Darkness Descends (The Silver Legacy Book 1)

by Alex Westmore

  “It’s...”

  “Scary. I know.” Denny sat back down and laid her face in her hands. “I’m sorry for swearing and yelling, but you bailed on us, Sterling. You left me to finish raising Pure and now...now she could be in trouble. When Quick was being tried, you left him to rot. You bailed on us at every turn. Why? So you could save yourself?”

  “On the contrary, Golden. I know you resent my choice of the Church, but what you didn’t understand, what you couldn’t understand is that I didn’t make this choice to escape the legacy. I made it for a safety net for the rest of you.”

  Denny looked into Sterling’s eyes. It was the first time in her entire twenty-one years that she finally, irrevocably understood why her older sister had committed her life to the Church.

  To save them all.

  And the truth stunned her.

  Sterling smiled softly and rose. “Don’t get me wrong. I love my life here. I have friends. I have support. In the end, this path turned out to be the right one for me after all.”

  “Right one? Sterling, don’t you want to be loved? Don’t you want to have sex and experience all the joys of a physical relationship?”

  “Oh honey, I am loved. I don’t need the love of a man or woman. I have plenty of love here from my sisters, from my Lord, from everything around us. I’m happy. I love my job, my kids. I am fulfilled.”

  “Then it...the legacy...”

  She shook her head. “They won’t come here.”

  “But they will come for me and Pure.”

  Sterling nodded as she moved to the door. “With Quick in prison, you’re the next in line unless they decide he can do harm in prison. I have my doubts that would work for them. Those men have already crossed to the darkness.”

  Denny rose as well. “I’m not hunter material. I have no idea what it entails and I’m not at all certain I care to know. If it’s something Mom was working hard to excise from our lives, then maybe it’s a really bad idea. I’m so not a killer.”

  With her hand poised on the doorknob, Sterling nodded. “I know you’re not. You used to carry bugs out of the house in a napkin. I can’t imagine you hunting and killing something. It’s completely out of your character.” She turned and lightly touched Denny’s cheek. “What’s not out of your character is your intense loyalty and love of family. We both know you’ll choose to become a demon hunter, if for no other reason than to protect Pure. You might as well embrace that fact. I have.”

  “Then I...I have your blessing if this is a path I have to take to protect Pure?”

  “Is that what you came here for? My blessing?”

  Denny found herself nodding. “You know, I guess it is.”

  Sterling hugged Denny as she whispered, “Then you have it. Make no mistake, Golden, Mom might not have wanted us to carry the legacy on, but if our sister, if our family is in trouble, she’d be the first to cheer you on.”

  Of that, Denny was certain.

  ***

  Denny left the convent and drove by the coffee shop, but when she saw Brianna having coffee with another woman, she kept driving until she found herself at home.

  She walked all through the house calling for Rush.

  No answer.

  Rush was seldom AWOL this long and Denny was beginning to worry.

  Sitting on the stoop, Denny soaked in the sun of the early afternoon as it streamed through the hair-like Spanish moss. She closed her eyes and remembered the look on her mother’s face when she saw her. So much to say and yet, this damned legacy had taken all their time together.

  All of it.

  Denny looked up as the loud engine of a muscle car approached. A red and black Camaro screeched to a stop in front of the house. Out jumped Pure like a puppy bounding into a pile of other puppies.

  “Why aren’t you––”

  “Forgot my project. Just came to pick it up,” she said, racing past Denny.

  Denny took the small window of opportunity and walked over to the car.

  Mike Cockerton grinned at her.

  “Just so we’re clear, you fucking little pencil dick. I know what you’re about. I know who and what you are, and if you even think about hurting my little sister–”

  “Chill out, tuna lover. She likes me, I like her, and you don’t have nothin’. You might think you do, but trust me...you don’t know shit.” He leaned forward. “Shit.”

  “No, but I can certainly make you eat some. If you knew what was good for you, you’d just go play in someone else’s sandbox and walk away while you can.”

  “What the fuck is wrong with you, man?”

