Blood of the Demon (The Silver Legacy Book 3)

by Alex Westmore

  She marveled at how anyone could find her way around the labyrinth of a swamp. There were inlets and waterways shooting in every direction, and one river road looked like all of the rest. It would take a lifetime of lifetimes for her to get out of here on her own.

  “Mistress be wid you soon. Wait on de porch.”

  Denny did as she was told, and the moment she sat down, a short rotund women wearing the same colorful garb as Hélène walked out onto the porch and sat across from Denny.

  She stared a long time before finally saying, “Dat be de mark of dat Priestess Hélène.”

  Denny nodded. Enobaria had flawless dark skin with riveting hazel eyes. She was quite beautiful and had a presence about her of quiet confidence.

  “You come for my hep.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She rocked a few times before replying, “De demons run free from de hole, yes?”

  “Very free, yes. New Orleans...a lot of people are getting hurt and I don’t even know how or why. Hélène says you might know.”

  Enobaria pulled out a think black cigar and lit it. “It were dem boysa hers dat took whad weren’t they’s to take. No manners dem boys. No ’spect fer de old ways.”

  Denny didn’t know what to say, so wisely kept mum.

  “Farquar come fer my hep.” Enobaria leaned over, her elbows on her knees, her almost yellow eyes looked at Denny’s. “You are not like Farquar.”

  “No ma’am, I am not.”

  Enobaria leaned back. “I wadn’t expectin’ someone like you.”

  “Like me?”

  She moved the cigar to the other side of her mouth. “Yes, Farquar...problems...happen all de time. De demon inside...it get stronger...greedier. Fo’ you knows it, it dig in...make you sick...crazy. Make you fergit who you is.”

  “Well, I’ve not been one for very long. Talk to me in ten years.”

  “I just might do dat, Hunter, but it be much quicker dan ten years. Your demon is verra strong.”

  “My demon and I are working things out, but it doesn’t sound like Peyton and hers are.”

  “Farquar stands on shiftin’ sand, Hunter. Sands dat threaten to swaller her up.”

  Denny leaned forward. The rocker creaked. “Can we talk about that?”

  “Ain’t dat why you come to da swamp? You been whirlin’ ‘round lookin’ fer someones to give ya answers dey ain’t got.”

  Denny nodded. “Peyton came here because she was in trouble. She wanted...” Denny paused. “What did she want, Enobaria?”

  “Dat would be between Farquar and me. What is it you really want to know? What would make you let dat women Hélène put da mark on you?” Enobaria jutted her chin out toward Denny.

  “As I understand it, Peyton came to you for help in getting respite from her demon. I can only surmise you gave Peyton a ritual of some sort to help her with her demon issue...but Hélène’s young ones—”

  “Ownee heard part. I know. Hélène has always needed to rein dem boys in. Dey had no business listenin’ to my magic, and now, dey pay de price for der disrespect of Enobaria, of Vodouisants, of the supernatural and spiritual world.”

  “I understand, I really do, but—”

  “But dat’s jus’ it. You don’t. Jess ask what it is you want, Hunter. You are runnin’ out of time.”

  “I need to know what ritual you gave to Farquar so Hélène can replicate it in order to close the rift.”

  Enobaria burst into laughter. “Dat women always been so fulla herself. She cannot perform one of Enobaria’s spells. Nuh-uh. She does not have Enobaria’s skill or magic.”

  Denny leaned forward. “Wait. What?”

  Enobaria tilted her head to one side. “Did Hélène tell you she de Mambo Priestess?”

  Denny nodded.

  Enobaria burst into laughter once more. “Oh, Hunter, Enobaria is not laughin’ at choo. Hélène wishes she was, but she ain’t. Dat woman is a priestess, yes, but she is not a Mambo. If she were, don’t cha tink Farquar woulda seeked her out insteada me?”

  Denny cocked her head. “So...are you the Mambo?”

  Enobaria waved this off. “I follow no religion, hunter, so no. I am neither Mambo nor Priestess. It is why dey call me de Swamp Queen.”

