Demon Within (The Silver Legacy Book 2) Page 6

  “I’m sure you are, and I wouldn’t be bothering you, but I heard you have a...unique way of...dealing with bad things.”

  Denny paused hand on the door. “Look. Zits are bad things. Taxes are bad things. Housewife shows are bad things. I don’t deal with any of those. I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, but I...well...let’s just say I am one of life’s bad things. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

  She didn’t know how this girl had found her or why she thought Denny could help, but she was quite mistaken.

  Denny had her own problems.

  Looking around the room at the empty food containers and piles of unanswered mail, Denny could only shake her head before heading up to the lair.

  And nothing else mattered.

  ***

  Gwen’s Journal

  I had to go back for more seeds and salt. Truth be told, I just wanted to talk to Tirobia again. She seems so knowledgeable and wise. I felt so much calmer after I left there–– a rare feeling since coming to Savannah.

  Rushalyn watched me with careful, almost wary eyes as I lit the incense, poured the salt, and buried the seeds. I wanted to ease her spirit so I actually spoke out loud, telling her these were not for her.

  She surprised me by replying, “I know. I’m not evil,” before vanishing.

  It’s one thing to deal with demons, but a whole other ball game talking to ghosts. I am not at all sure how I feel about it. I know Golden can see her, but I’m unsure about the others. Does this mean what I think it means?

  I’ve asked Ames about it and he says children are simply more open to ghosts than adults. He’s right. I’m so glad I met Ames Walker. What an amazing young man he is. He’s given me quite a decent background on Savannah’s demon lore, and shown me how to better utilize Fouet and Epée. That man might very well save my life.

  I’ve struggled with whether or not to introduce Robert to him. Ames is quite handsome and charming. I wouldn’t want Robert to get the wrong idea or to get even more jealous of a man who has so much to teach me. He’s already slightly bothered by the time we spend together.

  I think I just answered my own question.

  Speaking of questions, I had a woman come to me this morning asking for my help. At first, I was a bit taken aback, wondering how she knew what I was. She merely laughed this bell-like giggle and said, “This is Savannah. All the spirits gossip here.”

  I liked Petra right off the bat and decided I would help her with her demon issue...only if he was, in fact, a demon. I finished the conversation wondering if there wasn’t more to Petra than meets the eye.

  Only time will tell, I suppose.

  ***

  Denny finished reading and pushed the book aside. Her mother had a bigger heart than she did, that’s for certain. To just agree to help some stranger who had somehow managed to find out she hunted demons was risky business.

  Denny wouldn’t do it.

  She wasn’t heartless––she just didn’t want random strangers like that girl on the steps popping into her life on some demon quest when she had her own issues to deal with.

  So maybe she was being a little selfish, but so what?

  She hadn’t been able to shake her visit with Quick. Everything about his story pointed to him being not only set up, but he looked so guilty. His story sounded...well...like a story. Everything the D.A. had presented had shown an unbalanced Silver who had jealousy issues with his girlfriend.

  Still, even Denny could hear how weak his account sounded, and it broke her heart to listen to it.

  It became even clearer to her now why her Hanta hadn’t shown its hand until recently.

  It knew.

  Had it come out earlier, had it revealed which Silver it now had as a host, it would have put Denny in immediate danger when she was too young to know how to defend herself.

  When Sterling took up her vows, she became too hard for the Hanta to reach, so the demons went after Quick, thinking he was the next logical Silver in the legacy line-up.

  Instead of killing him, they’d sent him to prison.

  Why?

  Why did they keep him alive?

  Were they waiting to see who carried the demon within? Had they merely put him on ice?

  If he had possessed the Hanta, it would have come out in the prison and gone after any number of demons inside those walls. Eventually, he’d have been killed. And that was why they had come after Denny and Pure––to wipe them out so the Hanta had no place to go and would die with Quick and the Hanta in prison.

  Then they’d realized their mistake.

