Darkness Descends (The Silver Legacy Book 1)

by Alex Westmore

  Denny set her mug on the counter. She looked at the tray, which contained different kinds of leather, metals, and cloth. There was thread, leather cording, beading, and straps of varying lengths.

  “The demons that attacked you obviously did not know you were possessed by a Hanta. Lower level demons know better than to mess with one.”

  “So you’re saying my mother had this Hanta Raya demon living inside her my entire life and I didn’t know.”

  “Yes.” Ames straightened the items on the tray. “She took possession of it long before she met your father and at a very young age. It’s all in her journal.”

  “And at some point, it leapt to me.” Denny handed the file back to Ames. The pieces of the demon puzzle began falling into place. “What did you find out about me when you went snooping around?”

  Ames put the file back in the cabinet before standing up and looking Denny in the eye. “That you are exactly like your mother in certain, important arenas in life. I discovered a woman of integrity who is well-liked and more responsible than most people her age. You are loyal, competitive, fiery, and tough. You have the right temperament for this job.”

  “But what about my life? I have plans.”

  “Your mother had a life. She had a family, four kids, interests and hobbies outside of hunting. She hunted only to feed the Hanta. Some legacies make it their life’s work. It’s up to how you want to handle it.”

  He motioned to the tray in front of her and said, “Choose materials for your weapons.”

  “What for?”

  “Well, you can’t carry them around in a backpack. That’s inefficient.”

  “Oh, you mean we’re making sheaths?”

  “No. I am making them. You’re just choosing the material.”

  Denny picked out black leather.

  Ames stood back and looked at her. “Would you wear a leather vest?”

  “If it was cool looking, yeah.”

  Ames held his hand out and Denny handed him her weapons. He traced around them before handing them back to her. “No more séances, understand?”

  Denny nodded as she watched him measure her shoulders. “Copy that.”

  “And no more visiting another plane to talk to your mother. That is seriously risky business now.”

  “Why?”

  “The Hanta could jump back into her, thinking that was where it belonged, and we have no idea what that kind of trauma could do to her. It might very well kill her.”

  “Fine. No more visits.”

  “Good. Any other questions?”

  “Too many to fire all at once, so I’ll ask them as they come up.”

  “Fair enough. I have one. What, exactly, happened to your eyebrow?”

  Denny told him about the demons in the cemetery.

  “They might have been testing you. They will come at you to kill you before you become too skilled.”

  “What are you saying? A bunch of demons are out to get me?”

  “Yes. They know the Hanta left an experienced hunter and is now vulnerable in you. They see this as the perfect time to rid the world of a Hanta. Like ants on candy, they are drawn here. I’m afraid the first attack was just the beginning.”

  Ames shook his head. “The Hanta will protect you as much as it can, but if you do nothing, if you refuse to feed it, it will let you die so it can move on to a stronger host. It will, if given the chance, jump into Pure if it feels you are no longer useful to it. Remember always, it is a demon just like the ones you kill. It is not benevolent simply because it gives you power. It is symbiosis. I’m sorry, Denny. I wish I had better news for you, but this is the lay of the demonic land in your life now. There’s just no getting around it unless you want Pure to take the reins.”

  “Oh hell no. Uh-uh. Not Pure. I am a far better choice than she. No, if anyone has to carry on the legacy, it’s going to be me.”

  Ames glanced at her split eyebrow. “You’re lucky you didn’t cut half your face off. Fouet is an amazing and terrifying weapon, and very dangerous to the uninitiated. I told you not to use it until I told you that you’re ready.”

  “Then initiate me, Mr. Walker. Make me ready. I don’t have time for baby steps anymore. It’s time to take that leap of faith.”

  Ames’s cool blue eyes studied her a moment. “A Hanta is nothing to play with. They become part of you. They watch over you, but they are unpredictable at times. They rise up when threatened. They are moody and temperamental. Most of all, they are ruthless killers of other demons and will stop at nothing to feed on the souls of others. If you think you are ready to handle that, all righty then.”