  “With all due respect, ma’am. I don’t have time for a Voodoo ego-wrestling contest between you two. There are several Haitian kids who are possessed by very evil demons. The city is being overrun and the moment Peyton Farquar is back on her feet, those boys are as good as dead. I have come to you for help. If you cannot or will not lend me a hand, regardless of what everyone calls you, then I must be off.” Denny rose.

  “Dat’s it? All you want is Enobaria’s incantation? Ya disappoint me.”

  “What I want is the source closed, and those kids not held accountable for more than making a stupid mistake. I’ll take whatever help I can get.”

  Enobaria shook her head. “De answer you seek is right in front of your face, Hunter. You choose not to see it, but it is der. You are still not askin’ the right question.”

  Denny slowly sat back down. “I don’t understand.”

  “No, I can see dat you do not. You do not have de whole story. When we do not have de whole story, we make bad decisions. You are about to make one. It is good you risked your life comin’ to me.”

  “I just want to help, Enobaria.”

  Enobaria turned her head this way and that. “You tell de truth. Enobaria can see dat. She sees much in your spirit—your struggle, your fears.” She snapped her fingers and suddenly, two young boys appeared. “Bati dife al. Mennen m’ posyon mwen.”

  The boys scurried off as Enobaria rose. “You want insight about dis trouble, den you must trust Enobaria.”

  “Trust you to what?”

  “I’ll send you to de truth you seek, but to do so, you must drink de potion and open your mind.”

  Denny hesitated.

  Enobaria pointed to Denny’s face. “I cannot harm you as long as you wear de mark.” She took Denny’s chin and turned her face this way and that. “A mark that is more than a tattoo, but we do not have time to explain it all. I have nothin’ to gain by hurtin’ you or yer friends. You came to Enobaria for answers...is my way of sharin’ dem wid you.” Enobaria started down the stairs. “Drink or don’t, but der is only one way to find de truth, and dat is from widin.”

  Denny started for the stairs.

  “Come. You are in good hands here in de Swamp Queen’s realm.”

  Denny felt the stillness of her Hanta. It did not appear to fear Enobaria or her swamp rats.

  As she followed the heavy-set women to a clearing, Denny realized they were at a campfire of sorts. Five tree stumps ringed the fire the two boys were already stroking.

  “Fire is de friend of magic, Hunter. It is transformative and mind-alterin’.” She held her hand out and one of the boys handed her a pouch and a mug. She pulled a dried leaf out of her pouch and crinkled it into the mug. Then she opened up a small container filled with yellowish powder and sprinkled that in as well. She pulled out a needle, pricked her finger and squeezed one drop of blood into it before handing the mug to the boy.

  “Pa twas cho.”

  Denny could not look away.

  “When Farquar came to Enobaria, she was not well in her spirit. She struggle agin dat which you both carry widin you. You drink de potion and sit wid your eyes closed. De truth will reveal itself. Remember dat always, Hunter. De truth will always reveal itself. Ownee sometimes we see it too late.”

  Denny sat on a stump and watched as one of the boys heated the mug over the fire, her thoughts drifting to her mother and the truth she had only recently discovered about Valeria and her true feelings for Gwen. She thought about the truth of needing a witch, and the fact that her witch was neither Cassandra nor Brianna. She thought about the disappointing truth of who Peyton had turned out to be, and she reflected back on the truth of who she was becoming. Enobaria was right. Denny would have to trust herself for the truth.<
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  “Ki se yon bon bagay ase. Ba li gode a.”

  The boy with the mug handed it to Denny who looked down into it. It looked like tea.

  “Drink it all. Keep your eyes closed and listen to my words. Tink no thoughts, feel nuddin’. Jus’ listen to Enobaria’s words.”

  Inhaling deeply, Denny tossed the lukewarm tea down, expecting the taste to be gross.

  She was wrong. It tasted like green tea.

  “Now Hunter, hear Enobaria’s chant.”

  Denny closed her eyes and suddenly, a low drum beat...no, two drums beat on either side of her. They were not loud but consistent in their ‘bum, bum, bumbumbum’ staccato.

  “K’ap koute li nana chante,” came Enobaria’s soft voice. It sounded to Denny like her lips were mere inches from Denny’s ear.

