Darkness Descends (The Silver Legacy Book 1)

by Alex Westmore

  “Whatever you say.” Brianna grinned. “You needn’t confess what we both know to be true. Besides, your secret is safe with me.”

  Denny grinned. “I’m an open book.”

  “Who doesn’t live with a ghost.”

  “Right.”

  Brianna laid her hand across Denny’s. “I am glad you came by. I wanted to thank you for what you did for us. I really appreciate it.”

  Denny shrugged. “Those guys were assholes. They deserved it.”

  “Yeah, but no one else would have stopped them. I can’t believe your friend popped him right in the mouth. That was a dangerous thing to do. Those no-neckers protect each other.”

  Denny felt the back of her hand get warm. “Victor’s really a pussy cat at heart, unless you mess with the people he cares about, and then he becomes someone you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley...or a light alley for that matter.”

  “It’s clear he cares for you a great deal. It’s good to have friends like that.”

  “Victor’s one of my best friends. There isn’t much he wouldn’t do for me, and vice-versa.”

  Brianna removed her hand and wrapped it around a mug that read Covens not Ovens. “Well, please let him know how much we appreciate it.” She sipped her coffee. “Not many guys would have gone up against a pack of wolves lead by that asshole Pat Patterson.”

  Denny leaned forward and whispered, “You really a witch?”

  She nodded. “Most prefer Wiccan. Witch conjures up the negative Hollywood image of pointy hats and broomsticks, and we are not that.”

  “A Wiccan, then.”

  “Then yeah, I am. Most of us in the drum circle are.”

  “What were you ladies doing out there with your drums anyway?”

  “We’ve started a club and we’re trying to get members.”

  Denny smiled as she sipped her tea. “Recruiting wit––uh––Wiccans on our campus can’t be easy.”

  “Oh, it’s easier than you might think. There are more of us around than meets the eye.” Brianna stared into Denny’s eyes. “Oh. I get it. You believe in ghosts but not Wiccans?” She chuckled. “Interesting.”

  “I never said I believe in ghosts.”

  “You don’t need to. It’s written all over your face. Hell, your very aura exudes spiritual energy unlike any I’ve seen. You not only believe in them, you come in contact with them. Probably on a daily basis.”

  “Spiritual energy, huh?”

  “Yeah. It’s like...residue from coming in contact with a ghost or supernatural being. They slough it off like we do dead skin cells and it sticks on those capable of reading it.”

  Denny casually leaned back. “Residue. You’re telling me that ghosts have residue?”

  Brianna frowned. “Please don’t tell me you live in a house with a ghost and haven’t done any research about what makes them tick?” She leaned forward, her eyes blazing. “Oh, but you have, haven’t you? This––” she waved her hand dismissively in the air, “is all a ruse––this pretense of not knowing or understanding.” She leaned back. “Okay, if that’s how you want to play it, I’m game. I get it.”

  “There’s nothing to get, Brianna. I’m not playing at anything. I’ve just never been told I’m walking around wearing ghost dandruff.”

  Brianna laughed. “That’s a good one. I don’t know how much you know about psychometry, but there’s residue on just about everything.”

  Denny shrugged but said nothing.”

  “Fine. Psychometry is the modern day term for scrying.” She waited for a sign of recognition. “Scrying is divination of future events or the reading of an object to understand more about it.”

  Denny was beginning to feel a little cornered––a little vulnerable––by this intense woman who seemed to look into the core of her being. It was disconcerting. “I’m just more interested in living in the real world right now, you know? It’s hard enough trying to get good grades and––”

  “Then go out with me.”

  Denny blinked. “What?”

  “Go out with me.”

  “On a...date?”

  Brianna laughed again. “If you want to call it a date, then sure. Go out on a date with me. You want to play in the real world, then come play with me for an evening.”

  Denny kept blinking. How on earth did the woman get through her well-constructed walls? She hadn’t been asked out since she was sixteen.

  Date?

  That was so very much a Rush word.

  “Under normal circumstances, I might, but I told you, I am sorta seeing someone, and I just discovered my brother might be innocent. That’s taking up my time and attention right now.”

