Just an FYI to the rest of you. They are on the move for some reason. They have an agenda. Read up on them. Know everything you can and stay frosty, folks...we’re in for a bumpy ride.
Denny read the last six words and decided she liked Peyton and hoped to meet him some day. He was a very adept and skilled hunter. At least thirty percent of the kills in the Black Book were his.
Impressive.
Denny closed The Kill Book and pushed away from the desk.
So, the Magyar demons were on the move? Was this a continuation of whatever had happened to Gwen?
Denny made a mental note to discuss the entries with Ames. Maybe he’d heard something about an offensive push. Surely, he would know about Gwen’s brush with the succubus.
As she rose to leave, she glanced toward the roll-top desk, hoping Rush was there.
Rush’s appearance had only been momentary. She was still letting Denny move on with her life without interference. It was as sweet as it was annoying.
“Fine. I get it. You’re still giving me my space. I understand, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
Crawling into bed, Denny looked at her phone and saw a missed phone call from Reese. She listened to the message and discovered that Reese wanted to see her in the morning. Closing her eyes, a number of faces swam across her mind’s eye: Rush, her mother, Brianna, Cassandra, Lauren, Iris, and Quick.
So much to do and she had no idea where to start.
But she knew someone who was much smarter than she was who had the means to find out.
Rolling over, she picked up her phone and called Lauren. “Hey. It’s me. I need your big brain.”
“Wow. With such sweet talking ways, how is it you’re still single?”
Denny couldn’t help but chuckle. “The names are Liderc, Valeria, Rasputin, and Asmodeus.”
“And a partridge in a pear tree?”
“Good night, Lauren.”
“Good night, sweet talker.”
“I’ve collected enough evidence to convince me that D.A. Carol and the defense attorney Jones, may have been in cahoots, but it’s not enough to convince the state to re-open Quick’s case.” Reese slid a folder over across the desk from where she sat.
“What do you need?” Denny paced across the small office in mid-town and flipped the folder open before sitting down.
“Geez, what don’t I need? I need more time. More evidence. Hell, a taped confession. Denny, if you go up against the D.A. and lose––”
“It’s not about me or my risks. It’s about getting Quick the hell out of there. It’s about not allowing my brother to serve time for a crime he didn’t commit.”
“D.A. Carol is a nasty piece of work, Denny. I’ve pulled his files, his cases, everything. Did you know when he first became D.A. he sent an eighty-two-year-old grandmother to jail on Christmas Eve because some puffed-up rent-a-cop caught her stealing a pair of nylons?”
“You’re kidding.”
“I wish I were. Now, here’s the interesting part. His opponents cut deals with him sixty percent more than the national average. Sixty percent.”
“He plays hardball.”
“No, Denny, he plays dirty. That’s why he’s so dangerous. The rules never apply to him.”
“He never offered Quick a plea bargain.”
“Because it appeared to be a slam dunk case.” Reese, in a brown leather bomber jacket and tight jeans, walked around her battered desk and handed Denny another file. “We have two witnesses who saw some guy coming out of the house wearing exactly what Quick described. Unfortunately, none of them could remember the face, nor were their statements offered into evidence.” She held up one hand. “No, it’s not enough.” Sitting next to Denny, she laid her hand on Denny’s thigh. ‘I’m going to be brutally honest, Denny. Unless we can come up with the actual killer, we simply do not have enough to go on.”
Denny rose. “Not yet. Keep at it. Keep digging. Let me see what I can come up with.”
Reese shook her head. “Already there are rumors about moving Quick out of the state.”
The blood drained from Denny’s face. “He can do that?”
“I told you. D.A. Carol doesn’t mess around. He could do that, and more. We’re talking solitary for months, transfers, even pinning other similar murders on Quick.”
“You said rumors.”
“I have sources, and yes, they are digging as we speak.”
Denny rose and strode across the tiny room. “But how? How can a man get away with that shit?”
“This is the South, Denny. Citizens want convictions. They don’t much give a damn whether the truth plays out––they just want to feel safe. His conviction rate is staggering. Off the charts.”
“Because he cheats.”
“Because he knows how to play the game.”
Grabbing the door handle, Denny paused. She had a very good idea of what that game looked like. “Thanks, Reese.”
“So keep digging?”
Denny nodded. “Keep digging. Our answers lay with one, if not both, of the attorneys.”
“You keep your head down, you hear?”
Denny walked out of the room without a reply, and thirty minutes later stood in Lauren’s dorm room as her friend worked a bank of five computers.
“Okay, here’s where both men live. I’ve Google-Earthed it for you. Look, there’s Carol’s silver Maserati.”
“He drives a Maserati?”
Lauren pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. “The guy makes bank for a public servant. Lives in the old Dodge estate.” Lauren pulled up a photo of the old yellow Victorian. It had a black wrought iron fence that stood nearly ten feet high. “Here’s the strange part. The guy had mediocre grades in law school, took the Bar three times, and didn’t do squat until he came to Georgia.”
Denny looked over Lauren’s shoulder. “Really?”
