“Most of the blood isn’t mine, big guy. Relax before you––”
Too late. Victor went down like a tipped cow. He always fainted at the sight of blood.
“Shit.” Denny pulled her shirt off, wiped her arms and face with it, and used her sweatshirt to cradle Victor’s head. “Sorry, big guy.”
Once her hands and face were clean, she pulled the visor down and opened the lighted mirror. “Oh man,” she said, examining the three-inch slash bisecting her eyebrow. “Jesus.” She cleaned the cut enough to Super Glue the two sides together and then picked pieces of demon out of her hair before helping Victor to his feet.
“You okay?”
He swallowed and nodded. “That...was a lotta blood.”
“Fortunately, most of it wasn’t mine.”
“Then whose was it?”
“Long story, but I’m fine. Thank you for bringing me this stuff.”
“Girl, you need more than Super Glue. That thing needs stitches. What happened?”
“Can you wait? I’m...I’m not sure what happened, but I think it’s time I figured it out. I...I’m, pretty sure I just killed a demon.”
“Wait. Whaddaya mean killed?”
“Would you believe me if I told you I cut it in half and then it imploded?”
“No shit?”
“No shit. Now I’m going in to Crystal Palace to buy stuff for a séance.”
Victor looked at her, dubious. “You’re not kiddin’ me, are you?”
“I wish I were, but no. Would you mind waiting while I get some sage and other stuff?”
Victor held Denny’s chin and examined the gash. “Not at all, but I think you oughtta get this looked at. It’s pretty deep. What the hell made this cut?”
“You sure you want to know?”
“Absolutely.”
Denny pulled Fouet and Épée from her backpack and with a snap of her wrists, the air crackled and hummed and Fouet sizzled and bit the air.
“Meet Fouet and ––”
Victor fainted again.
“Yeah, that’s kinda how I feel,” she said.
***
She felt like she’d been holding those weapons her whole life. They were an extension, just like Ames had said––a part of her being that seemed to know, before she did, what needed to be done. Denny never imagined having the power to slice through a human body. And therein lay the crux of her problem as she rifled through the books in her lair.
Her lair.
She’d stopped thinking about it as being her mom’s. No. It was hers now, and for better or worse, she was taking on the role of demon hunter whether she wanted to or not. What she needed to know was whether she had just killed a human being and was a murderer or if she had destroyed a demon.
She found the answer in a book titled The Killing of Demons and Witches.
As Denny read, she realized killing a witch could get you thrown in prison for murder, but not so with all demons. If a human has been possessed, and you strike it with your armes magiques, or magical weapons, they will cut through the demon and purge it from the body. If, however, a demon is walking around in human form, uh...well, she’d seen the result of that action. They explode. Combust. Make a huge mess.
Well, at least she didn’t have to worry about the cops knocking on her door.
Denny set the book aside and picked up Gwen’s journal. She wanted to know what her first kill had been like, even though she couldn’t even imagine her kind-hearted mother pulling a weapon out and blowing a demon to bits. Where had she kept...then it dawned on her. Gwen had constantly carried around this big purse––the kind you could live in. It had been off limits to the kids, who had always teased her about it. Is that where she kept her armes magiques?
Thinking about that big purse triggered other memories about her mother, the demon hunter. She loved Doc Martens, which was why both Pure and Denny wore them. Denny had learned about using Super Glue to close wounds from her as well. Gwen had a cut on her chin once and was in the process of applying the glue when Denny walked in on her. She remembered it as if it was yesterday. Gwen told her she’d banged herself on the sink.
And those leather “driving gloves” she always wore. Always. No one wore gloves in Savannah in summer.
The puzzle that was her mother began to fill in.
Flipping to an earlier section, Denny reached for her glasses, but they were not on the top of her head.
“Shit.”
She’d just had them on when she was reading the Killing book. Before she began looking for them, she glanced at the page of the journal she wanted to read.
It was perfectly clear.
Blinking, and then rubbing her eyes, Denny stared down at the page. To her surprise she could make out every word.
She’d been wearing reading glasses since she was twelve and hadn’t seen a clear page without them in forever—and yet, there they were––words as clear as they were when she was a kid.
“What the hell?”
Denny felt both excited and a little scared. What was happening to her?
She thought maybe she could see because of Fouet and Épée, but they were not with her. Then she thought it was because of the triquetra necklace, so she took it off.
Everything was still perfectly clear.
Denny took some deep, cleansing breaths and plunged into reading about her mother’s first kill.
~~~
It was easier than I thought, slicing the demon into tiny bits with Épée. The seven or eight pieces lay quivering on the ground as if trying to find a way to reconnect. Then, the most bizarre thing occurred––he blew up. Blood and guts spewed everywhere until there was nothing left but detritus.
Demon detritus.
As grotesque as it was, there was something satisfying in knowing he could not come back to life. He had done some horrifically vile things in his time here. It was a pleasure to put him out of our misery...but a pleasure that was short-lived.
Why short-lived?
I had to wonder what killing those creatures would do to my psyche. While these demons do not deserve to live, there is a heavy weight in being judge and executioner.
