Demon Within (The Silver Legacy Book 2)

by Alex Westmore

  “Tell me about yourself––your family––your background.”

  “Well, I come from a wealthier-than-most family in Boston. I’m the youngest of seven kids. My parents are still together. I’m eighteen and I left home as soon as I knew what was happening to me.”

  “And just how did you know a demon was tracking you?”

  Iris thought about this. “Red, glowing eyes. At first, I thought it was just weird lighting, but the second time I saw them, I did some research and knew I was in trouble.”

  “So you left Boston because?”

  “Wow, you really weren’t listening. I didn’t want it near my family. I didn’t know what it wanted, so I came to the city with the most knowledgeable folks there are in regards to the supernatural.”

  “Why not New Orleans?”

  “Too many hacks making a tourist dollar. I don’t need a hack. I need the real deal.” Her one good eye stared hard at Denny. “And you’re that deal.”

  “And how did you hear about me?”

  “A medium told me.”

  Of course.

  “She said to search for silver and I would find one who could help me with my problems. It took me several weeks to figure out what she was talking about. Then, your brother was all over the news and I wondered if maybe that was what she meant.”

  “That was months ago.”

  She nodded. “When the demon finally found me, I left Savannah, hoping to shake him, but he was like Velcro. When I finally got back in town, it took me a couple of weeks of lying low before I took the chance to come and see you.”

  “And that chance gave him the opportunity to find you again.”

  She nodded. “Not your fault, Golden. Don’t look so distraught. I rolled the dice and they bounced up and smashed me in the face. It happens.”

  Denny squeezed her hand. “You’ll never know how sorry I am.”

  “Sure I will. It’s all over your face. If it’ll make you feel better, he didn’t get what he was after.”

  “Your life?”

  Iris shook her head. “My pussy. He knocked the shit out of me because he intended on raping me. I kicked his balls so hard, I’m pretty sure they’re firmly lodged next to his tonsils.” Iris laughed and winced. “Ouch. My ribs are killing me.”

  Denny leaped to her feet.

  “I’m...fine...sit...sit.”

  Denny slowly sat back down and held her hand once more.

  “Cracked a few ribs, which are not happy with laughter or breathing.” She smiled at Denny. “It was a joke.”

  “And you’re certain he wanted to rape you.”

  Releasing Denny’s hand, Iris gently moved the covers aside. On either side of her inner thighs were fingernail scratch marks and bruises.

  The Hanta stirred. Denny forced it back down.

  “Jesus, Iris. I...I’m so––”

  “No more apologies, Golden. He could have killed me, but he didn’t. He didn’t get what he wanted, but we both know that doesn’t mean he’s given up.”

  “Right. Has your family been notified?”

  Iris shook her head. “I don’t need them running down here. My father believes he can throw money at anything to fix it. We are...well, estranged is the best way to put it. No, I’m on my own, and that’s how I want it.”

  “Not anymore, you’re not.” Denny squeezed her hand. “You came to the right place. I’m going to do everything I can to protect you.”

  Iris smiled softly. “I know. Rochelle called you a hunter. Said if anyone could take care of my problem, you were the one for the job. Are you really a demon hunter, Golden?”

  Denny rose and set the water on the table. “As a matter of fact, I am.” The words made her smile. Perhaps self-acceptance was the key she needed to unlock herself from her self-imposed Hanta prison.

  Closing her good eye, Iris let out a relieved sigh. “Oh, good. Maybe now I can get some rest.”

  Denny lightly brushed a stray hair from Iris’s forehead. “You rest. I’ll be back later with some kind of plan, okay?”

  Denny waited for a reply that never came. Iris had fallen sound asleep.

  ***

  Denny filled Ames in on the way back to his place. As was his way, he listened patiently while the story unfolded, waiting until she was finished before saying, “You want to help her, Goldy, it’s going to require tracking skills you don’t yet possess. It’s going to require more knowledge than what you have.”