  “So you can’t eat?”

  “Eat?” Denny’s angst had reduced her to a mocking bird.

  Brianna shook her head. “I find you a fascinating enigma, Silver. If you ever stop your super-sleuthing long enough to grab a bite to eat, call me.” With that, Brianna set a business card on the table and scooted back behind the counter.

  “Another card?”

  “That one is special.”

  Denny picked it up and realized it was Brianna’s coven card. Apparently, she was the vice president, or head, or grand poohbah of a circle of witches.

  Wiccans.

  Denny pocketed the card and made her escape while she could. Her world was becoming stranger by the minute.

  ***

  This enabler demon’s job was to enable the darkest part of a person to take control of the rest of their being while also recruiting others who preferred to walk in the darkness that exists in man’s corrupt world.

  There were so many humans who liked dark paths, and gang members were a wonderful breed. Already on the dark path, they were so near to being blinded, it was amazing they could see at all. Their way, their darkness, even the brightest of light could not penetrate it.

  They loved their shadows.

  Pushing drugs, running weapons, pimping women––these monsters needed no demons to wreak their chaos. They did not need The Brotherhood. They were their own malevolent force, sucking the life out of every neighborhood they touched, like some light-seeking vampire feeding on the hopes and dreams of others.

  As big and bad as they were, they were easy to manipulate. It was scary how malleable they were. A few well-placed drive-by bullets could start a war that might cost dozens of lives.

  The ED grinned. The latest stats not reported by humans were more like twenty thousand gang-related deaths in the United States, home to over one-and-a-half million gang members.

  One-and-a-half million little soldiers.

  How this so-called superpower of a government didn’t merely blow them to smithereens had been a topic of conversation at many a meeting. How did the country with the greatest army allow these mini-militias to terrorize neighborhoods? Why weren’t they stopped?

  Because humans were stupid. They cared about all the wrong things.

  So the darkness grew, fed by a population of unwanted undesirables with no one––no one—to stop them. It was just a matter of releasing them into the population––much like releasing wild animals into a village. The damage, while not predictable, would still be severe.

  That was what this demon was preparing to do. He would release them tonight to spread fear among the citizens by taking out one of their strongest...one who was revered by the population.

  It was sure to be a fun night.

  ***

  Denny was more than a little surprised to come home to find Sister Sterling cleaning up the kitchen.

  “What are you doing?” Denny shrugged off her sweatshirt.

  “Never could get Pure to wash her own dishes,” Sterling said, drying her hands on a faded dish towel. “I’d hate to see her house when she is a mother.”

  Leaning against the doorframe, Denny folded her arms. “Isn’t there some rule about housecleaning with your habit on?”

  “Very funny.” Folding up the dish towel, Sterling sat down at the t
able. “Do you have a minute?”

  Denny sat across from her and nodded. “What’s up?”

  Sterling stared down at her hands. “I came by because I’m worried that you’re going to let Quick pull you into his darkness.”

  “And here I thought you came to visit me.”

  Sterling sighed loudly, her eyes never leaving her hands. “Please don’t be so flippant, Golden. It’s a bad, bad idea you getting involved in his mess.”

  “What mess? Trying to help Quick, or trying to talk to Mom?”

  “Both.” Sterling finally looked up. Don’t you see? He’s always had that influence over you, and this whole notion about talking to Mom isn’t just absurd, it’s...unnatural.”

  Denny tilted her head. “Unnatural?”

  “If the Lord had wanted Mom to be able to communicate, he wouldn’t have allowed her to remain catatonic.”

  Denny’s eyes narrowed. “Allowed? Jesus, Sterling, if you really pray to a deity who actually allows tragedies of this sort, maybe you should have shopped around more.”

  Sterling pulled the car keys from her pocket as she rose. “You always go on the defensive when you don’t like what someone is saying. Mark my words, Golden. Stay out of it. You have a life to lead and you don’t need Quick’s cockamamie stories distracting you from your path.” Sterling turned one last time before she got to the door. “Whatever he really wants, Golden, is no good. Please. Let it go.”

