Blood of the Demon (The Silver Legacy Book 3)

by Alex Westmore

  Denny wondered if the witch and the warlock were one and the same. “It may be sad, but it’s her choice you know? No wonder the witches here have nothing nice to say about her.”

  “Exactly. And so it’s not that she doesn’t like you. She obviously doesn’t even know you. It just makes her nervous to put others at risk because she’s already lost so much. I understand her now a little better. She’s had a rough go of it, DH. Really rough. Being an ass back to her is easier than being kind and understanding. I prefer we try to be kind and understanding.”

  Denny stopped in the shade of one enormous oak tree whose roots looked like something from a fantasy painting...like enormous snakes bursting from the ground. “Fine. I can try to be kinder to her, but I won’t kill the Vodouisants, Iris. I just can’t. Once I start killing human beings, I may as well let the Hanta take over and call it a day.”

  “Agreed. So what’s your plan?”

  “We need to see if any of the priestesses in the swamp are willing to help us.”

  “Well then, that’s as good a start as any. How can I help?”

  “We have to get to that Haitian village. See if the coven has anyone who will help us. You. They are more likely to talk to one of their own.”

  “Possibly, though they don’t seem to be very forthcoming with Valeria, and she’s their regional head banana.”

  “Maybe there’s a reason for that. I’ll go back to my contacts and see what I can find out. I’ll do some research on this source thing. Ames should be able to provide some insight. So will Lauren.”

  Iris smiled. “See? You have a plan already. That’s how you operate, DH. You plan. You gather intel. Peyton’s first response might always be one of violence or killing, but you’re not her. You have to do this your way, and there’s nothing wrong with that. She might think killing is the only answer for closing the rift, but that doesn’t mean she’s right.”

  Inhaling deeply, Denny started back to the plantation. “Thank you, Iris. I guess I have to stop acting like this is some kind of competition and just do my best to put Humpty Dumpty back together again.”

  Iris squeezed her hand, her gray eyes sparkling. “And so far, DH, your best is pretty damn awesome.”

  ***

  Denny returned to town to leave messages for everyone she considered a viable contact. Then she spoke to Lauren about demonic rifts, Ames about the Dybbuk, Sterling about returning home, and Wynn about Annalee’s ETA.

  She found out that Dybbuks run in packs, that Sterling was praying for her, and that Annalee, the legacy hunter Ames had contacted, was due from Florida any moment.

  After all her legwork, she ate at the Oyster House and crashed until nightfall, when she headed to the dark alleyways to find the only person who had really helped her.

  Louis.

  Alley after dark alley, Denny prowled, not even stopping to assist those plagued by thugs and hoodlums. The Hanta was well fed. It cared even less if humans were taken advantage of or abused. As far as it was concerned, they got what they deserved. That was its way.

  Narcissistic motherfucker.

  Finally, she found a bum drinking from a brown paper bag and wearing the same kind of Army jacket and beanie Louis had been sporting.

  “I’m looking for Louis.”

  The bum looked up, glassy-eyed. “No idear who you talkin’ ‘bout.”

  Denny described Louis, all the while feeling the Hanta getting twitchy.

  Twitchy. The feeling the Hanta got when it felt danger was near.

  “Oh...you mean Sarge?”

  Denny thought back to the worn Army jacket. Sergeant stripes had adorned the arm of one sleeve. “Yes. Sarge. Where can I find him?”

  “He poplar tonight. Two other fellas was lookin’ fer him earlier.”

  Denny felt her gut tighten and the Hanta moved from twitchy to wide awake. “Did they find him?”

  “Dunno. What day’s it?”

  “Friday.”

  He took a swig. “Ah then, I tol’ ’em he be down the alley behin’ Vern’s liquor store. They’s a kid who delivers who always gives him freebies. I dunno if—”

  But Denny didn’t stay for the rest. Whoever had been looking for Louis could very well have found him, and that meant he was possibly dead.

  When she got back to the urine-scented alley of the liquor store, she stood at the mouth of the narrow street and gazed in at the yawning darkness.