  “It seems I have no other choice, Mr. Walker, but to learn how to handle this demon inside of me. It would appear it’s time for you to teach me how to kick some ass.”

  ***

  The only ass kicked was Denny’s as Ames Walker put her through her paces. He went over Tae Kwon Do moves, showed her how to get out of half a dozen different choke holds and demonstrated how to keep the Fouet from “biting back.”

  More than once, the Hanta joined the party when Denny became angry or frustrated. Ames taught her how to calm herself and the demon within. That was the hardest part of the training for Denny–– to actually feel the demon–– to know it existed inside her, and to have to wrestle it for control. She didn’t like that. It was creepy and invasive.

  Ames explained that the Hanta Raya did not want to control her physical being––that was not part of the deal. It needed her to stay alive and, safe, otherwise, it would die along with her. He revealed much of the demon world to her, but she knew it wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg. She needed to study. She needed to read her mother’s journal, know the Black Book inside and out, and be more versed in demonology than she was in history. She needed to become an expert, because if she didn’t, she would die and so would those around her.

  The sun was up when they finished training. Ames excused himself to go to the Tae Kwon Do studio. They had worked all through the night and Denny was exhausted, but Ames Walker was the Energizer Bunny. He grabbed a mug of coffee and walked her to her car.

  “Education is the key to your survival, Goldy, not just nifty moves. Get in the lair and bone up on this stuff because, mark my words, they are coming. They want you dead as soon as possible.”

  “I am a nobody. The idea of a brigade of demons coming after me sounds ludicrous, sir. Sorry, but it just does.”

  Ames smiled. “Does it now? In time you’ll learn that nothing should be considered ludicrous until proven. Get some sleep. Remember to eat. You have a lot of work to do.”

  As Denny drove by the coffee shop, she saw Brianna getting out of her car, so she rolled the window down and smiled. “Hey,” Denny said. “I wanted to thank you for last night.”

  Brianna walked over to the car. “Now that’s a line every girl wants to hear in the morning. Oh my.” The smile on her face slid off. She reached out and lightly touched Denny’s eyebrow.

  “What? You saw this last night.”

  Brianna took Denny’s chin and turned her face side-to-side. “Yes, but it sure as shit didn’t look like this. Your wound. It’s—that’s impossible.”

  Denny pulled her visor down and examined her eyebrow in the mirror. It was almost completely healed.

  “Oh. That. I...uh...I heal quickly.”

  “Wow. I guess you do. But the real question is have you recovered from the séance? That was off the hook. Everyone is still talking about it.”

  “I have for the moment, yes. How’s Cassandra? She seemed a bit rattled when she left.”

  “It wasn’t her first rodeo, Denny. It takes a lot more than a pissy demon to rattle her chains. No pun intended.”

  Denny felt exhaustion roll over her. “It was definitely worth it. I learned a lot. Please thank Cassandra and the rest of the coven for me.”

  Brianna pulled away from the window. “Will do. If you get hungry, I’m thinking of grabbing sushi at Kane’s if you’re intereste
d. We can try that eggplant spread. Say, six or six-thirty?”

  When Denny hesitated, Brianna knelt down beside the car. “I think I need to make something really clear. I understand, as bizarre as it is, that Rushalyn is your girlfriend. So every time I ask you to do something, it’s always as friends, okay? You don’t have to get your panties in a wad thinking I am making a move on you. I’m not.”

  A hot blush colored Denny’s face. “My panties aren’t in a wad...I just...” she hesitated. She was too tired to think or speak clearly, her filters useless. “It would be easier if I didn’t find you so attractive.”

  The final word hung in the air between them like a balloon that couldn’t decide whether to pop, deflate, or rise into the air.

  “Oh.” Brianna looked away as a slow blush crept up her neck. “Well...um...this is awkward.”

  Denny closed her eyes and laid her forehead on the steering wheel. “I’m sorry to make this weird between us. If I wasn’t so damn exhausted, I wouldn’t have let that slip out. I haven’t had any sleep. Sorry. I don’t self-edit very well.”

