Coven Betrayed (The Silver Legacy Book 4)

by Alex Westmore

  “No way,” Annalee said. “She can do that?”

  “The days of any sort of privacy are over. Big brother isn’t just watching—he’s recording. If anyone can figure this out, it’s her. She got us to the cathedrals, didn’t she?”

  “What do we do once we know what the picture is?”

  Everyone looked at Denny.

  “We find out where it is and off we go.”

  “Speaking of which, ladies, I am out of here. This is a very nice hotel, Goldy. Flight leaves at two for the Speyer Cathedral. Sleep tonight, ladies. And sleep in tomorrow. I am. Good night.”

  When Ames left, Iris leaned in. “Look, I know we’re all about saving the world and stuff, but it’s Friday night and we’re in Rome and—”

  “When in Rome!” Annalee said, holding up her drink. “I second whatever baby witch wants to do tonight.”

  Everyone clinked their glasses together.

  “Come on, DH, what do you say? A little fun is in order, right? If we’re going to die tomorrow, I’d rather not spend my last night watching Italian cable TV.”

  Denny thought for a moment. “First off, we are most certainly not dying tomorrow, or the next day, or the next.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I do. Look, I still have to feed him. I need to be at my fighting weight and I’m running a little low on fuel.” Denny looked at all of the fallen faces and held her hands up. “Okay, listen. I say we make our way to a small bar, and I’ll find someone along the way. Kill two birds, but we aren’t staying out all night.”

  “Yay!” Iris said, cheering. “Finally! Some fun!”

  Denny hung her arm off Iris’s shoulder. “You know what they say about ‘all work’, right?”

  “Makes somebody dull or something?”

  Denny shrugged. “Fuck if I know.”

  They laughed all the way to the bar.

  “Wow. Retro,” Annalee said when they walked into a gay bar. A large disco ball hung in the center of a dance floor that had seen better days.

  “The eighties called and no one answered.”

  Denny chuckled. “Have fun, but don’t get involved.”

  Cassandra chuckled. “Oh, hunter, you are so amusing. None of us will be getting ‘involved’. We’re here to have a drink, dance a little, and enjoy some beautiful sights.”

  As Cassandra strode up to the bar, Annalee leaned over to Denny and said, “Why doesn’t that make me feel any better?”

  “You and me both. Iris, keep an eye on her, will you?”

  “Why is it my turn to watch the loosest slit machine in Vegas?”

  Annalee turned to Denny. “Did she say ‘loosest slit machine’?”

  “How many drinks have you had?”

  “Not enough.”

  “Come on. First round’s on me.”

  “So are second, third, and fourth.”

  Denny peeled away and told the bartender to run a tab. Then she handed him two hundred Euros. “I’m going to check out back. See if I can’t find a quick meal. Be right back.”

  Denny pushed the bar across the back door and walked out into the smelly alley at the back of the bar. The base of her spine tingled slightly.

  She’d taken three steps from the door when it opened.

  “Hello.” The woman lit a cigarette and blew out a long thin line of light blue smoke.

  Denny smiled. “Hey.”

  “You American?”

  “No, actually. Canadian.”

  The woman grinned. She wore a nose ring, a lip ring, and had blond hair with a pink stripe in it. “Whereabouts?”

  “Vancouver,” Denny answered, wondering if she should move beyond such small talk.

  “Sweet.”

  “You?”

  She blew out a ring of smoke. “American School in Paris. That’s why I thought you were American. You guys sound American.”

  “Ah well.” Denny got two steps away when the tingling of danger nearby suddenly surged. She barely got her arm up in time to prevent a baseball bat that came out of nowhere from crushing her head.

  “Shit!” Her bone crunched beneath the wooden bat, but she made no other noise as the Hanta rose up protectively to take care of the imminent danger.

  Denny shoved her palm into the woman’s chest and pushed her eight feet away, where she landed with her back against the brick wall.

  The woman looked up at her and grinned. “Is that the best you got, hunter?” Slowly standing up, she straightened her clothes. “A Legacy, eh? I haven’t ever met one of you. I hear your kind are quite the badasses.”