  The Hanta had leapt from Denny’s mother moments before she coded in the hospital. Denny had been holding her hand, crying, begging for her to pull out of the coma she was in, and when the life support machines started ringing and buzzing, the floor swirled around Denny, bile rose in her throat, and she nearly fainted.

  The Hanta’s spirit, fearing Gwen would die, saw the chance to make the legacy transition and so it did. Then it waited silently for six years in Denny before making its presence known and, like any other animal coming out of hibernation, it was hungry.

  To feed it required the killing of demons, at which she was becoming very accomplished.

  Denny closed the door to the lair, then retied her running shoes and made sure her inner vest pockets contained Fouet and Epée.

  As she opened the front door, she realized the girl had not left.

  “Still here?”

  “I’m a pit bull, Golden Silver, and I’ve been told you have what it takes to help me. I don’t give up so easily.”

  Denny shook her head and said, “Look, I don’t know where you get your information, but I don’t have it...whatever it is.” She started down the steps past the girl, who made the mistake of reaching out to grab her arm.

  Denny ripped her arm away, a low growl in her throat. “Be very careful, sweetheart.” She managed to reel it in, but not before she heard that voice.

  The girl’s eyebrows rose. “What I heard is that you...can take care of things...of people...who are not what they seem. I need that. I can’t do it on my own.”

  Denny stopped at the bottom of the steps and turned back to her. “That’s just about everyone in the world. I don’t help people with their people problems. I’ve got enough on my own plate. Sorry. Please don’t be here when I get back. You wouldn’t want to see me angry.” With that, Denny started her jog.

  Jogging cleared her head and she thought it put the demon to rest––sort of like how young couples would drive a baby around to get it to sleep. Denny became more in tune with the Hanta, though she was unsure that was a good thing. Maybe just understanding it more gave her more confidence.

  All she really knew was that the Hanta Raya was the key to getting Quick out of jail and it kept her safe.

  All other bets were off.

  ***

  When Denny returned from her jog, Iris was still there. Irritation flooded over Denny like the sweat making its way down her spine. “I don’t know whether to be pissed off or impressed by your persistence,” she said, running up the steps.

  “I just want five minutes of your time. If, after you hear my story, you still won’t help, I’ll take off.”

  Pausing at the door, Denny recalled her mother’s journal before jerking her head. “Fine. Five minutes. After that, you’d best not show up here again.”

  Iris scurried up the stairs and into the house, where she abruptly stopped inside the door, her eyes scanning the debris and upheaval of the family room, dining room, and kitchen. “Umm...you live like this when it’s such a gorgeous house?” She pulled a face. “It stinks in here.”

  Denny followed her gaze to the stack of pizza boxes and opened Chinese food containers. There were Hostess wrappers on the couch and an open bag of probably very stale Cheetohs on the recliner, many of which had escaped from the bag.

  “Not usually. I’ve...been out of sorts.” Denny turned her. “Coming into my home and telling me it stinks is
not the way to get me to hear you out.”

  Iris perked up. “Then you’ll at least hear my story?”

  Denny grabbed a towel and wiped her face off. “What was your name again?”

  “Iris. Iris Carter.”

  “You’re on the clock. Make it quick.”

  Iris stopped looking at the mess and locked eyes with Denny. “I left Boston a few weeks ago because I was certain a demon was following me.”

  Denny motioned for Iris to follow her into an equally disgusting kitchen, where she opened the still nearly empty refrigerator. She grabbed a bottle of water from the door. “Keep talking. Time is ticking.”

  “I feared for my family, so I figured if I came to Savannah, there would be someone who could help me.”

  Denny closed the fridge. “I don’t know what all you heard, but I’m not really in the business of helping people with demons. How do you even know it was a demon?”

  “I’m pretty certain I saw glowing red eyes when he was in my house one night. He is this huge, thick-browed brute of a man, I swear, but human on the outside.”