  Brianna slowly rose and laid her hand on the back of Denny’s neck. “I’m kinda glad you did. I was beginning to think I needed to go on a diet or something.”

  Denny lifted her head. Brianna’s warm, living hand felt so good on her skin. “Oh hell no. You are smokin’ hot. What I can’t understand is why you’re single.”

  Brianna chuckled and removed her hand. “I’m not like other women, Golden. I don’t want to be with just any woman. I want to be with the right one. I’m a Wiccan and that brings many different layers into a relationship. We are not easy to be with.”

  Denny smiled softly, thinking the Hanta demon inside her trumped the many different layers of a witch. “Well, I think you’re gorgeous, and from now on I’ll stop panicking every time you want to do something nice with me.”

  Brianna’s face softened and her eyes showed gratitude and appreciation. “I’d like that. A lot. I’m late for work. Go get some rest, Denny. If you’re hungry or awake at six, give me a call.”

  “Will do. Thank you.”

  As Denny watched Brianna walk away, she pictured herself shouting, “I have a demon inside of me!” But thought better of it. Instead, she headed home to an empty house, an empty bed, and a head full of unanswered questions.

  ***

  When Denny was younger, Rush would sit on the edge of her bed and sing to her. That would put her right to sleep. It was some lullaby her mother had sung to her.

  As she got older, Rush would tell her stories––stories about Savannah in the seventies, what life had been like for her as a little girl. Sometimes, she’d tell stories she made up. Those were Denny’s favorite.

  God, how she missed her.

  She would have helped Denny sort through all of this demonology shit. Denny pictured her perched up on the roll-top hutch while she flipped through the Black Book. Rush could tell her what to read, what not to read, and what a boob she’d been for not––

  She sat up.

  Wait.

  How much did Rush know about all of this? Had Rush known the demon was in her? Is that why she was being held hostage? Or did they simply snatch her in order to bring the Hanta out in Denny? Had Rush’s knowledge put her in harm’s way?

  Denny lay back down and closed her eyes. She went over all the lessons Ames Walker had taught her so far. He was an astute mentor who knew when to push and when to let go.

  “I can’t have you cutting an ear off,” he had said earlier in the week, showing Denny how to snap her wrist. “That’s why she bit back at you. You need to treat your weapons as if they were alive, because they often act as if they are.”

  Denny had gotten pretty good at it after about an hour and a case of carpal tunnel pain. She had only nicked herself five times, but Ames said that was not bad, considering she knew nothing about the weapon.

  All five nicks were fully healed by the end of the night, compliments of the Hanta. That was why the special weapons were needed. A demon needed to implode so the Hanta could consume the spirit.

  Denny had been there and done that, and it wasn’t pretty.

  After they had spent about four hours with the weapons, Ames showed her some rudimentary defense moves he said she would not need if the Hanta stepped in. Ames explained that the Hanta never really possessed the body, only cohabited with the owner. Its job was to protect the hunter so she could do her job and kill demons, thereby feeding the Hanta. To that end, the Hanta was like a babysitter who understood that protecting the baby was its one and only real function.

  “A demon doesn’t need to know Tae Kwon Do in order to kick your ass into tomorrow. They are stronger, more resistant to pain, and they are target-oriented. They’ll kill a hunter if engaged, and few of them will allow someone who knows they are demons to walk away. In the Hanta’s eyes, everyone is an enemy until proven otherwise.”

  When Denny was physically spent, Ames had fed her like he usually did while lecturing her on Demonology 101. She learned the demons were more prevalent than ghosts and that they feared, more than anyone else, the demon hunter––more specifically, the legacy hunter.

  “Legacy hunters have more power because they have the Hanta,” Ames had said. “You will garner respect in the hunting world the likes of which you’ve never seen once you survive your first encounters. Legacy hunters are the rock stars of that world. So if you ever pair up with another hunter, do not expect them to hold up their end of the battle like you would. You will be expected to lead and be expected to win.”