It is a yoke I am only now getting used to––a responsibility handed down to me from my mother and her mother. It is our legacy, and though I have no idea what this will mean to my life down the road as wife and mother, I know that right now, it is a job, a duty, and a moral obligation. It is our calling, and I will not turn my back on our family legacy.
Not now.
Someday, maybe, but for now, I am the demon hunter.
~~~
Denny closed the book and shook her head. Gwen seemed to have donned the label without any questions. Maybe grandmother had explained it to her before she died, so that she wasn’t walking around as lost as Denny was, with so many unanswered questions. Or maybe she just embraced the life changing mantel her mother had.
Whatever it was, she breezed right to the next kill. She called them prey or quarry. Maybe that made it feel less...personal.
Killing, even when you don’t know the person, feels personal. At least, it did for Denny. Even though she wasn’t angry or afraid, there was still an element of––
Wait.
Why wasn’t Denny afraid?
Two young men coming at her, obviously to do her harm, and she wasn’t the least bit afraid? As a matter of fact, she relished the notion of cleaving them in two.
What was wrong with her?
Denny checked the clock and realized she had less than an hour before the people taking part in the séance arrived. Time to smudge, light the candles, and find out what the hell had happened to her lover.
***
Once the introductions were done, Brianna sat to the right of the head of the table and told Denny to sit across from her.
“Cassandra will arrive shortly. She’s the head of our Séance Committee.”
Denny stared at her.
“Yes, we have a Séance Committee. We also
have a committee on Magic, Spells, and Potions.”
One of the other women, Seline, cleared her throat. “Bri?”
“Jesus Christ, Seline, Golden Silver talks to ghosts. You think she doesn’t know about Wiccan magick and other supernatural phenomenon?”
“I’m saying I don’t believe it wise to talk to someone outside the coven about what we do. You know the rules.”
“And that right there is the problem. As long as we find comfort in the closet, we’ll never be free of the stigma attached to our way of life,” another of the women said.
“That’s enough out of both of you,” Brianna said. “We’re guests in Denny’s home and you will comport yourselves accordingly.”
Denny looked at the two women, both of whom backed down.
“Thank you. Now, Denny, did you prepare as directed?”
Denny nodded. “Saged, incensed, lit white candles.”
“Excellent. Now, I...” Brianna stopped talking and leaned as far across the great table as she could. “Uh...Denny, can we get everyone a glass of water? We never know how long this is going to take.”
Denny pushed away from the table. “Sure.”
Brianna followed Denny into the kitchen where she grabbed her and examined her face.
“What the hell happened here?” she asked, running her finger gently over Denny’s Super Glued eye brow.
“Uh...cut myself shaving?”
“Not funny.” Brianna stepped back. “That needs stitches.”
“I know, but I don’t have time. I’m a fast healer, don’t you worry.”
“I’d worry less if I knew what happened. It looks like someone cut you with a knife.”
Denny looked into Brianna’s deep blue eyes and knew that if she wasn’t careful, Brianna would fall hard for her, and that was a complication she did not need right now.
“I merely made the mistake of cutting through the cemetery. Two guys started fucking with me.”
Brianna’s hand went to her mouth. “Oh no.”
“He split my eyebrow, I bashed his teeth in, and I can tell you that he’ll never come at me again.”
“How scary. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Were you scared?”
“Honestly, I’m more afraid of tonight.” Denny placed twelve glasses on a tray and filled the pitcher with ice.
“Tonight? The séance? How come?”
Denny poured water into each of the glasses. “What if Rush doesn’t come through? What if she never returns? I’m back where I started, wondering if I will ever have the chance to say goodbye.”
“If she doesn’t or can’t, at least we might have more information about her disappearance and where she is than you have right now. Um, do you want some help with that tray? It’s going to be really heavy.”
Denny lifted the tray with little effort. “Nope. I got it.”
Brianna stared as Denny easily held a tray full of a dozen glasses and a pitcher of ice water.
“She’s here,” someone shouted from the dining room.
“Have faith, Denny.” She took the pitcher from the tray and headed back to the dining room.
“Rush?” Denny said in a hushed voice. “If you can hear me, please, please, please find some way of letting me know you’re all right. Please.”
Denny set the tray on the table before extending her hand to a tall woman who had just entered the room.
She wore a purple cape with her hood drawn, and after shaking Denny’s hand, she pushed her hood back.
“Golden Silver, this is Cassandra. She’ll be leading the séance tonight.”
Cassandra’s penetrating gaze made Denny feel like a bug under a microscope. “I understand your spirit has vanished and you wish to know if she is going to return.”
Denny nodded, slowly extricating her hand from Cassandra’s. “Yes. She’s been in the house since we moved in thirteen years ago. Suddenly, nothing.”
“And we are speaking of Rushalyn Holbrook.”
“Yes. I need to know...if she needs help.”
“Help? Interesting.” Cassandra’s eyes were riveting.
“Denny has done all of the required pre-séance preparations, Cassandra. We’re ready to proceed.”
Cassandra had not taken her eyes off Denny’s. “There is...something else.” She stared deep into Denny’s face, her eyes searching. Something almost...but not quite...evil.”
