The Demon Within (The Silver Legacy Book 2) Page 3

  “To check in on my MIA little sister. What on earth has happened to you, Golden? It’s disgusting in here.” She walked over to a window and opened it up. When she moved on to open a second window, Denny came behind her and closed the first one.

  “Golden…” Sterling’s penchant for using Denny’s full name always made her cringe––as if that habit were too tight on Sterling’s head and made her forget who she really was: the sibling who had run to the Church to avoid the legacy. “You’ve never lived like a slob. What on earth is going on with you?”

  Denny shrugged as she walked into the kitchen and filled the coffee maker with water. Caffeine was now her fuel of choice. Actually, it was her only fuel. Food and her just didn’t get along any more.

  “Victor came by to see me,” Sterling said to Denny’s back. “He’s very worried. Says he’s only spoken to you once in the past few weeks. He says you’ve dropped out of school. Is that true? Have you dropped out of school?”

  Placing the little plastic cup filled with ground coffee in the Keurig, Denny slowly turned, crossed her arms over her chest, and leaned against the sink. “Again, none of your concern. You made it clear when you left that we were on our own. You don’t get a vote.”

  Sterling closed the gap, her eagle eyes never leaving Denny’s face. “Golden, look at you.” She spread her arms out. “Look at this house. You...you need help. You need––”

  “Help? Oh, that’s rich coming from a woman hiding behind the habit. What I need, Sister, is for you and everyone else to leave me the fuck alone.”

  “Golden, what...what happened to you? You send Pure away without even a conversation with me and now you live like…like…some homeless person. Have you lost your mind?”

  Denny waved the question away with her hand. “Just doing what you didn’t have the guts to do. This legacy? The one you didn’t want? The one you ran away from? This is my world now. Saints, angels, God, and nuns have no place in it. None. Don’t judge me.”

  “Is this how you plan on living when Pure returns? In squalor?”

  “I’m not so sure she will.”

  This blow struck hardest. “What are you saying? You can’t mean––”

  “Can and will if I don’t think she’s safe. You may be the oldest, Sterling, but I’m the one taking care of Pure. Me. Unless and until I feel Savannah is safe for her, she’ll stay in California.”

  “She’ll never agree to that. Her friends, her family, are here.”

  Denny pulled a mug with a zombie on it from the many in the sink. In red lettering it said Not until I’ve had my coffee.

  “We’ll see.” Placing the mug under the spout, she turned the Keurig on.

  “Golden, please don’t do this.”

  “Do what?” She faced Sterling now. “Be what I am? Because it’s too late, Sterling. Too fucking late. I am what I’ll be until I die. I am this.” Denny locked eyes with her sister and let the Hanta’s red eyes glow.

  Covering her mouth, Sterling stumbled backwards into the formal dining room. “Oh, Golden...I’m...I’m so sorry.”

  “I don’t need your pity, Sterling. I need you to walk away. Go back to the relative safety of the Church and leave me be. I know what I’m doing.”

  Backing toward the door, Sterling stared hard at her. “Do you? Does doing all of this also prevent you from seeing Mom? Princess says you’ve not been to see Mom in two weeks.”

  Denny made shooing motions with her hands. “Take your Catholic guilt and go. Mom knows why I don’t come see her. She gets it.”

  Taking a note out of her sleeve, Sterling set it on the arm of the divan. “At least let your friends know you’re...alive. They’re worried. And rightly so. Remember there are those who love you and don’t deserve to be shut out. Pull yourself together, Golden, before it’s too late.”

  As Sterling turned to leave, Denny muttered under her breath, “What makes you think it isn’t?”

  Gwen’s Journal

  My hopes of a semi-normal, peaceful existence in Savannah are not to be. First, we bought the Holbrook House for a song because it was run down, needed updating, and Robert fell in love with it.

  Ghost and all.

  Yes, that’s right. I wanted to be free from supernatural dangers and my husband not only brought us to Savannah, he bought a haunted house.