“Yeah. The two guys he beat out for D.A. were way better choices initially, but...” She reached over to a Mac and the screen came to life. “Both withdrew, citing family issues.”
“And no one thought that odd?”
“Well, at the time, the sitting D.A. was a loser. Had a losing streak the length of your arm.”
“So Carol won it by default?”
“Or something.”
“Your thoughts?”
Lauren sighed. “Bad news. He’s aggressive and the population of our fair city loves that. He is well-respected in the community. People see him as some Lone Ranger.”
Denny watched Lauren work her computer magic.
“Now, Quick’s attorney, Jones, is a whole other story.”
“How so?”
Lauren turned from the computers. “I can’t find anything about his past other than that he went to Northwestern. Prior to Quick’s case, he was batting five hundred, and let me tell you, fifty percent is no good. How did you all find this guy?”
Denny felt sick inside. “We didn’t. He came to Quick saying he needed some pro bono work.”
“Ya get what you pay for, eh?”
“Oh no, we paid him. Not much. But we did.” Denny leaned on the computer table. “Got his house, too?”
“Live and in color on the east side. Was married. Wife left him around the time he came here.”
“Do we know why?”
Lauren shook her head. “We do not. Den, what have you got up your sleeve? This D.A. Carol isn’t someone you want to mess with, and this lackey, Jones? He’s a piece of shit for an attorney.”
“Makes you wonder why, doesn’t it?”
“No. It makes you wonder why, and when you wonder, shit happens. So come clean with me. What are you looking for? What’s going on?”
Sighing loudly, Denny sat down. “I have a PI on it and we believe that one, if not both of our less-than-esteemed attorneys are demons.”
Lauren pulled her glasses off. “No way.”
“Way. I think they believed Quick had or was going to get the Hanta, so they impriso
ned him to keep him from becoming the demon hunter.”
“Not knowing it was in you all the time.”
“Exactly. They set him up, put him away, and are either waiting for the Hanta to show itself or––” Denny stopped.
“Or they’re getting ready to come after you?”
Denny shook her head. “Maybe. They won’t come after me as attorneys. They wouldn’t show their hand that way.”
Lauren put her glasses back on. “Oh, shit. They’ll come after you as…as demons?”
“Actually, I stand a better chance of killing them if they are in the demonic world as opposed to the judicial one.”
“Is there really a difference?”
This tickled Denny. “Not really.”
“So, what now?”
“Now I pay a visit to that ass-wipe,Tyler Jones, and see if I can make him crack.”
“You can’t kill him, Den.”
“Who said anything about killing him? I’m just going to have a little chat with him. Demon style.”
“You, or the Hanta?”
Denny laughed demonically in the deep voice of the Hanta. “Now, who do you think?”
Lauren shuddered. “That is just super fucking creepy.”
“Weird, huh? Every time I hear it, I forget that it’s coming from me.”
“Well, quit it. It freaks me out. Hey, have you heard Victor is dating someone special? A new guy has entered the scene.”
Denny quickly turned. “What?”
Lauren opened her mouth then closed it again when she saw Denny’s face.
“We have to be suspicious of every new person who comes into our lives. Will you email me this new guy’s info? I’m gonna have to do a drive-by.”
Lauren nodded. “You know, there’s something uber disturbing about you skulking around in the shadows at night, spying on us.”
“I’m so not spying on you. I’m patrolling.”
Lauren laughed. “Yeah. Right. Spying.”
The sound of their laughter filled the hallways.
“You’re actually early,” Ames said, opening the screen door. “You okay?”
“Maybe. What are the odds of D.A. Carol being a demon?” Denny asked as she entered the house.
“Is this supposition stemming from your off-the-grid investigator?” Ames closed the door and headed downstairs.
“Maybe. Probably not. Yes.”
Ames laughed. “You want to tell me the story or waste time on guessing games?”
When they got to the training room, Denny explained everything.
“Well, it’s not uncommon for a demon to use its powers to level up in the human world, but what bothers me is the notion that he so easily railroaded your brother.” Ames opened a secret compartment and withdrew a black alloy crossbow. “If I didn’t know better, Goldy, I’d say these demons have declared war against you.”
Denny eyed the crossbow. “You mean, against my family?”
He shook his head. “No. Against you.”
Denny remembered what Peyton had penned. “Ames, Peyton thinks they’re on the offensive against Hantas––that they are making an all-out push to come after us.”
“You mean a cleansing?”
“Is that what a cleansing is? Mom’s journal mentioned something about that. I thought could be the reason the incubi and succubi have come out to play, but it’s something more, isn’t it?”
Ames rubbed his chin. “That’s possible, actually. That’s entirely possible. A cleansing is when one side pushes back in an attempt to clean a certain area. Both sides have started cleanses in the past. Normally, though, I know when one has busted a move. Frankly, I’m surprised this is the first I’ve heard of this one.”
“So what do you suggest I do?”
Ames held the crossbow up. “What else? Train. Regardless of which demons are after you, you still need to be prepared.”