  “I’m not letting it or our brother go, Sterling, and quite frankly, I’m shocked that you’d think I could.”

  “Then ignore it for the sake of our little sister. She deserves a peaceful and calm childhood, not more chaos at the hands of our loose canon.”

  Denny shook her head. “Pure is almost eighteen. She’s not a child anymore. She knows the score.”

  “Do what you want. You always have. Just mark my words...you won’t like what you find.” And with that, she left.

  Denny was still sitting at the table going over Sterling’s words when Rush appeared.

  “Don’t you start, too,” Denny growled.

  Rush sat cross-legged on the table in front of her. “I’d just waste my breath. I can tell when you’ve made up your mind. Pity Sister of All Saints can’t.”

  “I know it must sound crazy, but I just need to see this through. That’s all.”

  “You don’t think Quick knew the one button he could push to get you to jump? He always has, you know?”

  “That’s just it. He didn’t ask anything from me.” Denny stared at Rush. “And if I’m not mistaken, this is the first time you and Sterling have agreed about anything. That alone makes me nervous.”

  Rush faded in and out. “He already has you spinning donuts trying to figure out a way to speak to a comatose woman. Sister Hard-Ass isn’t wrong this time, love. She is just looking out for you because you tend to have blinders on where Quick is concerned.”

  Denny rose and stared at Rush. “I don’t have blinders on, but I wish I did right now. What in the hell are you wearing?”

  Rush stood up and twirled. “It’s the work outfit Shirley wears.”

  Denny groaned. “I’m afraid to ask which Shirley.”

  “Oh please. I would never wear anything Shirley Partridge wore. Maybe something Susan Dey wore, but not Shirley. That Susan Dey was hot in her day.” Rush laughed. “Get it?”

  Denny waited.

  “You’re so not fun when you get like this. Laverne and Shirley. You know––schlemiel, schlemozzle––”

  Denny held her hands up. “I’m going to disconnect the cable if you keep this up.”

  Suddenly, Rush wore tight-fitting skinny jeans and a Georgia Bulldog sweatshirt. “Gee, you do get grumpy when you’re wrong.”

  Denny stared at her. “I’m so not wrong. I can’t even believe you’d side with her.”

  “Me, neither, but I do. She’s a pain in the ass most of the time, but in this instance, you oughtta listen to her. What you are thinking of trying is dangerous for all involved. Trust me on this, baby. There are...things you should just leave be.”

  “I can’t believe this.” Denny grabbed her sweatshirt as she started for the door.

  “Where you going? You just got home.”

  “I don’t want to hear anymore shit, Rush. I need some fresh air.”

  “Don’t get all huffy...”

  Denny didn’t hear the rest. Sterling’s words banged at the door of Denny’s mind like an unwanted salesman. Something she’d said...something that wasn’t right, and it niggled at the back of her mind poking at her.

  Denny walked for several blocks when a red Camaro roared by her before slamming on the brakes.

  “Shit,” Denny muttered, picking up her pace and looking for some place else to walk.

  The car whipped around and stopped in front of her, tires skidding on the road.

  She knew exactly who was driving and what he wanted.

  “If it ain’t the witch-lovin’ dyke,” said Pat Patterson, the football player who’d been harassing the Wiccans. His lips were swollen and his cheek bruised from Victor’s massive fist. “Where’s your homo body guard?”

  “Fuck off, douchebag.” As Denny walked around the car, she heard the door open and turned to face him. “Nice face.”

  “Your fag buddy got off a cheap shot.”

  Denny looked over his shoulder, hoping someone would come along, but the street was deserted. “Who gives a shit? You’re a fucking bully harassing a group of people simply because you’re a jackass.”

  “You know, those are big words for a dry cunt.”

  Denny shook her head. “It’s guys like you that make women choose other women. Or death. Fuck off and leave me alone.” Denny turned her back on him and realized she was walking toward a part of the neighborhood where the streetlights had been shot out and never replaced. But it was too late to turn back now.

  “Making an enemy out of me is a bad idea, Silver.”