  The Hanta was wide awake now.

  Denny slowly withdrew Epée from her vest and checked her watch face to make sure Scudo, her shield, was on tap.

  Denny slowly inched her way down the disgusting street, her breath catching when she saw two booted feet sticking out from behind a dumpster. Only her Hanta’s heightened senses allowed her to see the boots through the darkness.

  Looking behind her, Denny cautiously approached the booted feet, knowing full well there was no life in them. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.

  As she peered around the dumpster, her breath caught once more. Sitting on his chest was Louis’s decapitated head—still wearing its beanie.

  “Oh, Jesus.” Squatting on her haunches, Denny stared into Louis’s unseeing eyes. “Oh man, I am so, so sorry.”

  That was when she saw it.

  A phone stuffed in his mouth.

  “What the fuck?”

  The Hanta was livid and pushing hard to gain control. Denny scanned the alley to make sure she was alone in case she couldn’t keep it under wraps.

  She slid the phone out between his rotting teeth and wiped it off on his jacket.

  The smartphone came to life in her hand, but it wasn’t ringing.

  A text message.

  Not just a text, a photo.

  “Shit.”

  Of Iris bound and gagged.

  “God damn mother fuckers.”

  The message in the photo read: Blue boat at the dock waiting. Her life depends on your speed.

  The Hanta rose within her like never before. She pocketed the phone and sprinted to the dock, her arms and legs churning. Denny leapt over park benches, bowled people over, and dashed to the dock, where a twenty foot, blue motorboat waited.

  Denny did not break stride as she went airborne and landed in the middle of the boat, practically tipping it over. Epée out and raised over her head, she glared through red eyes at the three men in the boat. “Where. Is. She?” The voice was all Hanta: mean, low, deep, and threatening. It felt like it was going to burst through her chest.

  The three men in the boat all held their hands up in surrender.

  “We will take you there, but put your weapon away and back the fuck off my men. All I have to do is press one button and your witch is dead.”

  Denny retracted Epée but did not put the cylinder away. “If she dies, so do you—so will all the rest of your fucked-up village.”

  The leader, a dark skinned man with slicked back hair and pock marked face held a phone in his hand. “Don’t be stupid, hunter. Sit. Relax, Follow my directions and your witch will live to see dawn. We do not wish to harm her.”

  Denny did not sit, but towered over the shorter man. “Who collected her?”

  “That’s not important.”

  “I beg to differ, little man. Whoever was foolish enough to take my witch should know they just grabbed a demon by the tail.” Denny did not move. “So if I were you, I’d save my men, you douchebag and just tell me what I want to know before I slice you all into tiny shit-bag pieces.”

  The younger man ran his hand through his hair and did his best to act unafraid. “I collected her. I made sure no harm came to her, as were my orders.”

  Denny gritted her teeth. “I wish I could say the same for you.”

  “You need to chill, man. This isn’t what you think.”

  “You have no fucking clue what I think.” Denny felt the Hanta’s eagerness to take over.

  “No, I do not, so let me tell you what I think. I think you need to take a breath, have a seat, and reel it in. All
that anger is no good for you, and if your demon harms us, the witch is a dead woman.”

  Denny slowly backed away. “If she’s been harmed at all, even a fucking splinter, you’re the first one I’ll cut into pieces and feed to the fucking fish.”

  “Easy. I told you, she is unharmed. Now let me get you to her so you can see for yourself.”

  Denny sat in silence as the boat left the dock and wound its way through the narrow pathways of the bayou. Denny couldn’t see a damn thing and was impressed by how well these yahoos navigated in the darkness.

  Clearly, this was not the first time.

  After several minutes, they pulled up to a rickety dock that had boards hanging on by a thread. Four armed men stood waiting. Denny guessed they were Haitians.

  “Goodness, a welcoming committee.”

  “They’ll take you to her. One word of advice—”

  “I don’t want your advice.” Denny stepped out of the boat and followed the four men to an area she was certain was part of the village.

