers.

  The one-armed Demon saw this and lunged at Denny.

  With one swipe of Epée, she cleaved him in two. He imploded instantly, and the sound made the other demons look, up, hesitate a moment and then run away. They scattered in all directions.

  “Fucking cowards!” She yelled after them.

  Sheathing her weapons, Denny quickly strode over to the benches and ran into something she could not see. She actually bounced back a couple of feet.

  “What the fuck?”

  “Magic.”

  Denny wheeled around, poised to strike.

  Something hit her so hard, it knocked her backward ten feet, where she landed on her ass, skidded to a halt. In an instant, she leaped back on her feet.

  Denny took one step then stopped. “Iris?”

  Iris lowered her hands as she ambled over to Denny, a grin sliding across her face. “Miss me?”

  “What in the hell are you doing here?”

  “Geez, good seeing you, too. And you’re welcome for saving those two.”

  Denny took several deep breaths to calm the Hanta down. “Sorry. My demon flunked elocution school. Thank you for the assist. I needed it.” Brushing off her ass, Denny sheathed her weapons and put them back in her vest. “I guess I needed it more than I want to admit.”

  “Which is why she sent me.”

  “Cassandra?”

  Iris shook her head and lowered her hood. Her spiked blonde hair had pink tips; a new look for the pixie-witch. “Brianna.”

  “Oh crap.”

  “Yeah, well, she was worried about you and asked if I wouldn’t mind watching over you. I guess she’s done being mad. She didn’t even wait for a commercial flight. Instead, she hired a local pilot to get me here.”

  “She hired a...she works at a coffee shop. She can’t afford that.”

  “DH when will you learn about us? It’s called magical persuasion 101 and we all have it. Do you really think you would honestly always be ready or willing to bed Cassandra unless there wasn’t just a teensy bit of magic goin’ down?”

  “I don’t even want to know if that’s true. I’d be so pissed.”

  “Right. I’m just saying...we have access to lots of things because of who we are. Getting a plane is no harder than grabbing a cab.”

  “Well, thank you for that.” Denny shook her head. “Does Cassandra know?”

  “Ummm. By now she probably does, but she didn’t when I left.”

  Denny groaned. “You know we’re all screwed now, right?” Dropping her arm across Iris’s shoulder, Denny started back to the Quarter. “She is going to spit nails when she finds out.”

  “Yeah, heads are so gonna roll. Mine. Yours. Bri’s. Anyone within spitting distance once she finds out where I’ve gone and who sent me.”

  Denny stopped. “Then why? Why would you risk her wrath? Cassandra’s many things, but forgiving isn’t one of them. She’s gonna hail fire and ice when she finds out.”

  “I know, but it’s my life and my decision. If she wants to boot out a witch of my abilities, trust me, there are plenty of other covens who would take me. I know my worth now, DH.”

  Denny shook her head again. “You like living dangerously, little one.”

  “Me? Are you kidding me? Denny, you’re so far off the reservation, the Lone Ranger and Tonto couldn’t find you.”

  They continued to walk
through the darkness in silence a ways before Iris whispered, “She likes you, ya know?”

  “I know.”

  Iris stopped and faced her. “I don’t think you do. Sending me here will piss Cassandra off something fierce and not because it’s me, but because she didn’t think of doing it herself.”

  “Iris, to be honest, I really don’t have time for a pissing contest between witches. We’re in some seriously deep demon shit here. We need to focus on the game at hand or we’re going home in body bags.”

  Iris continued walking. “I know we are. I just wanted you to know there will be a battleground of a different sort when you get back.”

  Denny blew out a loud sigh. “You know, maybe Sterling has the right idea.”

  “About?”

  “Relationships. Maybe my life would be simpler without them.”

  Iris chuckled. “No maybe about it, DH.”

  ***

  Valeria met Denny and Iris at the newly repaired back door. The moment she saw Iris, she smiled warmly. Everything about her demeanor changed. “What have we here?’

  Iris stuck her hand out. “Iris. It’s a pleasure to meet you, your grace.” Iris’s attempt at a curtsy was awkward.