  Denny knew that losing was not an option. It could, quite possibly, mean her death or the death of others––Others who were vital to her success as a hunter.

  Ames.

  Now there was an odd duck. He was a gifted instructor who seldom smiled or laughed —though he always did whenever speaking about Gwen. He was intense, serious, and ferociously private. He did not answer one question she asked about his own hunting abilities, so Denny didn’t even try to ask about his personal life.

  But there was one lingering question she could not dismiss. She couldn’t help but wonder...when had the exchange of the Hanta occurred?

  And why her?

  As her eyelids got heavy and it felt like she was going to finally doze off, she thought about those days after the car accident...days when it didn’t look like her mom was going to make––

  Denny’s eyes suddenly popped open and she was wide awake again, the answer hovering before her mind’s eye.

  She knew when it happened—knew exactly when the exchange had taken place and could see it in her mind’s eye as if watching a movie.

  She’d been standing next to Gwen’s bed right after the accident, holding her mother’s hand. The others had gone to eat, but Denny refused to leave her. It didn’t feel right, somehow. She thought if she left Gwen alone, she would just let go.

  Which is exactly what happened when she coded five minutes later.

  Just before her heart had stopped, her grip became so strong Denny thought maybe she was coming out of the coma.

  She’d squeezed so hard one moment, then coded the next, never letting go of Denny’s hand. Denny thought it was just a reaction from the seizure.

  When one of the nurses rushed Denny out of the room, she’d felt dizzy and disoriented, and figured it had been because of the stress when Gwen coded, nearly dying.

  Nearly.

  Denny blinked, and the movie reel in her head came to an end.

  When Gwen coded, the Hanta Raya must have thought Gwen was a goner and leapt from Gwen to Denny. Was it possible it had been waiting for Denny? Had it just been lying within her waiting for the moment Denny finally understood who and what she was?

  That time had come. The switch has been flicked. The Hanta was now awake and ravenous...and Denny was able to remember other moments when it had made an informal appearance she paid no heed to.

  There was the time Victor was being harassed by a bunch of h
omophobes who were throwing rocks at him. One hit Denny in the eye, and she started whipping on those rat turds like there was no tomorrow. She kicked the shit out of three of the guys before the others took off. Denny had been like a dervish, all arms and legs, hitting whatever she could.

  Victor, quite aptly enough, had said she looked possessed.

  Denny remembered a couple of other times, and each time she had had some lame explanation. She didn’t feel the Hanta then like she did now, but she just figured teen angst feels a lot like the beginnings of the Hanta anger.

  Denny jumped out of bed and back in the lair, scouring the bookshelves for any of the titles Ames had scrawled on the sheet of paper in her hand.

  The first two books did not yield the information she was looking for, but the third did.

  ~~~

  Among the positive attributes with which the Hanta Raya endows the host is an unnaturally swift healing capability and a heightened sense of awareness. Some Demon Hunters have been known to walk in the spirit world as if whole––feeling emotions and physical sensations as if they were alive. This is due to the Hanta’s connection with both the spirit and corporeal worlds.

  ~~~

  Denny read that passage over and over. So that was how she could make love to Rush and feel it as if it were really happening. It wasn’t Rush’s capabilties at all.

  It was Denny’s.

  So Denny bookmarked the page and set the book on the desk, too tired to read any more without frying her brains.

  One thing she knew for sure, she was done dropping back and punting. She was going on the offensive.

  ***

  The demon leaned against the car and smiled when Pure bounced over to him. True to her name, she was, indeed, Pure. He found corrupting her innocence to be a harder task than he’d first thought. How hard was it to bed a horny teen? To get her to try drugs? To tempt her into shoplifting?

  Hell, so far, he hadn’t even felt her up or gotten her drunk, and it wasn’t for lack of trying. She said some bullshit about setting higher standards for herself and that she refused to give her self-respect away. Blah, blah, fucking blah.