The Demon Within

by Linda Kay Silva

  “Like a little girl playing dress up. Your mom isn’t that much bigger than you.”

  Digging into the trunk, she found a metallic-like blanket, a pendant, a ring, a baseball cap, three fountain pens, and a pair of reading glasses.

  “You hit the mother lode.”

  “That would be true if I knew what the hell all of this was...”

  “Why don’t we see what’s in the other two?”

  Denny tried to open one, but it was locked.

  “Do you see a latch?”

  Rush looked all around it. “I don’t.”

  “Can you go inside and see how to unlock it?”

  “Sure.”

  The moment Rush’s essence touched the trunk, some electrical force sent her flying through the outer wall of the house.

  “Rush?” Denny backed away from the last two trunks.

  “Jesus H. on a raft, what was that?” Rush returned through the same wall she’d been ejected through. “Sweet Jesus, that didn’t feel very good.” Rush floated over to the trunk but did not touch it. “Some sort of security device, I suppose.”

  “No shit. I’ll have to figure those two out later. Right now, I need the information in these books.”

  “You gonna call The Beast? The Hanta, I mean.”

  Denny nodded. “I have to. It’s the only one who knows what I’m looking for.”

  Rush moved closer. “Don’t trust it, Den. It’s a demon, after all. It has its own agenda.”

  Denny started to nod, then stopped. “Wow. You know a helluva lot more about it than I realized.”

  “And some day, I’ll tell you all about it, but right now, you need to summon it and I need to get the hell out of here.”

  “It makes you that nervous?”

  Rush slowly faded. “No, Denny, my love. You make me that nervous.”

  ****

  The Histories

  Twelfth Century

  The exorcism complete, I, Magdalena Von Richtenberg, cast the demon into the night, but it turned on me, entering me and taking up residence.

  Not one person knows.

  Not even she who dwells in the bosom of the Lord.

  Last eve, he came to me as I slept and explained his evil mission. He is to kill her as a means of weakening the Church. His singular goal is to destroy her before she becomes the woman she will one day be.

  I tried to reason with him. Silly me. Reasoning with a demon who has possessed me was a girlish notion. He intends to use me to do his vile work. I must leave the safety of the abbey and travel as far away and as fast as I can from here. I stop now only to write this down should anything befall either of us.

  He seemed afraid, unsure. I believe he is a young demon sent by his Master to do a simple job of killing a simple woman.

  But she is not just any woman and I have no intention of being part of such plan.

  He told me he need only kill her and then he will go on his way, never to bother me or mine again.

  What fool would believe a demon?

  Surely, I do not and I told him thusly. When I explained to him I well knew his Master, he appeared surprised.

  “You are but a pawn to him, demon. He cares not for you—only for what you can do for him.”

  This gave him pause, I believe. It appeared that way...of course, he is young and as gullible as the living.

  When I asked him what his Master wished, he said he wished to weaken the Church’s hold on mankind. He said his Master found it difficult to recruit his minions now that the Church has become so powerful.

  Aye, he said minions.

  I pointed out that he was one such minion. He liked that not at all. I tried to convince him to find another master or to be his own Master.

  He rather liked that idea.

  Before the dream ended, he bade me not to leave the abbey until he had time to think on his options.

  I agreed, but I ended saying, “If you still wish to kill her, I will throw myself from the roof before that will happen. What will your Master do to you then?”

  When I woke up, I felt him only slightly. Perhaps he had listened to my reasoning.

  I am packed and ready for the long trip from here in the event that he chooses to complete his mission.

  All I can say is I have prayed on it and I know with utmost clarity:

  I will not kill Hildegarde von Bingen.

  ****

  Denny stared at the name. “Who the hell is she?”

  Leaving the secret room she now referred to as the Sanctuary and re-entering the lair, she pulled up information from her laptop on one Hildegarde von Bingen.

  “I need your help.” Denny said the moment Lauren answered the phone.