  A fire burned brightly from a campfire ringed with stones. Rickety looking wooden chairs sat empty around the perimeter. By the light of the fire, she could see small wooden shacks on four fort stilts with uneven stairs leading to corrugated metal doors.

  The Hanta was trembling from an anger Denny had never felt from it. She knew she would have to be careful. She would need to keep her wits about her. She was all alone out here in a swamp she knew nothing about, in darkness like the inside of a cave. One wrong move and this could very well be where she would die, never to be found again.

  But the Hanta would make certain that didn’t happen.

  ***

  Denny was escorted to the chairs around the fire and told to sit.

  Sitting on the edge of one of the chairs, she wondered if there was any electricity out here. It was simply too dark to see anything. This felt primitive, aboriginal.

  “Wait here.”

  The leader went to converse quietly with a tall woman standing just outside the reaches of the fire’s eerie glow. They spoke in a language Denny was sure she’d never heard before as her eyes scanned for an exit strategy she knew she was going to need.

  “She’ll see you now,” said the small man as he walked back to her.

  “Yeah? Who the fuck is she?”

  “Mind your manners, hunter.” He pushed Denny back in the chair and held a sidearm gangland-style at her.

  The woman emerged from the shadows into the yellow light. She was tall and large boned, and wore a dozen or so bangle bracelets. Her colorful headscarf matched her dress, and she could have been forty or sixty. It was too dark to tell.

  “Welcome hunter. I am Hélène, the Mambo Asogwe in these parts. The highest priestess of our people.” Her voice was soothing with just a hint of Haitian or Jamaican.

  “I don’t really give a shit who you are. Where is she? What have you done with the witch?”

  “Control your demon, hunter. I would hate to have to kill you for no reason.”

  Denny started to rise. Four semi-automatics pointed at her. Denny and the Hanta ignored them all and stood facing Hélène. “I won’t ask you again. Where. Is. She?”

  Hélène moved her braceleted arm in the direction of a shanty. “Bring the witch.”

  Two men walked out with Iris in between them. She appeared, for the most part, unharmed.

  Relief flowed over Denny, at once calming the Hanta and making it want instant retribution. “Iris, you okay?”

  Iris started towards Denny, but the two men held her arms.

  “I’m going to kill you all,” Denny growled.

  “Once again, hunter, control your demon. This is not what you believe it to be.”

  “You’ve kidnapped my witch, lady. Of course this is what I think it is.”

  “I’m fine DH. They haven’t hurt me.”

  Denny turned on the woman. “Then what the hell is this? What do you want?”

  The woman motioned for Denny to sit and waited for her to do so before answering. “I believe we share the same interest in a demonic event occurring in our city.”

  “Honestly, I’m just about to the point where all I’m interested in is taking Iris out of this place and leaving you all to fend for yourselves.”

  Hélène warmed her hands on the fire, her bracelets tinkling against each other. “You see that’s just the problem. If you leave this to Farquar, she will kill those young teens on principle alone. Those are my people. Killing them will start a war with the rest of my people. The witches may or may not take her side. I doubt they would. No one here likes Farquar. Even if they did, the body count would stack up, and for what? It was an error in judgment. Those children do not deserve to die and I’ll not stand by while she contemplates killing them.”

  “What does any of this have to do with me? You all can eat each other’s brains for all I care. Just give me my witch and we’ll be on the first flight back to Georgia.”

  Hélène faced her. “I wish it was that simple. As you have no doubt surmised, those five teenage Vodouisants opened up a rift and the only safe way to close such a gaping hole is with the same Voodoo magic that opened it. Surely your witch has told you as much.”

  Denny cast a look over to Iris, who appeared more intrigued than afraid. “Maybe, Maybe not.”

  “I am sure Farquar and her very powerful witch friend believe that sending the youth into the rift is the only way to close it. They are incorrect. That is witch magic. If you kill them, I am not at all sure I can close it. The kids have scattered. I fear for their safety if Farquar finds them. She is not nearly as level-headed as you. Pure killer that girl.”

  “Can’t you just ring a cowbell or something?”