  Denny wiped the mouth of the bottle. “I see. Has it spoken to you? Any idea what it wants?”

  Iris shook her head, her pixie cut gently moving. She was all of one hundred ten pounds soaking wet. “I don’t have any idea. He just showed up.”

  Denny pounded the water down. “Tell me about your family.”

  “I come from a large Catholic family with six sibs. We’ve never been bothered by the supernatural before, but I figured if this thing wants me, he’s gonna have to travel to find me. At least he’ll be away from my loved ones.”

  Denny crumpled the bottle up. “Oh, if it’s a demon, he’ll find you whether or not your family is around. I just wonder what it is you’ve done to piss it off?”

  “That’s just it. I don’t know. I just know I had to get away from Boston––get it away from my family.”

  Denny understood. “That’s admirable of you but I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong place. I don’t hunt demons.”

  “I can pay.”

  Denny’s water bottle paused in mid-air. “I don’t need your money.”

  Iris looked around the house. “Are you sure? I can clean your house. It’s pretty obvious you need a maid.”

  Denny pushed past her to the front door. “And it’s pretty obvious this conversation is over.” Opening the front door, Denny waited.

  “Hasn’t anyone ever just helped you out of the goodness of their heart?” Iris asked as she walked out the door.

  Denny stood, hand on the door. “Actually, yes. Someone has...only by then, it was too late. Good luck hunting your demon.” Closing the door, Denny then started back up the stairs to the lair.

  “Rush? If you’re here, I’m certain you’re incredibly disappointed in me. Fear not––you can’t be any more than I am in myself.”

  With that, Denny returned to the lair to continue her studies.

  ***

  Gwen’s Journal

  After some time working with Ames, I realize I must choose my battles wisely. He is such a fount of information that already, I’ve learned more from him in one month than in my entire demon-hunting life.

  I blame my mother.

  She was, unlike my grandmother, a very reluctant hunter, wanting nothing to do with what she felt was a curse. She tried, more than once, to have the Hanta exorcised from her.

  I wish she’d told me more. Pretending the Hanta didn’t exist might have worked for her, but it didn’t help me in any way. She knew I’d have to bear the same burden eventually but she refused to prepare me. She may have thought she was acting out of love but surely she must have also known somewhere inside herself how unhelpful, even how downright dangerous my own ignorance would be.

  Needless to say, the exorcisms did not work, and so she hunted only when the demon’s hunger could no longer be contained. That was why they chose to live in the deep woods of Montana. Not many demons enjoy life in the wild. No, they tend to be city dwellers or they hunker down in the suburbs where there are plenty of humans to choose from.

  My mother refused to live in either area, preferring the reclusive nature and solitude of the big, wide open spaces...spaces where she could see them coming.

  I imagine she was terribly lonely.She’s not the only lonely one, either.Ames, who seems to be quite the recluse, is a wonderful teacher. He is kind, patient, and caring. He wants me to “get it right.” There are times when I am a terrible student––when I can’t focus or concentrate. Having a family at risk will do that.

  That’s why Mother sent us away to live with Dad in California. She wanted us away from her, away from a legacy that had been all around the world. She was scared and that fear had cost her her family and the man she loved.

  I think it broke her heart to send us away. I can’t even imagine doing so to my beautiful children. Like Ames said, “A legacy demon can only be killed with weapons crafted during its inception. Barring that, each of you must figure out a way to live with it.”

  I don’t know that I’ve figured out a way, but I do know I won’t let this legacy tear my family apart. I’ve done what I can to protect the house and safeguard my children.

  The rest is in God’s hands.

  ***

  Denny stared at the quote by Ames Walker.

  “Legacy demons? That would mean––” She shook her head, once again realizing Rush was not there. “Fuck.”

  Only when her stomach growled did Denny stop to think how long it had been since she’d eaten. A day? Two days? Funny how hard it was to keep track of time when one stayed out all hours of the night.