  “Mark my words, butt-munch. Walk away now before I relocate your kneecaps.” As Denny started to stand up, she saw a CD case on the console. “The Four Seasons? Seriously?”

  Pure ran down the steps calling out, “Got it!”

  Denny grabbed her arm and whispered, “Have you seen Rush?”

  “No, not in a coupla days. See you later.”

  Denny watched the Camaro race down the street. No teenager today knew who the Four Seasons were, and the only way that ass-wipe knew was if he was older than he appeared.

  Denny headed up to the lair.

  That CD was all the evidence she needed that Pure might be in trouble.

  If she was going to protect her family, she needed to get started yesterday.

  ***

  Denny tossed and turned all night. Between dreams of Rush, nightmares of her mother, and witches circling on brooms, she’d had a tough time staying asleep.

  “Rush?” Denny sat up and listened. “Rush, come on. This stopped being funny two days ago. Talk to me, please. I need you.”

  Denny waited for fifteen minutes. When it was clear Rush wasn’t coming, she leaned over and looked at the clock. Six a.m.

  Coffee.

  She threw on her clothes and, after jamming a ball cap on her head, drove to the coffee shop—and to the only person she knew who might be able to tell her how to find a missing ghost.

  “Wow, someone got up early,” Brianna said, handing a mug of coffee to another customer.

  Denny felt a slow blush creep up her cheeks.

  Brianna smiled. “And if I didn’t know better, I’d say you weren’t here for tea.”

  “No, but I’ll take a double shot.”

  Brianna raised an eyebrow. “One double, coming up.”

  After Denny paid for the cup of espresso, she leaned over the bar toward Brianna, who kept working the giant chrome machine. “What does it mean when a ghost disappears?”

  Brianna tilted her head. “Why? Have you lost one?”

  “Sort of.”

  “I see.” Brianna poured the steamed milk into a mug and delivered the order before turning to Denny and saying, “Could be she found peace.”

  Denny laughed. Rush didn’t want peace. She wanted to be alive. “I doubt that. This...um...particular ghost isn’t interested in an afterlife of rainbows and roses.”

  “Let me make sure I am clear about what you're asking. You originally told me you didn’t have a ghost. Now you do and she’s gone, and yet you want her back?” Brianna’s eyes sparkled as she spoke. “I swear to God, Golden Silver, you are quite an enigma. Most people would be thrilled to have a ghost gone.”

  “I’m not most people. Seriously. I don’t know what to do.”

  “It seems to me the supernatural world sure has its hooks in you. Someone is either playing games with you or your spirit has gone to wherever she was supposed to go. I can’t think of any other options.”

  Denny’s eyes locked on Brianna’s. She wanted to tell her...everything. She wanted to confide in her about who Rush was and why the supernatural seemed to be conspiring against her. But she couldn’t. Not here, and not like this.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Brianna took her apron off and walked around the counter. “Whatever has happened, just know you aren’t alone. I know it might feel that way, but you aren’t. Go see Ames Walker and see if he can shed s
ome light on this.”

  Brianna held onto Denny, but Denny had never felt so alone.

  “Want me to come with you?”

  Denny pulled away. “No thanks. I got this, but thank you.”

  Brianna studied her a moment before lightly touching Denny’s eyebrows. “I wish that were true, but just know I’m here if you feel you need backup.”

  “I appreciate that. I really do.”

  ***

  Denny walked up the cracked cobblestone path to a weathered and beaten Victorian. She almost turned around. Whoever Ames Walker was, his house didn’t look like it would belong to a successful someone. It looked like something out of an M. Night Shaymalan movie.

  Was it an intentional cliché that his grey house looked haunted? With torn screens and a cracked upper window, the house didn’t even look lived in. Weeds three feet high almost obscured the rusting wrought iron fence surrounding the front yard.

  “This is ridiculous,” Denny muttered. She stopped at the rundown steps covered with cracked and peeling paint. Several nails looked like they, too, had tried to escape. “What am I doing here?”

  Denny turn around and headed back down the weed-choked path.