Denny said nothing.
“Cassandra!” Brianna barked.
“Something deeper...darker even.”
“Rush and I are...very close.”
Cassandra waved the remark away. “No, I this feel has nothing to do with Rushalyn Holbrook. There is something...about you.”
Denny forced herself not to look away.
“Whatever it is, Golden Silver, is at the heart of all of this,” Cassandra waved her arms in the air. “But we shall not know until we call her forth. Let us get started.” She whipped off the long cape and was the only one who looked, to Denny, like a Wiccan, her long black hair, and her heavy mascara.
“Now, are you certain you truly want to open this door to the spirit world?” Cassandra asked Denny. “We cannot control who comes through it.”
Denny nodded and folded her hands in front of her. “I’m positive.”
“Are there any skeptics or nonbelievers in this room or nearby?”
No one answered.
“Your little sister?” Brianna asked Denny.
“Is at a friend’s,” Denny said.
Cassandra cleared her throat. “Is anyone here fearful or nervous?”
No one replied.
Cassandra motioned to a redhead sitting next to Brianna. “Rose, the recorder, please.”
Rose set a small recorder in the middle of the table.
“Excellent. Now, everyone close your eyes––”
“Don’t we hold hands?”
Cassandra gave Denny a patronizing smile. “Not necessarily. Would you rather?”
Denny nodded. “Please.”
Cassandra offered her warm hand. “Now please, close your eyes, breathe deep, and think of Rushalyn. I shall contact my spirit guide and request her assistance on our journey. I will also ask her to escort Rushalyn to us, if that is possible. Begin now.”
Denny pictured Rush’s face, heard her voice, her laughter. She missed her more than she would have thought possible.
Several moments passed when Cassandra inhaled deeply, as if surprised by something. “The door is opening.” Cassandra muttered something in a language Denny didn’t understand.
After a long pause, she spoke again. “My spirit guide says she is not alone. There are...yes...I understand...what is that? I don’t believe...no...I did feel something. Yes. I don’t...It’s hard to hear you. What is that other––”
The lights flickered; the candles all blew out. Cassandra inhaled like a person who had been underwater too long.
Then, nothing.
Silence permeated the air. Everyone waited. Nobody moved. Denny felt her heart banging inside her chest.
“Patience,” Cassandra whispered. “It’s com––”
“Where’s the Hanta?” The voice that came from Cassandra was not hers. It was accusing, deep, angry. She almost sounded male. “The Hanta. How dare you bring a Hanta to my domain.”
Denny’s eyes flew open. Brianna was staring at Cassandra who was glaring at her accusingly.
“I...I’m not sure,” Brianna answered. “I’ve...never seen––”
“Silence!” Cassandra ordered in a commanding male voice. “Do not dare speak to me. You, who are so ignorant you do not see what is before you. Your very own destruction. It will be your destruction, not mine.”
“Where is Rush?” Brianna asked. “Rushalyn Holbrook. Where is she?”
“You have no power here, witch.” The gravelly voice coming from Cassandra was creepy and harsh.
“I’m not planning on using any. We merely want to know––”
<
br /> “Where that little cunt Rushalyn is. Well let me tell you. Her days of––”
“Shut your fucking mouth.” Denny rose as Cassandra’s head turned toward her with unseeing eyes. “You shut your goddamned mouth.” Denny began breathing heavily and felt the now familiar warmth begin to flow through her. “You hurt her and there’s no place you can hide––”
Suddenly, Cassandra pushed away from the table, screaming over and over, “Hanta! Hanta! Get away from me. Get. A. Way.”
Cassandra’s body sagged in her chair. Several women immediately went to her side and opened smelling salts.
Brianna’s eyes never left Denny’s. “Seline, get Cassandra a glass of water. Rose, shut that off,” pointing to the recorder. “Shay, please turn the lights on.”
The Wiccans scattered. A few continued to tend to Cassandra while others made sure the doors and windows were locked. A couple of the women gathered the candles, utensils, incense, and recorder.
Denny stood and watched, her ire slowly melting away.
Brianna knelt and took Cassandra’s hands in hers. “Cassandra, come back to us.” She nodded for more smelling salts.
“I’m fine. Fine.” Cassandra sipped some water before she turned to Denny.
“Are you––” Denny started to ask.
“I’m fine. Really. It is not the first time a spirit has possessed me. I’ve forgotten how uncomfortable that feels.” Cassandra turned to Brianna. “Clear the room, please. Everyone leave but Golden.”
“But––”
“Do not question me, Brianna. Clear the room. We won’t be long.”
Brianna nodded and ushered the women out of the dining room.
Cassandra scooted her chair closer to Denny before sipping some more water. “Well then. That was rather unpleasant. Whatever you have, whatever you are, they are very, very afraid of you.”
“They? Who are they?”
“The spirits who have taken Rush. It...he...” she shook her head. “I have done this dozens of times. Never have I felt such abject fear as just now. Those spirits...they are more than spirits, Golden Silver, and they fear you. Very much.”
“You said the word Hanta. What does that mean? What the hell is a Hanta?”
Darkness Descends (The Silver Legacy Book 1) Page 18