  “Then teach me.”

  Ames couldn’t contain his smile. “If I teach you tracking skills, you have to promise me one thing.”

  “Okay.”

  “No more hanging out in bars or cemeteries wasting your time and considerable talents on low level scumbags.”

  “Junk food.”

  He chuckled under his breath. “Yeah. No more junk food.”

  Denny watched people jogging on the shady sidewalks. “That’s a deal, but how did you know I was out prow––”

  “It’s my job to know. You think just because you’re not my student that I wouldn’t pay attention to your activities? I know just about every stupid decision you’ve made since you left training.”

  “You’ve been following me around waiting for me to come to my senses?”

  This brought a bark of laughter from Ames. “Me following you? Hardly. You think you’re the only student I have?”

  Denny turned to him. “I...I never thought about it.”

  “Well, think now. You beat that steroid-infused ape of a man in arm wrestling, then nearly crippled him in that alley. That was when I was certain you were this close to losing control of your life. I was pleasantly surprised you didn’t kill him. I know you wanted to.”

  “But, I didn’t.”

  “And you won’t, but you’ve got to master all of it, Goldy. You need to become mentally and physically sharp in all things demonic. You need to spend more time learning about the many different demons. More time learning about the history behind your family’s legacy. You need to eventually know more about demonology than even I know.”

  “Is that possible? You’re an expert.”

  “And so, my dear, will you be.”

  ***

  Six sweaty and grueling hours later, after Ames had put her through her paces on the mat and in his own personal library, Denny opened the door to her empty house and stood staring at the carnage that had been her life the last three weeks. The house stank of old food and body odor, and the containers were encrusted with a variety of sauces and dressings. A trail of ants made a conga line along crusts of stale pizza.

  A pig sty.

  “Jesus, how in the hell did I live like this?” Denny glanced around at all of the used food containers, discarded napkins, and overflowing trash containers. “Rush, if you hadn’t left me before, you sure as shit would have after this mess.”

  For the next three hours, Denny vacuumed, scrubbed, washed, and dusted. And with every inch that became clean once more, Denny felt more and more in control of her destiny, and less and less attached to a past that could no longer be.

  When she finished, she sat at the table with a glass of Bailey’s over ice cubes she kept pushing down into the beige liqueur. Looking around the clean house, Denny sighed.

  “I made a lot of mistakes, Rush, but one thing I really messed up was getting mad at you for not telling me the truth about myself. I understand now why you didn’t. I was neither mature enough nor wise enough to handle that scary truth.” Denny sipped the Bailey’s. “Forgive me for that. Forgive my impetuous anger for actions that were meant to protect me.”

  Denny didn’t expect Rush to answer.

  “I know you can hear me. I count on it, actually. I also understand why you left. You always did know me better than I’ve known myself. You knew I’d cling to you until I couldn’t anymore, and I couldn’t do that and be the demon hunter. I don’t want to be possessed. I don’t really want to be a hunter, but I don’t see as I have much of a choice. That girl who c
ame by? I didn’t help her. She got her ass beat pretty badly. Well, I’m going to help her now, like I should have the first time.”

  Rising, Denny picked up her drink and walked around the room. “There’s so much to learn...so much to know. I could use your help, you know? I could use your friendship right now. I feel so alone in all of this. Of course, it’s no one’s fault but my own. When you’re ready to come back, don’t hesitate. Don’t second guess. I know we’ll never be lovers again, and while I’ll miss that, I miss your friendship more. Just know that, okay?”

  The doorbell rang and Denny set her glass on the table to go answer it. She was pleasantly surprised to find Reese at the door.

  “Oh good, you are home.”

  “Come in,” Denny said, opening the door.

  Reese stared at her a minute before entering. “You cleaned up.”

  “Yeah. I did.”

  Reese shook her head. “No, I mean you cleaned up. You look more centered than I’ve seen you. To be honest, you were looking a little ragged around the edges. I was beginning to worry.”