  A slight smirk rolled up the corners of Hélène’s mouth. “You think I haven’t tried? They are frightened. They know what they have done and they also know that Farquar will kill them as soon as look at them. I need your help to insure that does not happen. I need those boys back unharmed.”

  “In exchange for closing the rift. Does that about sum it up?”

  “It does, indeed.”

  “So why can’t you find them?”

  “Leaving the village now would leave my people vulnerable to attack from those demons as well as from Farquar herself. We are safer out here than in the city. I have people looking for them, but the swamp...it is enormous. They could be anywhere.”

  “So you want me to find them. Then what?”

  “Bring them to me. Together, we will close the rift they so foolishly opened and I will make sure they pay a price—but death is too high a price.”

  “I agree. You know, you could have just met me for coffee. You didn’t need to kill the poor homeless guy and stuff—”

  Hélène held her hand up. “What did you say? I have killed no one.”

  “Decapitated and left with the phone stuffed in his mouth? Does that ring a bell?”

  She whirled on the two men holding Iris. “I thought I told you––”

  “He was alive when we left him, I swear!” The pockmarked one raised his hand in surrender.

  The other ones nodded. “We did as you said, Mistress. We handed him the phone and bade him to find her.”

  Hélène’s face was a mask of smoldering anger. “This is the work of someone else.”

  “Someone who wanted me to show up here and kill you all.”

  “Yes. Louis was to explain to you that the witch was in safe hands. Good hands. She was merely the insurance I needed that you would come. He knew his role in this. His death was not part of the plan.”

  “And just how is it you knew he was connected with me?”

  Hélène tossed her head back and laughed. “I know you met with him at Du Monde. I know you bought him two orders. Nothing happens that I do not get wind of sooner or later, Hunter.”

  “Then why can’t you find the source?”

  “Voodoo magic is not like witch magic, hunter. Witches are tied to the earth with earth magic.
The concept of tying that exists in Haitian religious culture is derived from the Kongolese tradition of kanga. Kanga is the practice of tying one's soul to something tangible.”

  “Right. Like Voodoo dolls and shit.”

  Hélène sighed. “That is what Louisianan Voodoo entails. Voodoo does not. Because those demons coming from the rift are not tied to something tangible like a body, I cannot track their energy. By the time they enter a human, they are well away from the source. I am blind to them and they are invisible to me.”

  “Hélène, I really don’t give a shit anymore. I just want Iris and then we’ll get the hell out of Dodge. I don’t have a dog in this fight.”

  “Oh, but you do.”

  Denny frowned and looked at Iris.

  “Farquar’s witch will get caught in the crossfire trying to save the hunter. If you wish no harm to come to Valeria, you need to step back into the game right now, because believe me, she is not the most powerful piece on the board and is in danger.”

  The anger rising inside Denny wasn’t the Hanta now. No, this time, it was all Golden Silver.

  “Look, Hélène, some asshole is out there moving us like chess pieces, and I for one am tired of the game. I’ll find your Vodouisants ass-wipes and get them to lead us to the source, but I won’t do it without my witch. That’s no deal. Either she comes back with me tonight or you can all go fuck yourselves.”

  Hélène studied Denny. “You are nothing like Farquar, Hunter.”

  “Yeah, and thank god for that.”

  Hélène stood directly in front of Denny now gazing into her face. “And it is not because you are new, for surely your demon is quite ancient. It is...” She turned her head from side to side. “You actually care.”

  “For Peyton? Hardly. She’s an arrogant asshole I don’t have ti—”

  “For the young witch over there. You would risk your life right this very moment to save her.”

  “She’s my friend, and friends don’t let friends be held hostage by Voodoo priestesses.”

  Iris shook her head. “Are you kidding me with that? Somebody give me a knife so I can slit my wrists.”

  Denny smiled at Iris before returning her gaze to Hélène. “You’re right. I do care. About her and Valeria both. I’ll find your kids and bring them back unharmed if I can, but if they attack us and we have to defend ourselves, then all bets are off. I will not put my people at risk just to keep from harming yours.”