  You know, you just have to love a man who knows you’re possessed and loves you anyway. I hope you girls find a man like your father––especially you, Golden. I know you’ll be the one to inherit our somewhat accursed legacy. I don’t know how I know it, but I do. Sterling is far too self-righteous, even for a teenager, and your brother–– well, I doubt he’ll be able to get out of his own way. What a little monster he’s turning out to be! The only way Pure will inherit the legacy is if, Goddess forbid, something happens to you all.

  Nevertheless...to find someone who can help shoulder the burden is a gift worth waiting for and one I wish often for my girls.

  So...let me tell you more about our resident ghost––Rushalyn Holbrook. She has taken a shine to eight-year-old Golden, spending hours watching her. If Denny sees her, I cannot tell. I struggled with the telling of it, but Robert insists that the girls find their own way around the paranormal pathways of Savannah. Easy words for a man who doesn’t hunt demons or see ghosts.

  So far, Rushalyn doesn’t speak to me or anyone else that I can tell, but she’s not haunting us either. She just watches us with a winsome look on her youthful face as if observing us live our lives reminds her of what it was like. I can’t even imagine how sorrowful her life is now just watching it pass by. Seems like a fate worse than death.

  I’ve asked around town about the house being haunted, but most folks prefer discussing the older, more well-known ghosts in the area, so I’ve let it go. Robert doesn’t want me digging around town trying to find information on a ghost people might not wish to talk about. I know what I see and that’s all that matters.

  For now.

  ***

  Denny sat in an uncomfortable leather chair across from Reese Oakmont, a stately redhead with impeccable taste in high-end fashion. Classy without screaming expensive.

  Reese opened a thick file with Quick’s name on it, using her perfect nails that sported a new French manicure. She wore no jewelry save a pair of simple silver hoop earrings. Her deep red hair hung loosely on her shoulders like she had just stepped from a shampoo commercial.

  If the sheer weight of her stature didn’t grab your attention, her keen blue eyes would. There were times after their first meeting when Denny felt as if Reese had been looking through her.

  Intense was an understatement.

  Like her office was intense. Intense and stark, with only perfectly lined bookshelves along the wall and three of the exact same leather chairs. There was no warmth in this office…it was almost as if she’d decorated with idea that she didn’t want to give her clients hope.

  Denny appreciated that. She knew you could not live life on the meager crumbs of hope.

  “Thank you for stopping in, Denny,” Reese said, taking her glasses off and holding them in her hand. She was doing it again.

  That look. It was the same look Sterling often gave Denny. “Are you on a special diet or something?”

  Denny shook her head. She didn’t think the Demonic Spirit Diet would be met with the humor in which it was intended. “No. I’ve just been really busy. What did you find out?”

  Reese held her gaze a little longer than necessary. “Last week I told you I was going to dig around Quick’s relationship with Lisa and see what all of her friends thought. That should help build the case that he didn’t kill her or her family.”

  “That sounds easy enough.”

  Reese shook her head. “No one wants to discuss anything with me and most have lawyered up already. Somebody clearly got to them and told them to keep mum.”

  “Damn it. Without anyone to corroborate the status of their rel––”

  Reese held her
hand up. “I found one.”

  Leaning forward, she said, “You’re kidding.”

  “Problem is, he’s in the nuthouse babbling away about ghosts and evil spirits. His real name isn’t the same one on record. Whatever is wrong with him has him scared to death.”

  Denny rose. “Then let’s go scare him some more.”

  “Denny, please sit down. It will not help your brother’s case for you to go crashing the party before it’s even started. Let me do my job.”

  Reese’s job was being one of the top private investigators in the South. She had successfully recovered a twelve-year-old girl who had gone missing for a decade and the case had been colder than stone. She’d built her reputation on that case and had had many well-reported successes since.

  Denny sat back down.