“You planning on shooting me with that thing?”
A sly grin crept across his face. “What do you think?”
When they’d finished a very energetic set of exercises, Denny had finally managed to deflect the suction cup bolts Ames had been rapidly firing at her, but not before dozens smacked her in the head, neck, and chest.
“Soda for the roada?” He asked, handing Denny a Coke.
Sliding onto the kitchen stool that had become like her second home, Denny cracked open the can. “So I’ve got incubi, succubi, high-level demons in powerful positions hunting me, and yet, you still have never offered to help me hunt them. Why is that?”
Ames ran his fingers around the rim of his soda. “Long story.”
“I’ve got time. Come on, Ames, you know everything about me but I don’t know jack about you. What gives?”
Ames’s eyes softened. “Twenty years, two months, and fourteen days ago, they took my son. They said as long as I did not engage in physical battle with them, he would live. I’ve kept that promise in the hopes they keep theirs.”
Denny’s mouth hung open. “Seriously? They took your kid and you trusted them with some jacked up deal?”
Ames nodded. “He was special, and they knew it. They took him that night and the following day my wife left me. She wanted me to go after him, and when I refused, she thought me a coward and packed up. I signed the divorce papers a year later and opened the training center.”
“To fight via proxy.”
Ames shook his head. “To fight, period. I guess a part of me always hopes one of you will go out there and return with my son.” Ames shrugged. “It’s a silly fantasy I have.”
“Aw, man, so you have no idea where––”
“None.”
“What did they want with him? I mean...you know...define special.”
Sipping his soda, Ames shook his head. “Some things ought to remain private. Let’s just say, in the right hands, he could do miracles; in the wrong hands, mayhem.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. All these years I’ve just hoped he is alive so he can come back to me some day.”
“Damn. That must royally suck. Haven’t you ever been tempted to go after him?”
“Every day. But I couldn’t live with myself if I did and something happened to him. Besides, he could be anywhere in the world...if he is still alive.”
“Oh Ames, I am so sorry.”
Ames swallowed loudly and looked away. “So am I.” He turned back to Denny. “I’ve trained four hunters in the last twenty years, hoping they might find Monroe. Your mother, she had the most promise.”
“Did she know?”
“About Monroe? Yes, but she never met him. She was an excellent hunter. By the book.”
“Then how did she get killed? Being forced off the road is a pretty mundane way to go out for a hunter with her skills. Did she get careless? Sloppy? What happened, Ames?”
“Your mother never got careless. She followed protocol, she was cautious. She looked before she leapt.”
“Then how did she––”
“She didn’t get careless.” Ames looked at her, his eyes betraying his struggle with speaking his truth. “Your father did.”
“My…how do you know? What did my dad have to do with it?”
“Did the math. Your father was driving. He wasn’t paying attention. Your father could, well, every now and then, he could forget what your mother was.” Ames sipped his soda. “Your mother used to call him the Absent-Minded Professor because he could spend so much time up in his head. This did not bode well on several occasions when he inadvertently put their lives in danger. Quite by accident, of course, but danger is danger. It doesn’t really matter how you get there.”
Denny cocked her head. “Several occasions? What are you saying? Are you...are you suggesting my dad was a detriment to my mom?”
“Goldy, I don’t want to go on, because the stuff I know is a little delicate, and shattering of any childhood illusions you might hold about your parents isn’t my job.”
“I’ll never get to talk to my pa
rents again. I’ll never get to know anything more about them than I know now except from my mom’s journal, and you. You should tell me about them—how they were. You owe me that.”
Ames rubbed his chin. “I owe you? Hardly. But I do understand your need to know. Detriment? I wouldn’t say it quite like that. Your father was a good man. He loved your mother very much. He just didn’t really understand the dangers involved. Your mother kept much of what she faced from him.” Ames narrowed his eyes. “Hardly any marriage is what it seems on the outside, Denny. I would be careful to fantasize about them having the relationship you saw. There’s a dance we do, those of us who exist on the edges of darkness. From the outside, most marriages look healthy. Can they be if one of you hunts demons? I mean, really? What kind of marriage can you have if your husband seldom hears about the hunt? The only two people who really know what a marriage is truly about are the two people in it. The rest of us just see what they want us to see.”
“Was yours healthy?”
He laughed. “Heavens no. Even I was surprised.”
“How so?”
Ames took a longer than usual time to answer the question. When he finally did, his voice was so soft Denny barely heard it.
“Well now, that’s the sticky wicket I was faced with. You see, the demon who took my son was summoned by my wife.”
After Denny tracked the two attorney’s homes and placed them on her route, she started her rounds, beginning at the cemetery.
She just kept hearing Ames’s words about her parents’ marriage. She even remembered a conversation she’d heard once between Sterling and Quick. Quick was telling Sterling how he thought her parents were having “issues” but Sterling refused to believe it. She thought her parents were the happiest couple she’d ever met.
Quite possibly Ames was right, given what Gwen had written in her journal.
The Demon Within (The Silver Legacy Book 2) Page 15