  Valeria chuckled as she took Iris’s hand. “Call me V, and please, no more curtsying or regal names. It makes me break out in hives.” Valeria’s gaze traveled over to Denny’s blood-splattered clothes. “Attacked?”

  “Yeah. They’re not very experienced, but their numbers are growing.”

  Valeria gently wiped demon guts off Denny’s face. “Do you think they are smart enough to have followed you here?”

  “We were very careful, and Iris did some mumbo jumbo to throw them off the scent.”

  Valeria cocked her head. “What mumbo jumbo would that be, Miss Iris?”

  Iris blushed. “I utilized an invisibility spell.”

  Valeria stepped closer. “Indeed. Which one?”

  “Which one?” Denny asked, mouth agape.

  A hint of grin tugged at Valeria’s mouth. “Your witch is far more powerful than even her coven is aware of.”

  “She’s not my wi––”

  “Which spell?”

  Iris looked down a moment and then back up at Valeria. “I worked the Non Videbimus Spell.”

  “That is not a spell your average witch can cast, Miss Iris. Where did you learn this?”

  “I taught myself. There’s a lot of down time at the coven.”

  Valeria rose and locked eyes with Denny. “The Non Videbimus Spell is the See No More Spell of Invisibility. It is a spell that I, quite frankly, can barely master. You are fortunate to have this little witch on your side. Well done, Miss Iris.”

  “Thank you, V, but it really wasn’t that––”

  Suddenly, Peyton groaned. All three turned.

  “She’s not responding to anything I have done. Conventional medicine says we have to just wait and see, but the longer I wait...I...I’m afraid I might lose her.”

  “Show us,” Denny said, and five minutes and a maze later, they were back in Peyton’s tiny cave of a room.

  Iris walked over to the bed and lightly touched Peyton’s wrist.

  “Please don’t tou—”

  “I can help.” Iris half turned toward Valeria. “Together, the three of us have the power to help heal her. I’ve been in training as a healer ma’am. I know I’m young and green, but—”

  “Is that what Cassandra calls you? Green?”

  Iris half grinned. “Among other things.”

  Valeria continued gazing into her eyes. “Green as in envious, maybe. Perhaps if she stopped whoring around, she might actually strengthen her coven.”

  Peyton stirred again, just as the house shook like a small earthquake had rumbled by.

  “Fuck.”

  “We can help speed up the healing process V,” Iris said softly. “We just need time.”

  The house shook again.

  Valeria leveled her gaze at Denny. “They’re out there. You need to buy us time, Golden.”

  “Absolutely.” Denny started to turn away when Valeria grabbed her wrist.

  “Peyton must be saved at all cost.” Valeria muttered several lines of Latin. “Stay safe, Hunter. We need you more than you know.”

  Denny quickly made her way through the labyrinth and landed on the front with both booted feet planted firmly on the porch. By her guestimate, there were nearly twenty demons waiting for her.

  None were lower-end.

  Not one.

  All held some sort of automatic weapon on her. Three red dots were aimed at her chest.

  “Shit.”

  One stepped forward and tossed something at her. At first, she thought it was a basketball. When it landed and bounced up to Denny’s foot, she looked down and realized it was a head.

  Jeanette’s head.

  The Hanta pushed through all of her boundaries and completely took over. Denny was now a passenger along for the ride in her own body.

  With both cylinders in hand, Denny walked slowly down the steps, feeling her body become stronger. The red dots never left her chest.

  “Every last one of you motherfucking cocksuckers are gonna die tonight,” she growled. “Who wants to be the first?” With that, she cracked the whip so hard, Fouet did something it had never done: all of the tiny teeth on it flew off the whip and shot through the air like shards of glass. Six embedded in eyeballs or foreheads, the demons rocking backwards as they were hit, dead before they hit the ground.

  All triggers squeezed.

  Nothing happened.

  Not one bullet left the muzzle.

  Denny cracked Fouet like a pro, decapitating one demon before Fouet made a U-turn and cut another in half on the backswing. Demon detritus flew everywhere.