  Bum, bum, bumbumbum, bum.

  The drums beat on and Enobaria repeated the chant. “K’ap koute li nana chante.”

  The fire suddenly came to life, moving to the beat of the drums.

  Denny rubbed her eyes. She knew that couldn’t be right. The drugged tea was playing with her mind. The chanting was mesmerizing. Wherever Denny was about to go, she was going alone.

  Bum, bum, bumbumbum, bum.

  Her body relaxed into the rhythm until, at last, it sounded far, far away. The undulating beats had ceased and Denny now sat around a fire watching Enobaria perform a ritual on Peyton.

  “Peyton?” Denny said, shaking her foggy head. Was this right?

  No, Peyton, was not here and this was not real. This was a vision of some sort brought about by the tea.

  Right?

  Enobaria began a recitation of a Voodoo spell, and slowly turned toward Denny. “Memorize this chant, Hunter. It is what you seek.”

  Denny opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out.

  Enobaria chanted once, twice, then stopped.

  “What is it?” Peyton asked. “Why did you stop?”

  “Your demon is strong. I do not tink I can send you to a place apart from it. It refuses to release you even for da moment.”

  Peyton bowed her head in defeat. “See? I am captive of this thing and I don’t know what else to do. I...I just need a break...an hour or two without its fucking presence. It is...I’m afraid it’s turning me into a killer.”

  Then she did something that stunned Denny to her core.

  Peyton Farquar, demon hunter extraordinaire, started to cry.

  Denny leaned forward, her thoughts going back to the many entries Peyton had written in the Kill Book.

  “My god,” she murmured, her hand slightly covering her mouth. “She’s fighting total possession.”

  “I cannot hep you, Hunter. I am unsure anyone can. Your demon is wrestlin’ for your very soul. It has taken root.”

  “But you said—”

  “Dat I would open a rift that would enable you to exist demon free for a while, so you could catch your breath, yes. I am aware of my words. Words are da mos’ powerful ting on de planet, but dey cannot hep you, hunter. I am sorry.”

  “I don’t care if it injures me, Enobaria. I need you to try. Please, I am begging you. I am slowly going insane.”

  Enobaria sat next to Peyton and held her hand. “If I was to accidentally kill you in the process, I would never again know peace. I’m sorry. I tried, but I see dat to do so may be da death of you.”

  Enobaria suddenly vanished.

  Denny found herself in the area where the rift was, only it was not open.

  The five Vodouisants youth sat with Peyton in the park. “We can do it, Hunter. We can help you be free.”

  Denny held her breath. “No. Oh, Peyton, what did you do?”

  But she knew the vision was the past. It had already happened. Peyton had allowed the five Vodouisants to do what Enobaria would not.

  And they had no idea what they were doing.

  Denny murmured, “You must have been so desperate.”

  The five youths drummed and chanted as Enobaria had and used the first portion of the ritual she’d spoken.

  Then something happened.

  Denny stood erect, watching, waiting, her keen Hanta ears picking up the changes in the words.

  They hadn’t made a mistake.

  They had chanted a completely different ritual!

  As the Vodouisants chanted and banged their drums, Peyton’s body went slack. Then, the rift opened in one of the tree trunks, the light pouring forth in vibrant yellows and oranges. It looked like the sun was trying to break free of the trunk.

  But that wasn’t what blew her mind.

  When Peyton groaned, Denny turned toward her and watched in awe as her Hanta rose from her head and for a brief moment, hovered above her, its feet still in the top of her head. It twisted this way and that, struggling to keep its tenuous grasp.

  And then, like the sound of Velcro tearing apart, the Hanta was ripped out of Peyton and sucked into the rift. Two seconds later, a mid-level demon hobbled from the rift and leapt into the temple that had just been vacated by the Hanta.

  “Holy shit,” Denny uttered as the Hanta disappeared into the vortex of light. “So that’s what’s been wrong with her.”

  Pieces began falling into place. Before Denny could see the whole picture, the five youths were possessed by five Dybbuk demons who flew from the source and right into each one.