  “Looking for answers, I daresay,” someone said from behind her.

  Denny turned back to the house and was shocked to see a handsome gentleman of about fifty standing at the top of the steps. He wore a light blue button-down dress shirt with grey slacks and black dress shoes.

  The dichotomy was a surprise.

  “Of course, if the sight of a dilapidated old house is enough to make you turn tail and run, perhaps it is for the best.” The man started toward the weathered front door with its battered screen.

  “Wait. Ames Walker?”

  He turned back to her. “Yes. Golden Silver? I believe our mutual friend, Bri Stuart, requested an appointment for you. If you know anything about me, you know I seldom take an appointment.”

  Mutual friend? Denny tried nodding and speaking but nothing happened.

  “Ah. I see. Did you think I take appointments from just anyone? I do not. I have been expecting you for some time, but if you cannot see your way past the physical delusion of––”

  “It’s not that.”

  “No? Then what is it? What would make you get so close, yet you couldn’t pull the trigger?”

  “I’m not sure you know what I need to know.”

  “Well, you won’t find that standing out here now, will you? Come, or don’t. It’s all the same to me.”

  He turned to continue into the house. Denny heard him mutter, “Your mother said you were stubborn.”

  Before the front door closed, Denny bounded up the steps. “Wait.”

  Ames Walker stood in a foyer that belonged to another house.

  Completely.

  The interior shocked Denny to the point that she forgot her southern manners and just stood there, mouth agape.

  The foyer sported white marble with grey veins running through it. A glass table in the center held fresh cut flowers sitting happily in a crystal vase, grey round rocks in the bottom. A gorgeous curved stairway flowed down the right side of the foyer; a deep cherry wood was the antithesis of the cold marble floor

  But the oddest thing of all was the smell of baked goods wafting from the kitchen.

  “Banana nut bread calls. Please, follow me to the kitchen.”

  The kitchen with its elegant and up-to-date appliances was a master chef’s dream. Eight stools surrounded the island as if they were waiting for the chef’s audience.

  The aroma of freshly baked banana nut bread reminded Denny she’d not had breakfast. Her stomach grumble seconded the motion.

  Rush usually reminded her to eat.

  Rush.

  “Please, have a seat.” Ames motioned to one of the stools before pouring coffee into matching mugs. “I only serve the finest chicory coffee from NOLA.” He handed Denny a Batman mug before checking on the bread baking in one of the ovens. “Chicory is an acquired taste not every pallet appreciates.”

  “Thank you,” Denny said, taking the mug in both hands and inhaling the delicious aroma.

  Ames closed the oven door and turned it off. “In case you are wondering, I find the exterior of the house keeps the Curious Georges away.”

  “And everyone else.”

  “I have no desire to entertain the nobodies of this city.”

  “The nobodies of the city?”

  “I am, by nature, reclusive. I’m sure Brianna conveyed that”

  “She didn’t tell me much. But for a recluse, you have a beautiful home.”

  “Yes, I do, but not for sharing or entertaining. What I do requires privacy and security the likes of nothing you’ve ever seen. The exterior of this house may look like a dive, but I assure you, there is a sophisticated security system in place.”

  “Wow. You’re right. I never would have guessed.” Denny sipped her coffee.

  “Oh, I’m quite confident there is a great deal about me that you would never guess.”

  A bell rang. Ames donned red oven mitts and removed the bread from the oven.

  “Such as?” Denny asked.

  “That I run a Tae Kwon Do studio in town.”

  “Really? Wow, so are you a black belt?”

  “I am slightly higher than that. While I no longer teach classes, I occasionally take on certain...promising individuals.”

  Ames slowly turned to Denny. “So, what can I do for you, Ms. Silver?”

  “It’s Denny, sir. Please.”

  “Okay, Denny. People seldom seek me out unless it involves my specialty, and Brianna Stuart is, indeed, special.”

  “Demonology, sir. I need a crash course.”