  “You don’t sleep anymore, do you?”

  “I need info on a Hildegarde von Bingen.”

  “The nun?”

  “You’ve heard of her?”

  “You would, too, if you were still in college.”

  Denny rolled her eyes. She could hear Lauren’s fingers on the keyboard.

  “Okay, I’ve got a brief bio on her that I’m emailing you. Easy reading.”

  “Brief bio? Is there an extended version?”

  Lauren made a sound of derision. “Absolutely. This woman...she was amazing. The crap she did for a woman in that time was remarkable. Read up on your email, but don’t stop there. Listen to her music.”

  “Her...what?”

  Lauren laughed. “Read the bio. Call me if you need me to fill in the blanks. And please try to sleep like a normal person.”

  “No idea what you’re talking about. Thanks.” Leaning over the desk, she opened her email and read the post Lauren had sent.

  “Read it out loud.” Rush appeared. She was wearing a leather catwoman suit.

  “Nice outfit.”

  “I just want to fit in—you know—Team Denny and all.”

  Denny smiled kindly. “Welcome, then, to the team.”

  “Read, please.” Rush hovered a moment before lighting on the top of the desk.

  Denny leaned over and started reading. “Hildegarde von Bingen, ten ninety-eight to eleven seventy-nine. She was a German writer, composer, philosopher, mystic, abbess, visionary and polymath.” Denny looked at Rush. “Really? A woman in the twelfth century did all that?”

  “She sounds incredibly talented.”

  “There’s more. She wrote theological, botanical and medicinal texts, as well as poems, songs and letters to popes and emperors.”

  “She keeps impressing me more and more.”

  “Yeah. Pretty prolific. Oh, this is good. Here’s a great quote: ‘Woman may be made from man, but no man can be made without woman.’”

  “A lesbian?”

  “I doubt it. More like a feminist, maybe? She even went on speaking gigs, unheard of in the twelfth century, I’m sure.”

  “So, what’s this about?”

  “According to my histories, if they are, in fact, mine, my Hanta was charged with killing her before she could accomplish all of this.”

  “The reason why your family ended up with this lovely legacy?”

  “You think that’s what happened? You think Magdalena refused and in doing so, cursed us forever?”

  “Something did.”

  “Why don’t we find out?” Denny moved back to the Sanctuary and continued reading.

  ****

  The Histories

  Twelfth Century

  It has been ten days since I last wrote and there is much to tell. The demon within is called a Hanta Raya. They typically are handed down from one generation to the next...a curse for the family chosen.

  Since I have chosen to be God’s bride, I am the perfect choice for this legacy. It will die with me, but he need not know that. All he needs to know is that he is expendable to his Master. Pathetic fool of a demon. They are all expendable once they are of no use.

  After a week, when he realized I would never take her life, he came back to me and told me he would allow me to live as long as I
agreed to let the legacy take root within me. All I need do is agree to a few stipulations and he would release me from any notion of killing Hildegarde.

  I, of course, agreed. I agreed to care for myself, to document my trials, and to hunt for other demons roaming the earth. If I am willing to destroy other demons in order to feed the one within me, then I’ll not have to destroy another human. It seems little price to pay to save Hildegarde.

  Save Hildegarde.

  It has now become the second most important role I have on this earth, behind serving our Lord, and if allowing this demon inside me to destroy other demons will keep her safe, then that is precisely what I shall do. My Lord will care for me. My Lord will protect me.

  I suppose his Master could send others after her if he wanted. According to my research, Asmodeus enjoys playing games with humans so much and so often, he might not remember sending my demon after Hildegarde for weeks, or even months, or even years.

  All I know is that I must get as far away from her as possible, and if the Hanta has decided to allow this, then the Lord has heard my prayers. I shall exchange my life for hers by agreeing to serve as host for this Hanta Raya…this great demon.