  “Come on, motherfuckers! Step up and take your best shot. I haven’t had this much fun since the fucking Crusades!”

  Not one gun fired as Denny leapt from the stairs, slashing and hacking with Epée, cutting down three more demons before the rest took off running.

  Denny took one step to go after them when the Hanta stopped abruptly. She slowly turned.

  Standing behind three larger demons was the Dybbuk. Her Hanta vibrated within her as it recognized their enemy. It was, perhaps, the first time she felt some sort of true communication between them and it was slightly unsettling.

  The Dybbuk had possessed an enormous man, easily six foot five, with broad shoulders and no neck.

  “You...” Denny growled. “Is this your doing? You dragged your motley-ass piece-of-shit crew after two of the best fucking hunters on the planet and expect to live?” Denny laughed the laugh of a six-pack-a-day smoker. The sound surprised even her.

  “Big words, little demon.”

  “It’s not my words you have to worry about, asshole.” Denny was on top of three demons in seven long strides. They had given up their useless rifles and side arms and pulled out the knives, swords and daggers they were far more accustomed to using.

  “Come after me, Hunter, and you’ll never reach your precious witches in time.”

  Denny stopped.

  Time stopped.

  All movement ceased.

  Denny re-gripped both weapons, slicing through all three demons, which exploded everywhere, leaving nothing between her and the Dybbuk.

  “They are not my witches, douchebag. The human might care about them but I couldn’t give two sh––” Denny took one step before searing pain ripped her head like a hot poker stuck in her ear. She went down on one knee.

  “You have no idea what you are doing, Hunter. That pain in your head? Your witch has just been attacked. Wait until she is dead. That pain will make this feel like a tickle.

  “My—” Denny pushed past the pain and sprinted back up the stairs.

  Arms churning, legs pushing as hard as they could, she nearly plowed into Iris, who was fending off a demon who’d managed to get inside.

  She killed it with one stoke of Epée, wh
irled around, and decapitated the demon who came in behind her. Guts splattered everywhere.

  “Get back to Peyton, Iris! I’ve got this. Stay with her!”

  Iris held her hands out as is warming them over a fire. “She’s fine now, DH. I do not feel any more threats within the house. Are you okay?”

  “I will be when I cut that fucker’s head off.” Denny took two steps down the stairs when she felt Iris’s hand on her shoulder.

  “DH, don’t.”

  Denny whipped around, a jagged snarl across her lips. “What?” It came out like a bark.

  Iris stood toe to toe with her, unafraid. “No time. We must move Peyton immediately before they bring back more. Reel it in, DH. Right now. This is not the time to finish this.”

  Blinking, Denny inhaled deeply and calmed the demon within. “Yes. Yes, of course. Okay. Okay. I got this.” She breathed deeply once more. “Is she well enough to move?’

  “We don’t really have the option of waiting. We need only to get her to the roof. Valeria has already set the extraction in motion. Come. There is no time to waste.”

  Denny and Iris quickly made their way to Peyton’s room.

  Moving Peyton was easier than Denny thought because she was so small...probably less than a hundred pounds soaking wet and holding a ten pound bag of dog food.

  “We need a stretcher or blankets,” Iris said.

  “No we don’t. We have me.” Denny gently lifted Peyton in her arms as easily as if she was carrying a small child. “I hope your plan involves a helicopter.”

  Valeria’s lavender eyes pierced the darkness. “Oh, but it does.”

  Denny looked to Iris, who nodded just as the sound of rotor blades beating at the air resounded.

  “Jesus H, a chopper? Really? I’m impressed.”

  “I have many contacts, Golden. Sometimes out greatest power lies in the relationships we cultivate.”

  A carrier slowly lowered from the belly of the helicopter and they quickly loaded Peyton onto it. As she ascended, Denny looked down at the ground now illuminated by the helicopter light. There were dozens of demons circling the house. Some were banging on the doors, others were falling prey to a multitude of traps Valeria had set.

  “They’re like ants.”

  A second carrier lowered.