  “I won’t ask what being un-centered looks like.” Leading Reese into the dining room, she offered to pour her a Bailey’s.

  “I’m good.” Sitting down, Reese opened her briefcase and withdrew a large file. “Okay, I’ll cut right to it. There’s something rotten in Denmark, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say it could appear that the D.A. and Counselor Jones were in cahoots. Your brother was poorly represented by Jones. Very poorly.”

  Denny flipped the file open and read the section Reese was pointing to. “Cahoots? You mean these guys could be the two people we’re looking for?”

  “I’ve been through this list, and one of Quick’s buddies, Adam Owny, recanted his testimony about Quick not liking Lisa’s parents.”

  Denny looked up from her reading. “Recanted?”

  Reese nodded. “Said he never really admitted that Quick hated them––just that they were a pain in his ass. The D.A. said, “So life would be easier if they weren’t around, eh?”

  Denny’s eyes narrowed. “And Quick said yes.”

  Reese tapped the file. “Keep reading. I did a little more digging on Mr. Owny. Seems he was arrested a while back for possession with intent. Funny that recently the charges were dropped.”

  Denny looked up. “They cut a deal.”

  “Oh, they did more than cut a deal, Den. They changed his statement so when he was on the stand, he said––”

  Denny read the quote, “ ‘Quick told me one night that the parents needed to go––that they were in the way.’” She glanced up. “I remember when he said this, a gasp came from the spectators in the courtroom.”

  “Even though it was struck down as hearsay, the jury and everybody else heard it.” Reese reached across the table and set her hand on Denny’s. “I need you to understand what this could mean.”

  “I get what it could mean. Those two attorneys fabricated evidence to put Quick away. We’re talking conspiracy here that would blow the lid off the justice system in Georgia.”

  Reese shook her head. “That’s just the tip of a very dangerous iceberg. If you go after the D.A., he could attach other murders to your brother. He could, in essence, make a bad situation intolerable. This could go south on Quick in any number of ways. You have to consider all of this carefully.”

  Denny looked back at the file. “If you want out, Reese, I’ll understand.”

  “Out? Oh, hell no, Golden Silver, I run from no one. You just need to understand that you’re poking a rabid beast in the eye. I don’t know what they had against Quick or your family, but I’ll lay odds those two attorneys worked together to put him away for life. Do you have any idea why?”

  Denny looked at her before slowly shaking her head. “No, but I’m going to find out.”

  “We are going to find out. You need to be incredibly careful here, Denny. D.A. Carol is a prick of the highest order. He has a God complex the likes of which few neurosurgeons and Chief Justices have witnessed. Crossing him or letting him know we’re investigating him could be dangerous to us all.”

  “All?”

  “Your family. Quick. Sterling. And that’s why I’m here. I need you to talk to your siblings to find out what they think his motive might have been. You need to dig deeper than anyone ever did. Leave no stone unturned. While you do that, I’m going to have to follow all those leads the D.A. did not. This is huge, Denny. Really, really huge. Be extremely vigilant. Stay on your toes. Know that this is going to get worse before it gets better.”

  Nodding, Denny sipped her Bailey’s, leaving her hand under Reese’s warm palm. “Roger that. So you want me to talk to them both and what else? Surely there’s more I can do.”

  “That’s good for now. Keep your nose clean but your ear to the ground.”

  “Well, I’m not particularly good at, nor fond of ‘keeping my nose clean,’ as you can imagine. I’m sick of people using my family as a punching bag.”

  Reese collected the file and put it back in her briefcase. “I was afraid that was going to be your reaction. Look, Denny, flying under the radar will suit us best right now. You go off half-cocked and you could risk everything. Everything.”

  “I understand.”

  Reese leaned over the table. “Do you? Promise me you will not confront either Jones or Carol. Doing so will tip them off. We need the element of surprise. Don’t blow that for us.”