  “Thank you. Now, what’s most disconcerting to me are all the pieces of evidence his attorney seemed to skip over. His deposition is seriously incomplete, the neighborhood wasn’t canvassed nearly enough for witnesses, and the confession is so incredibly forced that it is clearly bogus.”

  This brought Denny to the edge of her seat. “Evidence has been skipped over?”

  Reese put her glasses back on and flipped over a couple of pages. “Yes. I don’t know how or why a mistrial wasn’t declared immediately, but there are gaping holes that you could have driven a truck through. Could have, but didn’t.”

  “And if you find that missing evidence?”

  Reese took her glasses off once more. “It’s not a matter of finding it, Denny. It’s a matter of making all the pieces fit together. He just…” Reese’s voice trailed off.

  “What? He just what?”

  Reese put her glasses back on and read one of the papers before closing the file. “He had an incredibly inadequate defense, Denny, bordering on malpractice. How the D.A.’s office allowed his attorney’s continued ineptness is beyond me. I’m going to keep digging and see why that was.”

  Denny adjusted her chair. “What does your gut tell you?”

  Reese leaned back in the chair and studied her a moment. “You know, it’s not even my gut. They rushed to judgment because Lisa’s remaining family wanted someone behind bars. I don’t think they even cared who it was.”

  “Then you don’t think he’s guilty?”

  “I didn’t say that. I just said there are a lot, and I mean a lot of holes. Too many inconsistencies.” She shook her head. “You did the right thing coming to me. It’s just unfortunate you didn’t come to me before the trial. This whole heartache might have been prevented.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  Reese rose and walked around the desk to sit on the chair next to Denny. Their knees touched before Reese’s eyes bored into hers. The air was thick with only the sound of the ticking clock.

  “I’ve read through the court records. I’ve gotten my hands on evidence lists. I’ve combed through witness statements, and I’ve got to be honest...I think your brother was railroaded. There’s no way this should have gone to trial. I...I’ve never seen anything like this. Ever.”

  For the first time in a long time, those crumbs of hope expanded inside her. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that.”

  Reese reached out and gently laid her hand on Denny’s knee. “Don’t get your hopes up too quickly. A lot has to happen before we can see an attorney to talk about filing an appeal.”

  That was when she felt the familiar pull of attraction––something she hadn’t given a shit about for the last three weeks.

  And as quickly as it came, it left. She had no time for amorous flirtations, harmless or otherwise.

  “I’m not saying we can get him out. I’m not at all sure there’s anything we can do without the real killer, but I think if we gather enough evidence it might warrant an appeal. You know how it works here in the South; we don’t cotton to letting convicted killers go free.”

  Denny nodded. “Regardless of his guilt or innocence.”

  “Exactly. I have a bunch of calls out there and an early appointment with one of the first responders to the scene. A great deal of his testimony didn’t make it either..”

  The hackles rose on the back of Denny’s neck. “How could that be?”

  “Oh, you’d be amazed to know how badly and how often the judicial system fails. But like I said, we need the real murderer, or at least a bead on one for us to get noticed. Reversals are rare. No one likes being told they made this horrific kind of mistake, especially judges.”

  “So, what’s next?”

  “I need to interview Quick. For my own peace of mind, I need to know his story and feel his innocence. I won’t take this if he’s guilty.”

  Denny nodded. “I know. I can do that.”

  Reese finally lifted her hand as she reached for her calendar.

  Denny smiled. “What, no piece of technology for the super sleuth?”

  “Oh, I have more technology than you can shake a stick at, but for calendaring, I like the big picture right at my fingertips.”

  The way she fairly purred those last four words confirmed Denny’s suspicions: the private detective was, in fact, flirting with her. Not that it mattered. There was no place for this to go except into the dumpster, so Denny finished with the calendar, begged off an offer for a drink later that night, and headed for her car. Then she drove by the coffee shop to see if Brianna was working her usual morning shift.