  Denny grabbed a quick shower and then her weapons, before heading for the always open diner on the corner, where she sat reading the paper to see what crimes had been committed last night. It always helped know who might be skulking around in dark with her.

  Demons showed up in the news all the time, and not just as heinous felons or low-life criminals. Demons were the politicians who voted against saving the environment. They were athletes who took the cheap shots. The women in bars looking for the men wearing wedding rings. Those boys who set cats on fire or tied dogs to railroad tracks.

  Quite a few evil beings walked around tempting the lost to do horrific things. One of the telltale signs no one paid attention to was the number of criminals who told authorities they’d heard a voice tell them to do it.

  A voice.

  A demon’s voice.

  A voice most of the world’s doctors and great thinkers denied the existence of. Oh sure, Joan of Arc heard voices, but those were of angels, right? So, she gets a pass?

  Denny could only shake her head.

  So many people believed in angels...angels and miracles, but demons and magic were hooey?

  Seriously?

  It was absurd to think civilization could have one but not the other.

  As Denny caught up on the news and local criminal activity, Brianna slid into the booth next to her. Denny almost jumped.

  “Good morning sunshine. Doing homework for your next all-nighter, Shadow Girl? Or should I call you Queen of the Dark?”

  Denny closed her notepad. “Are you stalking me?”

  Brianna’s mouth showed the hint of a smile. “If offering a friend a hand is stalking, then yes.” Her eyes were particularly blue as she studied Denny’s face. “You look exhausted, but I’m glad to see you’re at least eating.”

  Before Denny could answer, the waitress brought over chicken-fried steak, biscuits and gravy, and two eggs, sunny side up.

  “Wow. You must really be hungry. Good for you.”

  Denny did not reply, but dug into the bloody steak.

  “I know we’ve not been friends very long, but I care about you, Denny. I really do.”

  “Well, don’t. I don’t need a hand. I don’t need your help. I just need to be left alone.”

  Sighing, Brianna picked up the spoon and ate some of the gravy. “Rush thinks you
need help.”

  Denny did not pause as she shoveled the eggs into her mouth. “Right. Rush is long gone. She bailed. Bolted. Ejected. She’s left me to my own devices, so don’t tell me what Rush thinks because you don’t know.”

  Brianna licked the spoon. “You know, I’m thinking I do, and that’s not really how it happened. See, she left you so you could join the living and have a chance at a semi-normal relationship, you self-absorbed twat––not so you could creep around at night carrying a death wish on your back. You think that is what she wants for you and your life?”

  “Doesn’t really matter what she wants anymore. She is gone...which is what I wish for you to be.”

  Brianna carefully set her spoon down, patted her lips with a napkin, and slid out of the booth. “Say no more, Golden Silver, I can take a hint. You want to play the martyr role, go for it, but get some help before the Hanta consumes you.” With that, Brianna strode out of the restaurant, leaving Denny to her heart attack on a plate.

  ***

  After eating, Denny felt more human than she had in a long time––human enough to realize she’d been a horrible friend to both Lauren and Victor. She refused to admit that Brianna had had anything to do with her decision—she just missed them was all. Apparently, letting her friends go, even if it was the best thing to do, didn’t land in her toolbox. She missed them. She missed them more than she wanted to admit, so she stopped by the campus and caught both of them on their way to class.

  “Oh my God!” Lauren said, hugging her tightly “You’re alive!”

  Victor fairly lifted her off the ground in a spine-crushing embrace “Damn, girl, it’s so good to see you! Are you back? Did you re-enroll?”

  Once on the ground, Denny shook her head. “No, man, I’m not back in school, but I think I’m getting back to normal.” The lie hurt, but better she hurt by the lie than hurt them with the truth—that she seemed to be irreversibly screwed up. That she was scared, lost, and worried that she wasn’t learning enough fast enough to protect them all. “I’m so sorry I’ve been absent. I’ve been...struggling a bit and needed some time.”