  Denny stopped and turned back around. “Look. You and I both know if you lay a hand on me, your football career––as lackluster as it is––will be over. I will destroy you and any chance you have to play again. So do us both a favor and go fuck your mother.”

  “You got a mouth like a sailor.”

  “And you’ve got no neck and a pencil dick. So what? I won’t tell you again, butt-munch. Leave me the fuck alone.” Denny turned and started to walk into the darkness, hoping like hell he wouldn’t follow, and slightly surprised by her own brash words.

  “Why aren’t you afraid of me?”

  Denny slowed, then stopped. “Are you joking? Go away little boy and threaten someone else.”

  Pat lumbered up to her. He really did remind her of a bear. “I said why aren’t you afraid of me? You should be scared as shit.”

  Denny looked around him. Was she being punked? “You’re kidding me, right? You want me to be afraid of you?”

  “No. I mean...not really. Everyone with half a brain is afraid of me.”

  “Well, there you have it. I have a whole brain and it tells me you’re smart enough to know that harassing me is only going to fuck up your life. I’ll bury you, your team, and your future if you mess with me, and that’s no idle threat.” Denny waited for him to respond. When he didn’t, she frowned. “What is it you want, Patterson? Why are we standing out here?”

  Jamming his hands in his pockets, he sighed. “’Cause I got nowhere to go, I guess. Do you know why I was being such a jerk with those witches?”

  Denny could not believe she was having this conversation. “Uhh...because you’re a jackass?”

  “‘Cause I...I like one a them and I didn’t know how to get her attention.”

  Denny looked around again. Surely someone was videotaping this weird moment. “Gee, talking is usually a good start. You know, maybe being a nice guy instead of an asshole?”

  Denny turned and started walking again, motioning for the big lug to join her. He was, after all, harmless, and she could tell h
e wasn’t going to go away anyway.

  He hustled up next to her. “I tried that. She won’t have nuthin’ to do with me. She thinks I’m a jerk.”

  “Well, there you have it. You showed her just how right she was. Move on.”

  “That’s just it. You ever been forced to be a way in public that wasn’t who you were?”

  Denny half-turned her head. He wasn’t kidding. “Patterson, I’m a lesbian in the deep south with a best friend who’s a gay black man. I live in a haunted house and my brother just went to prison for murder. What do you think?

  “Then how come you’re so...together?”

  Denny stopped. They were in near total darkness now. “Together? You think I have my shit together?”

  “Yeah. All that shit going down with your folks, your brother, and still, you’re like the most normal person I ever met.”

  Denny chuckled. She doubted making love to a ghost would rank anywhere near normal. “I just put one foot in front of the other every day just like everyone else.” She kept walking. “There’s really nothing special about me, except maybe my name and even that wasn’t my choice.

  Pat Patterson walked with her. “Some days, I feel like I don’t even know who I am. Like I’m supposed to be this big jerk who bullies people.”

  “Ah yeah, I’ve been there, more times than you can––” Suddenly, Denny looked over her left shoulder and saw the very faint outline of Rush.

  Rush?

  What was she doing here?

  Denny stopped walking. The hackles on her neck rose. Rush was trying to tell her something.

  A screech of tires, a flash of bright lights, and Rush faded from view as a car came barreling toward them.

  Denny couldn’t move. The headlights bore down on her and there was yelling and what sounded like gunfire. The car slowed to a stop.

  Pop! Pop! Pop!

  Everything slowed down as she looked over her shoulder and saw Pat slowly spin around. He fell face-down on the sidewalk, his head bouncing like a ball.

  “Patterson!” Denny ran back to him. He lay sprawled on the pavement, blood blossoming on his letterman’s jacket.

  “Patterson? Patterson, get up!”

  Denny glanced up and saw the headlights bearing down on them. Without thought, without wondering at the improbability of it, Denny rolled Pat Patterson on his side, grabbed an arm and leg, and with one deep breath, she flung him twenty feet away. He landed with a thud on the side of the road. Then she faced the car, fists at her sides, chest heaving, ready for whatever was coming next.