  He placed the bread on a rack to cool. “Well, yes, that’s one way to refer to it.” Ames took off the oven mitts and sipped his coffee. “Chicory is underrated by most coffee shops, don’t you think?”

  He walked over to an antique secretary desk and retrieved a worn manila folder.

  “I am the South’s premier demonologist, uhh, Denny. I’ve studied and tracked hundreds of demons across this state and beyond. I know more about them than any hundred people put together. That is why Brianna recommended me to you. She couldn’t possibly have known––” Ames pushed the folder over to Denny. “Why I am the only person who can help you.”

  Denny set her mug down and opened the folder. Her mother’s name jumped out at her from the top page of a thick stack of paper.

  “What the fuck––”

  “Your mother came to me the night she knew her hunt was out of control.”

  “You...you knew my mom?”

  “Knew her isn’t all. We were good friends. Very good friends.”

  The words swam before Denny’s eyes as relief lifted the burden from her shoulders. Brianna was right: she wasn’t alone in this after all.

  “You knew...my mom.”

  A smile briefly crossed his face, lighting up his light blue eyes. “I did. She was...is...a very brave, very funny lady.”

  Denny wiped her eyes. “Brave?”

  “Ho, yes, indeedy. There was no demon she wouldn’t go after, no evil she would not wrestle to the ground. She was as proficient a hunter as any man I have ever trained.”

  “Wait. You trained my mom?”

  “Oh yes. I am the reason your family moved here. Well, I am one of the reasons. The others you’ll have to discover for yourself, but yes, I trained her. One of the best hunters I have ever worked with.”

  “How many did she...hunt?”

  “Three, four dozen, maybe?” He looked up at the ceiling as he calculated. “But you see, your mother’s strength wasn’t in the killing. It was in her reputation. Savannah has been demon free for quite some time because she was so good at it. That has changed a great deal since the accident. Everything has changed now. They have returned.”

  “She must have been good.”

  Ames sliced the bread and, after putting it on a plate, handed
it to her. “Not just good. Your mother was the best. Smart, courageous. She was incredibly adept at setting traps.”

  “Traps?”

  He grinned. “You have so much to learn.”

  Denny inhaled the steam rising off the banana nut bread. “Like everything. I need to know everything, but...I don’t even know––”

  “It’s not really a choice, as you’ll soon see, if you haven’t already.”

  “What do you mean? I don’t––”

  “Finish your bread and I’ll show you. There won’t be much time if the legacy has been passed on to you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He nodded patiently. “Once you leave here, you’ll know why you’re experiencing some of the things you are.”

  Denny’s eyes lit up. “Thank god. For a minute there––”

  “You thought you were going insane? Hardly. But it sure can feel that way.”

  Denny studied his face. “What if I don’t want to be a hunter?”

  “You might not have a choice anymore.” Ames walked around the island and looked into Denny’s eyes. He held her chin a moment as he gazed into them...or through them. “Just as I suspected.”

  “What?”

  Ames shook his head as he walked away. “Come.” He started toward a door that lead to the basement. “There’s not much time.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so.” Denny stood up. “My mother didn’t raise a dummy.”

  Ames turned to her. “Smart girl. But we need to go to my basement so I can teach you some demonology one-oh-one. You need far more information than you realize. That’s what you came here for, right?”

  Ames walked back to the kitchen, opened a drawer, and pulled a 9 mm handgun out and set it on the counter. “You can bring that down with you when you come, after you finish looking at the file.” Ames started down the stairs. “But finish the file first. I’ll be waiting.”

  Denny turned her attention to the folder.

  The first page was a photo of her mother, with her long blond hair and piercing green eyes. Denny’s eyes were just like hers, only with flecks of yellow. Her mother, while not beautiful, was a handsome woman with Lauren Bacall features. The photo had been taken years ago.

  The next thirty pages were individual reports about the demons she’d hunted and the results of each hunt. The reports included manner of death, place, circumstances, length of hunt, etcetera. Denny was amazed by the details. The odd thing was, under the section listed as Killed With, it appeared Fouet and Épée were always with her and did the lion’s share of the killing.