  Brianna.

  Another prospective lover who’d stalled out of the gate. She’d been very attracted to Brianna, but once the demons attacked, it was all Denny could do to keep her people safe. For now, distant was the safest place to be. Denny had no intention of stopping by for a brief hello. The last time she’d spoken to Brianna Stuart was when the demons had come after Denny, hoping to kill the Hanta before Denny could learn how to become the demon hunter.

  Brianna and her coven had saved them, and the demons lost that night...at least...on the front of it. Denny knew better. They had managed to kill the demon who had come for Pure, but they hadn’t won the war. Not by a long shot. What the demons had done was force her into the isolation she needed to protect those who cared about her, an isolation Denny felt to the core of her soul.

  Maybe it was for the best.

  Maybe in the long run, being alone was the only real option for her.

  Gwen’s Journal

  For the past week, I’ve been training with a man named Ames Walker. He is a handsome devil who actually makes Robert jealous. It’s so cute. I didn’t know he was capable of jealousy after fifteen years of marriage, but he is. Of course, he has nothing to worry about. There is definitely something about Mr. Walker that turns heads. Not mine, of course. He turns my muscles into mush. He turns my brain into scrambled eggs, and he’s turned me on to how to better wield my weapons, but my heart belongs to my husband.

  Ames knows so much more than I ever could and has opened my eyes to the many ways I can keep my family safer. At first, I was leery of moving to Savannah…to a haunted house. I wondered what Robert could have been thinking. But then, I met Ames and I knew that he was the reason I came here. Ames Walker knows more about demon hunting than all the books in my lair, and has already made such a huge difference in my life.

  Yesterday, he sent me to this woman who sells handmade goods on the dock––Tirobia, a fascinating young woman of African descent, with skin so dark it looks purple.

  She is a fount of information on protecting my home––squashing all those silly Catholic prayers and Circle of Light mythologies the Christians employ to defeat demons.

  Demons care not a lick about our beliefs or myths. Jesus is not their concern. Religion means nothing to them one way or the other. They are as likely to possess a Buddhist as a Jew or Catholic. Tirobia opened my eyes to the truth when she said in her deeply accented Haitian voice, “Dey laugh dat humans turn to der Christ for help dat ain’t comin’. Dey tink it good humans look inna wrong direction for der help.”

  We
spent an hour talking, when she suddenly grabbed my hand and looked hard at me before letting it go. I swear she knew right then and there, but she did not say anything. Instead, she gave me quite an education about the many ways to ward off evil. All this time, I’d been trying to protect my family from demons when I needed to be protecting them from evil. From all evil. It all makes perfect sense now.

  When I left her, I had a bag filled with the following ingredients, most employed by the Celts and Wiccans for hundreds of years. She said these were just the beginning of home protection and that she would tell me more after I secured my home. Here is what I purchased:

  Angelica––protection from evil spirits

  Foxglove seeds––to protect exterior of house

  Hazel––protects against spirits from Dark Side

  A variety of incense for protection

  Pure salt.

  Apparently, pure salt will work best. I brought a five-pound bag from her and sprinkled it around the entire house, making sure there were no gaps in the line of salt.

  Funny thing was Rush watched me the entire time. I suppose if she were evil, she’d have taken umbrage. I wonder if she thinks I’m nuts, if she sits up there amused. I wonder if she watches Denny so closely because she worries about what I might do to her someday.

  Someday, I am going to have a conversation with that little ghost and see just what the hell it is she’s waiting for.

  Robert still loves his job at the university, and it seems that Savannah was a good choice for us, despite all the demons. It is easier to keep the Hanta fed here, though I am getting more and more calls for help as the news spreads that a true legacy hunter lives in the state. I travelled to Baton Rouge three days ago to destroy a demon who wandered all around a neighborhood bothering little boys. His death felt really good. I don’t mind helping others as long as doing so keeps the damn things from my family.