  Denny slowly reached into her vest and pulled out Epée. “Oh, sweetheart, you have no fucking idea just how bad we are.”

  The woman cracked her neck. “Impress me, then. Let’s see how well an archaic demon fights against a more modern attack.” The woman pulled out a Sig Sauer sidearm from her waistband. “I’ll bet ten dollars my Sig spanks your silly little scimitar sword.”

  Denny looked at the Sig pointed at her and suddenly, the Hanta wasn’t just alive…it was hungry for the woman’s soul. “Bring it, little girl,” Denny growled. Let’s see if you can pull that trigger before I break your fucking neck.” Denny started toward her and flicked her wrist, forcing Epee from the cylinder.

  The woman lowered the Sig slightly. “Whoa. Stop. I mean, don’t make me shoot you. That’s not what I’m here for.”

  Denny forced herself to stop and stood with her feet shoulder width apart, Epée glowing in the semi-darkness of the alley. Something about this didn’t feel right. “No? Then what are you after? My body?”

  The woman smirked. “Oh, that would definitely be a bonus to this job. Sadly, no. Killing you is not in my job description today.”

  “What job is it, then?”

  “All I want are the pieces of the puzzle. Give them over and live to see your children possessed.”

  Denny cocked her head. This woman was no demon. No witcher, either. So, witch then. Why would a witch attack her? Why here? Why now? “Puzzle?”

  “Don’t play coy, hunter. We both know what is going on here.”

  “Why would a witch want the pieces? It’s not like you can stop what’s about to happen.”

  “And you can? Five Americans abroad and you honestly think you have what it takes to stop this? You’re the reason it’s happening. You and your mother.”

  The Hanta flared inside, wanting to rip this witch’s limbs apart. She could feel it. She could feel herself losing control to a Hanta who very much cared about his former host. “My...mother?” Denny took a step closer. “Look, you dumb bitch,” the Hanta growled, preparing to spring and cut her head off. “You don’t get to speak ill of my mother and live. I’m gonna love tearing you apart.”

  The woman tilted her head in the same direction as Denny’s. “The entire supernatural world is after your mother and you’re worried about the way I’m talking about her…”

  “You ought to be more concerned about the way I am talking about you.”

  The witch took a step back and found herself pressed up against the filthy wall. “Gather yourself, hunter. Clearly, you have been misinformed if you do not yet understand that your mother is the central figure in this mess.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Denny lowered her weapon slightly.

  “Who is it you think they’re after?”

  Denny tamped the Hanta back down as the truth of the witch’s words flowed over her. Suddenly, she felt totally confused. “Uh...me and my witch.”

  The woman surprised her by laughing. “Seriously? You have got to be kidding me. God, they said you were young, but they never said you were stupid. Of course they’re after your mother. Why the fuck do you think she’s here? Why do you think her witch brought her to Europe?”

  Denny blinked. She’d been asking herself that ever since they left the States.

  “If you believe they’re after you and your novice little witch, then you really do need to hand over the
pieces, because you’re so far out of your league, you’re playing a different game.”

  In a move so fast it caught even Denny herself off-guard, the Hanta took over completely, flew right past the gun, and pinned the woman to the brick wall with one hand on her throat.

  The gun clattered to the ground as Denny pushed her face into the witch’s. It was apparent that her Hanta was done playing games. “You’d better fucking tell me how my mother fits into this or I will tear your fucking head off your shoulders and use it for a disco ball.” The Hanta’s intense voice was scalpel sharp and precise.

  The woman’s eyes bulged from the pressure; her hands clawed at Denny’s wrist. “Can’t…breathe.”

  “Start. Talking.”

  The back door swung open, but Denny did not take her eyes from the woman’s, nor did she bother to retract Epée still in her left hand. “Speak up now or you will never speak again.”

  “Put her down, hunter,” Cassandra ordered.

  “Fuck off, Cassandra,” Denny growled, squeezing the woman’s neck tighter. “Disco ball, bitch, and I’m not playing around.”