  Denny walked Reese to the door. The tension hanging between them was palpable, and though Denny might have acted upon it on another occasion in another life, she could not do so now.

  “I promise. No stupid confrontations.”

  Reese smiled sweetly. “Thank you. Get back to me after you talk to your siblings. I’ll keep you posted on everything I find out.” She touched her own nose. “Nose clean.”

  Denny grinned. “Absolutely. Thank you.”

  A quiet hesitation between them before Reese walked out the door. Denny stood at the open door and watched as she drove away.

  Yes, she had promised no stupid confrontations, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t start developing a course of action that included keeping a closer eye on the two attorneys somehow responsible for Quick’s internment. D.A. Carol and Pubic Defender Jones were on her list now.

  “Well, Rush, I guess I should have explained to Reese that Hantas seldom keep their word, huh?”

  Closing the door, Denny made her way up to her lair, where she began her studies in earnest.

  ***

  Denny read until her eyes felt like sandpaper. So much to learn––so much to know. And with thousands of books on the shelves, determining which ones to read made her head hurt.

  She’d been reading a couple of books on tracking and what to look for when tracking demons. She was also reading a book about legacies and she realized that her mother’s journal, while eye-opening so far, barely scratched the surface.

  Legacy hunters dated back to the eleventh century, but Denny’s family entered the game somewhere in the fourteenth century. Those series of books about her family’s history weren’t in her library. She was sure of that now.

  She needed to find those books.

  She needed to know more about how her ancestors were chosen.

  They were chosen, right?

  Until she figured that out, she needed to keep reading everything she could to learn as much as possible about this thing inside her.

  Only recently she’d come to understand that the Hanta within her mother had actually chosen Denny. A month ago, she’d thought it accidental––that the Hanta leapt into her when her mother coded in the hospital because of the fear her mother might die. She now realized what she’d mistaken for panic on the Hanta’s part was, in fact, patience.

  It had been waiting for her.

  It knew she was the one but needed the right time to make the transfer.

  It could have jumped into any of her siblings at any time while they were visiting their mother
, but it waited for her. It had wanted her.

  Why?

  Denny paced back and forth, questions pinging around in her head.

  Then she stopped. She realized she was asking the wrong question.

  Why not her?

  Sister Sterling was exactly where she belonged. The always pious, incredibly self-righteous nun deserved the life she was leading now behind the convent walls. Quick was too far out there to be trusted. He was rebellious and undisciplined, and would never have been the choice. Pure was simply too young. It had to be Denny, and the Hanta knew it. It had known all along.

  So, it leapt into her and then waited for her to get old enough and strong enough to handle the truth. That was pretty much what she was doing in the lair these days: handling the truth, or at least trying to get a handle.

  She had so much to learn, far more than just the glowing red eyes and growling voices. There were telltale signs of demonic activity. The demons could either flee or fight, usually the latter. Often it was static electricity left behind by demons––sometimes ominous water movement––and if the demon was particularly young, and in a new host, a smell of sulphur could be detected if someone nearby was paying close attention.

  What surprised her the most that a non-possessed human who had recently been touched by a demon actually carried the mark of that demon for a few hours upon their skin. A highly skilled hunter need only touch that person to be able to sense or “read” the nature of the demon who had left the mark.

  The mark.

  Denny thought about Bubba, the arm-wrestler.

  When she had grabbed his hand, an odd sensation had filled her. It travelled up her arm and enflamed the base of her skull, but she figured this was her Hanta’s reaction to the arm-wrestling event.

  She thought differently now.

  A demon had recently touched Bubba––maybe he’d wrestled him, maybe he’d just passed by. Whatever the case was, when she and Bubba had grabbed hands, she’d felt the mark. She hadn’t seen it, but it had to have been there somewhere.

  Rising, Denny slowly scanned her bookshelves. She found it interesting how quickly they had become her books, her lair.

  Plucking a book on Demonology, she flipped through the index. There it was: Types of Demons.