  Now, all I need do is leave the abbey, the city, the country, and pray the Lord watch over her. She has so much to offer. I am certain she will do great things.

  Denny looked up at Rush. “Well, that was an understatement.”

  “Ya think? She gave up her life and her career as a nun to save Hildegard, but it looks like our little nun didn’t stay married to the Lord, though, did she?”

  Denny flipped through the book and quickly scanned several passages. “Looks like she left the abbey and moved to Paris.”

  “Oh, good choice. I’ve always wanted to go.”

  Denny glanced up, but didn’t reply. “She fell in love with a young man and had his child. Looks like she didn’t stay married to her Lord after that.”

  “Starting the legacy she thought she would end with her.”

  “Right. In the meantime, the Hanta betrayed Asmodeus by not killing a woman who may have single-handedly kept the Catholic Church alive in this early part of the twelfth century.”

  “Wait. Wait. If Ass-mo wanted a twelfth century woman killed, he must have known she would do great things. Can they...can they see into the future?”

  “Beats the hell out of me, but it’s clear that he feared her enough to want her dead.”

  Rush came off the desk and looked at the computer screen where she read silently for a few minutes. “Wait. Den, look. Says here Hildie had visions. Wrote books about them, even. You don’t suppose one of those visions has anything to do with all this, do you?”

  “I don’t know and I don’t have time to read thick medieval literature right now, but I know who does.” Denny quickly replied to Lauren’s email and asked her to read the vision books by Hildegarde and see if there was anything in them about battling demons.

  “That Lauren is a font of wisdom,” Rush said softly. “One of the smartest women you know and yet, you never listen to her.”

  “I listen to her!”

  “No, baby, you don’t. If you did, you’d be getting some sleep right now. You’d get your ass back in school. You’d take better care of yourself. She’s seldom wrong, you know?”

  “I know. I know. I’ll get some sleep in a few. Anyway, the Hanta jumped ship—changed teams. He betrayed Asmodeus and began this legacy without the Demon Prince. Clearly, Asmodeus hasn’t been successful in killing him, but I wonder how long he’s been trying.”

  Rush floated over to the bookshelf. “You’ve got hours and hours of reading time ahead of you to find that out.”

  “Or...maybe not.” Rising, Denny plucked one of her mother’s journals from the shelf. “Maybe he’s only come after my family because of something my mother knew. Ames said that Asmodeus could wait centuries...even a millennium before exacting revenge. So...why now?”

  Rush stood closer to Denny.

  Denny sat down with the journal and caressed the stained leather cover. “Why now?”

  ****

  Gwen’s Journal

  I have discovered yet another drawback to being possessed (Is it never ending?). The more demons the Hanta consumes, the darker my own soul becomes. Robert has noticed a slight edge to me that never existed before. I have more violent daydreams—like thoughts of cutting the head off the woman who stepped in front of me in line at the post office. I understand this is normal for someone with a Hanta as old as mine.

  And it is old.

  Dating back to the twelfth century, it appears that it has actually managed to keep the legacy intact after all these centuries...growing stronger, I suppose, for that inevitable day when his Master seeks retribution. There are times when I feel its fear. As odd as it sounds, it truly wants to live, even if that life is within me. There are moments when that fear is palpable.

  I fear that day—for my family, for myself. To be caught up in a war between demons isn’t exactly what every little girl dreams of for her life. There are times when I wonder if it was responsible bringing children into this world knowing what I am. I wonder if it was right.

  I’ll never know.

  What I do know is that Robert is beginning to fear me. He is pulling away. Perhaps, in the end, that might be best for him. There are times when I can see that fear in his eyes.

  What I dread is that the number of demons required to sate the Hanta’s appetite will bring on Asmodeus’s unwanted attention.

  Perhaps we will be as lucky as the last fifteen or so hunters and escape the inevitable battle between them.

  One can only hope.