  “Hunter, you know I cannot allow you to harm another witch. You know that.”

  Denny’s head whipped around, all traces of her humanity gone. “What part of Fuck Off do you not understand? Get in my way and your head will hang beside hers.” Denny whirled back around. “What is it I don’t know, witch? Tell me what I need to know about my mother, and you both might be lucky enough to walk away from here tonight.”

  Cassandra raised her hands and began an incantation.

  Her movement did not go unnoticed.

  Denny sheathed Epée and, while still pinning and choking the young witch, tossed it high in the air. As it rose, she half-turned toward Cassandra and punched her in the middle of her chest with an open palm. Cassandra flew back against the wall, the air completely knocked out of her, her head banging against the wall.

  “Cast a spell on me again, and it will be the last spell you ever cast.” Denny caught the cylinder as it descended. She was barely a passenger in her body now, as the Hanta was all in and growled into the young witch’s face. “Where. Is. She?”

  “I don’t...I...”

  Denny eased up a little on her throat. She could hear Cassandra trying to take a breath.

  “If you think I won’t kill you here and now, you are quite mistaken. If you think that slut on the ground can save you, that would be mistake number two. Threes strikes and you’re out for good, so keep that in mind before you answer. You have ten seconds to tell us what we want to know or I’ll tear your fucking throat out. One.”

  Us?

  The Hanta never referred to them as two separate entities.

  Always one.

  Always.

  “Hunter, please. Control yourself.”

  Denny glared over her shoulder at Cassandra. “Keep it up, and you’re next.” Returning her face to her quarry, Denny asked once more, “Where?”

  “I…I don’t know where they are. Nobody does.” The young woman’s voice shook.

  Two.

  Denny fought to regain some control over her body, but the Hanta wasn’t having any of it.

  “My...my job…was to get the pieces from you. That’s it. That is all I know. I swear.”

  Three.

  Denny glared into her face and considered killing her anyway.

  Four.

  “Time is running out, sweet pea.” The Hanta’s rage was all-consuming as Denny continued to fight her way into the driver’s seat.

  “I swear to the Goddess, it’s not your witch they’re after. That much I know for sure. Think about it. She’s a fucking rookie. A novice. A noob.”

  Five.

  “She’s a seventh.”

  Six.

  “Hunter...please don’t do...this,” came Cassandra’s voice. “Get some control. Fight!”

  Seven.

  Denny squeezed her neck harder. “Then who? Who is everyone so fucking afraid of?”

  Eight.

  “Valeria!” the young witch choked out. “Everyone is looking for Valeria!”

  Nine.

  “You’re lying. I know you’re lying. I was told they were looking for a witch with a flower name. A flower name!”

  The woman, whose face was red and puffy now, tried to nod. “Yes.”

  The door swung open again, but Denny did not look. She knew who it was.

  “Dude—”

  Annalee and Iris.

  “Shut it, Annalee. All of you get the fuck out of here.”

  Ten.

  “Happy afterlife, bitch.”

  Before she could snap the woman’s neck, someone put a hand on her arm. “DH, come back, man. Don’t do this. You kill her and we’ll be fighting witchers, demons, witches, and everybody in between. Please. Get some control here. This isn’t you. It’s not. Fight.”

  Denny’s lip curled, her eyes slowly moving from the woman’s frightened eyes to Iris’s. Denny’s chest was heaving, and everything about her screamed possession. “Fuck. Off.”

  “Let her go, DH, Please. Killing her serves no purpose.”

  “Killing always serves a purpose.”

  Cassandra stepped up behind Annalee. “Lover, this is not you. Stop. Please.”

  Slowly blinking, Denny fought the angry Hanta for control. She inhaled a deep breath. In and out. In and out until she slightly relaxed her grip on the woman’s neck.

  “All the way. Let go, DH. She is not the enemy.”

  Nodding and blinking, Denny fought within herself to regain power from the Hanta. It was never easy once he was that far in control. He thrived on it, as all demons did, and wrestled with her for a moment more before slowly receding into the background.