  Denny waited, her eyes never leaving the opening. She remembered the conversation about the demons seeking out children because they were easier to possess.

  “We gotta get outta here,” one of the boys said.

  “Should we take her?”

  “Hell no.”

  “Let’s kill her.”

  All four stared at the would-be killer.

  Denny understood that the Dybbuks would need a moment to acclimate to the new bodies and surroundings. They had not yet completely possessed the boys.

  Except for the killer.

  It was probably an older, wiser Dybbuk; one who had been through before.

  It knew.

  Luckily for Peyton, the other four Vodouisants just wanted to get the hell out, and did, leaving Peyton struggling to stand up. When she rose, she wretched a few times before being accosted by a new demon coming from the rift. She dispatched it with ease.

  And then, on wobbly legs, Peyton made her way out of the park.

  “Oh Peyton,” Denny uttered under her breath. “You had no idea you were facing a demon without your own Hanta. Possessed, yes, but not with a spirit-eater.”

  The images of Peyton and the rift slowly faded and were replaced by the vision of Peyton on a darkened street with three demons beating the crap out of her.

  “She didn’t know. Oh my God, she didn’t know. She went right into an ambush not aware that her dark passenger was gone.”

  The demons kicked and pummeled her until a group of tourists passed by.

  “She walked right into it. How could she not know her demon was gone? What’s the matter with her?”

  The image was replaced by a bloodied and battered Peyton practically crawling home and to her lair.

  “This is where she left off,” Denny said, rising. “This was where she almost met her death.” She knew Peyton would collapse just outside her lair. She’d seen enough.

  ***

  When Denny woke from her drug-induced epiphany, she found herself lying in a boat on the bayou with her head in Iris’s lap. Dusk was beginning to set in.

  “Where...”

  “Shh. That drug isn’t out of your system yet. Go slowly. I can mix something up for you when we get back, but right now, you’re still half in the bag.”

  Denny tried to focus, but Iris’s face swam before her. “I feel sick.” Rolling over on her side, Denny threw up over the side of the boat.

  “That’s right. Get it all out.” Iris stroked her head. “We were getting worried.”

  Wiping her mouth, Denny settled back into Iris’s lap and closed her eyes. “That’s one strange woman.”

&n
bsp; “When they dropped you off, they said you’d been drugged so you could see the truth of all of this. What did you see?”

  Before Denny could answer, Annalee peered into Denny’s eyes. “She can tell us on the way back. We have to get out of here before dark.”

  Denny struggled to sit up. “Before dark? How long have I been gone?

  “Almost nine hours.”

  “What?” Denny sat up too quickly and immediately regretted it. She barfed again. “Nine hours? I’ve been out nine hours?”

  “We have no idea how long you’ve been out, but you’ve been gone almost nine hours.”

  “Your witch has been going bonkers waiting. I gotta say, I was beginning to wonder myself. I have very little experience with Voodoo High Priestesses, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. I didn’t expect this. At all.”

  Iris rose and assisted Denny. “Come on. Let’s get the hell out of here. We do not want to get caught here after dark.”

  “I feel like I was run over.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s kinda how you look. So, what happened in the swamp?”

  Denny inhaled and wished she had a breath mint. “This little adventure just got weirder.”

  “Oh? How weird?”

  Iris and Annalee were silent while Denny finished telling them about her visions. At last Annalee spoke.

  “So let me get this straight. Peyton Farquar no longer has her Hanta?”

  Denny shook her head. “Which makes total sense. I don’t know how I missed it.”

  “Missed what?”

  Denny looked over at Iris, whose face brightened as if understanding.

  “Of course. How could we have missed it?”

  “Missed what?” Annalee edged closer to them.

  “Peyton isn’t healing...not like she should. We were so concerned over her health and safety, none of us realized she wasn’t healing like we normally do.”

  “It never even dawned on me,” Iris added. “She just seemed weak.”

  “Wait. So she really doesn’t have her Hanta?”

  Denny shook her head. “That’s why she got the crap beat out of her. She has a demon, all right, but it’s no legacy demon. She went up against three demons who could have, and almost did succeed in killing her.”