  ****

  “Check out her math,” Rush said, pulling away from looking over Denny’s shoulder. “Asmodeus has come after your guy at least once before...and your demon lived to tell about it. That’s heartening.”

  Denny let her fingers trail over her mother’s words. “She was really into this, wasn’t she?”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that. She made the best of a bad situation, baby. Don’t think for one second that she enjoyed it. She didn’t.”

  “But she got dark. How did she manage to stave off complete darkness?”

  “The better question is how are you going to? Already, you slaughter them on a nightly basis. How are you planning on holding onto your humanity?”

  Denny turned the pages of a life lived in complete secrecy, in total darkness.

  Well, not total.

  Her mother had somehow managed to beat back the evil corrupting her soul.

  Turning blank page after blank page, Denny shrugged. “She either wrote in invisible ink, or she just stopped writing.”

  “Your mother never stopped writing, and she would have definitely left you some sort of clue in the event you took on the Hanta.”

  Both of them looked over at the locked chest.

  “We need to get in there.”

  “You don’t think—”

  “I sure as hell do...and I think we know the perfect person to get that trunk open.” Denny rose.

  “That witch?”

  Denny nodded. “That witch.”

  ****

  Denny took off Cassandra’s blindfold and left her standing in front of the trunks.

  “Umm...wow.” Cassandra’s eyes drank in the Sanctuary’s mysterious vibe. “Oh my, hunter, you certainly are full of surprises, aren’t you?” Cassandra did not move a step, but knelt down and extended her hands, palms out, toward the first locked chest. “Oh yes...yes. This one has been sealed with magic.”

  “Magic? What kind of magic?”

  Cassandra rose. “The kind well out of my reach, I’m afraid. Whoever sealed this did so to protect the objects within as well as the people without. It was sealed with dark magic by someone who wanted it kept shut. You’d best keep it as it is.”

  Denny knelt down and ran her hand over the intricate carvings on the lid. It looked like someone had etched a story out of the wood. There
were carvings of animals, of the sun and the moon. “What can you make of these?”

  Cassandra stayed where she was and leaned over. “It looks like some sort of story or message. And no, I can’t even imagine what it says. It’s...well...it appears out of order.” Looking over at Denny, Cassandra shook her head slightly. “You must be very careful, hunter.”

  “Damn it. I need what’s in here.”

  “Don’t give up hope, lover. Just because I can’t open it doesn’t mean someone else can’t. In all honesty, it doesn’t even mean you should.” Cassandra lightly touched Denny’s cheek. “I’ll check around—do a little leg work.” Cassandra ran her hand between Denny’s thighs. “Got time for a little...between the legs work?”

  Denny looked over Cassandra’s shoulder and saw Rush glaring at her. “Don’t. I mean…not now. I—”

  Cassandra pulled back. “I’m sorry. Bad timing is my specialty. Maybe later...after we quell your Magyar?”

  Denny nodded and slid the blindfold back in place.

  “Keep that for later...” Cassandra purred. “It goes well with the pair of fur-lined handcuffs I brought with me.”

  Denny barely got her out of the room before Rush could be heard growling behind her.

  Half an hour later, after dropping Cassandra off at a nail salon, Denny drove to Ames’s house and showed him the three-foot cylinder she’d found in the chest.

  Ames’s face fell when he saw it. “That...that was your mother’s,” he said, taking it and looking it over. “Still in great condition. Wow.”

  “Yes, it is, but what is it?”

  Ames smiled, beaming at her. “It was her most powerful weapon of all. Its name is Saugen.”

  Denny looked quizzically. “Another German name?”

  Ames turned it over in his hand. “It means to suck. The Saugen has the potential to suck a demon from one who is possessed, but your mom never could quite master it. She preferred Fouet.”

  “Seriously? Why?”

  “It’s not easy to use.”

  “And Fouet is?” Denny touched the scar on her eyebrow she received the first time she tried using the chain whip. “What’s there to master? You suck it out and—”