  She finally released the woman’s neck, feeling the Hanta give in.

  “There you go. Keep breathing.”

  Denny nodded, breathed deeply, and stepped away from the woman.

  “Now,” Annalee asked. “What in the hell is going on out here?”

  Denny turned to the woman, who was rubbing her reddened neck. “Tell her.”

  She nodded, rubbed her throat, and then cleared it. “The hunter thought the witchers were after you, but that is not the case. You are a little fish to them right now, which is why you are still alive. They need you to lead them to their prey.”

  “Which is whom?” Cassandra asked.

  “They are after Valeria mostly, and Golden’s mother secondly. The Kramers want Gwen Silver. The witchers and demons want Valeria. You all are the bread crumbs they are following.”

  “So we are leading them to Valeria and Gwen Silver,” Cassandra said, rubbing her sore chest bone.

  “Exactly. Since you are attracting so much aggression, we thought it best and safest to relieve you of the clues so you could take the heat while we locate Valeria.”

  “And my mother. Don’t forget my mother, witch.”

  Cassandra lightly touched Denny’s arm. “Easy, hunter. This woman is not the enemy.”

  “Could have fooled me.”

  The young witch cleared her throat again. “Apparently, the hunter was told they were after someone with a flower name.”

  “Right. Iris.” Denny practically spat it.

  Iris shook her head. “Not me. Oh my God, it’s been there all this time.” To Denny, she explained, “It’s not me. It’s Valeria. God damn, I should have known this. I never…” She shook head. “Anyway, Valeria is a form of the word Valerian, which is a flower.”

  Denny leaned her head back and looked up at the moon. “Fuck.”

  “Is there anything else you can tell us?” Iris asked the young witch. “Because I can guarantee you one thing: if you are holding out on my hunter, I won’t be inclined to stop her next time.”

  The young witch shook her head. “Valeria...she...she has become too strong. She is the most powerful witch on the planet, and easily corruptible at this point. Everyone is afraid of her.” She locked eyes with Denny. “Ever
yone.”

  Denny’s glowered at her. “Everyone?”

  She nodded. “Everyone. Witchers, demons, witches, warlocks, druids, Satanic worshippers, you name it. She...” She shook her head.

  “She what?” Denny’s voice rose.

  “Calm down, DH. You’re scaring her.”

  Denny inhaled deeply through her nose. “I apologize for the knee jerk reaction of my Hanta. It...he...we…owe our lives to her.”

  She nodded. “I understand that, Golden Silver, I truly do, but you are all on the wrong path. We came to get on the right path.”

  “If the right path involves harming my mother or her…witch, then you’ll have to go through us to get them. We are far more dangerous than we appear. Comprende?”

  “Yes, but––”

  “No buts, honey. The only path I give two shits about is the one that leads to my mother.”

  The witch sighed. “Golden Silver, why do you think Valeria brought your mother to Europe? Of all places? Why here, when it would have been safer anywhere else in the world? Anywhere else.”

  Denny turned and stared at Cassandra, who stepped up next to her and placed a hand on Denny’s shoulder. “Easy, love. We need data and facts first. Do not just react. Please. She is not alone, and we do not wish to fight.”

  Returning her gaze to the young witch, Denny stared at her a long time, waiting.

  “What is here that she couldn’t get anywhere else?”

  Cassandra tightened her grip on Denny’s shoulder. “Oh. My. Oh love…”

  Denny shook her head. “What? I don’t understand.”

  “Think, hunter,” Cassandra whispered. “Valeria brought your catatonic mother to Europe, to where it all started. She brought her here a week before the autumnal equinox—one of four nights when the wall between worlds is at its thinnest.”

  Denny felt like she’d been kicked. “Are you suggesting that Valeria intends to take my mother to the seam?”

  “Your mother has been catatonic for years. Without a demon––”

  Denny held her hand up. “No. I refuse to believe that Valeria would do that to her.”

  “If there is nothing else you can tell us, you are free to go.” Iris motioned to Annalee to get the young witch out of there as she and Cassandra helped Denny through the alley and out to a bench on the street.