The Demon Within (The Silver Legacy Book 2)

by Alex Westmore

  Nevertheless, I’ll start a ritual of candles and incense burning during the day, when the doors and windows can be open. I’ll sprinkle, purge, and rub my head and belly at the same time if I have to. Anything to keep my family safer.

  Anything.

  I wonder if doing all this will affect the Hanta. Perhaps he’s not pure evil. Maybe just a little bit. Ames told me never to trust my own Hanta––that he could turn on me or make me do something I wouldn’t normally do.

  I find that a frightening concept, for if I do have something in me that can do that, how am I any different than any other possessed woman?

  I have so much to learn.

  Denny stayed in the lair for three more hours researching, taking notes, and trying to make sense of the order of the library she’d started spending too much time in. Three thousand books were a lot to comb through. One of the larger books mentioned something about a legacy library where all family records were kept, but Denny had been through the books over and over, never finding anything from the Silver Legacy other than her mother’s journals.

  “Let’s see...simple math tells us that there are, at the very least, two legacy hunters per family in a century, right?” Denny found herself talking out loud more than ever since Rush had left. “Let’s say, on average, there are three. If our family started in the fourteenth century, that’s approximately upwards of twenty-one hunters in the Silver Legacy. That means there should be at least that many journals.” Denny glanced at the bookshelves. “So where are they?”

  Just as she returned to her mother’s journal, the red light on the wall blinked on and off, telling Denny she had a visitor.

  Denny ignored it and walked around the room once more. She had managed to find the secret drawer under the green marble by removing a book from its place on the shelf. Were there many more such hiding places? Denny couldn’t help but wonder. Her mother had proven to be very crafty in the creation of the lair…so where had she hidden the legacy library?

  The red light continued blinking.

  “Persistent son-of-a-bitch,” she muttered, caressing the antiquated leather spines. Some were so old, the spines resembled an old woman’s wrinkled face. “Some people never know when to give it up.” Many of the books dated back to shortly after the Gutenberg printing press was invented in the fifteenth century. Ornate lettering, often in gold, lit up the cracked spines of antiquated books that would fetch thousands in the open market, more on the black market.

  “Where did all of these come from? Grandmother must have given them to you, Mom, but when? And what did she say when she gave it to you? Here, daughter, read these so you can learn how to kill demons?”

  The light continued to pester her until she lost patience with it, closed up the lair and headed downstairs.

  “I know you’re in there, Denny. Open the Goddamn door.” A fist pounded on the front door. Denny recognized the voice.

  Brianna.

  She had come by every day for twenty-one days, but today she seemed particularly agitated. Normally, she set a Tupperware dish full of food on the stoop before leaving. Food, a sweet note, and her business card. Then she would pound on the door some more before eventually giving up. She came at sporadic times, as if she was trying to trick Denny into answering the door.

  Not today.

  Today she was clearly going to beat the door until her fist was bloody.

  “I’m not leaving until you open the door. It’s been three weeks, Denny. Three fucking weeks. Victor came by the coffee shop and told me you’d dropped out of school. No one has seen you. No one has heard from you. What the fuck? Open. The. God. Damned. Door. Or you’re going to experience the powerful nature of one really pissed off witch.”

  Denny sat at the foot of the stairs. Three weeks ago, for a moment, just a brief moment, she had thought maybe she and Brianna could be something more than friends. They had the same interests, they liked the same things, and clearly a physical attraction existed between them

  After the attack on her home and family, Denny realized what a foolish thought that was. No one, not even a witch, deserved the fate of loving a demon hunter. She cared too much for Brianna to lead her down that thorny path.

  “So this is how you’re gonna play it, huh?” Brianna’s voice was both fiery and frigid. “I thought this was something that would pass––that you would lick your wounds and return to the land of the living, but it looks like I was mistaken. You’re shutting everyone out when you should be asking for help. This isn’t healthy, Denny, this…this reclusiveness, but if it’s what you want, then you have it. I won’t darken your doorstep again.”

  Denny waited for the sound of a car to start before heading back up the stairs.

  “She’s better off without me, Rush. Who knows? Maybe you are, too. What do you think about that?”

  Denny’s question was met with the same hollow emptiness as all her other questions.

  “Yeah. Just what I thought.”

  Night fell and Denny dressed in her usual gear of jeans, knee-high Doc Marten boots, and a black leather jacket. It had taken her dozens of stores to find a leather jacket with deep enough inner pockets to hold Fouet and Epée. Normally, she just wore the special vest Ames had made for her but it was still drying from being washed the night before.

  Looking in the mirror, she barely recognized herself. Her cheekbones were gaunt, her eyes dull, and her clothes hung loosely off her shoulders. Yeah, she was losing weight––probably too much––but not even the delicious looking meals Brianna had left appealed to her. Those were keeping the feral cats fat and happy.

  Ames had warned her of this––that if she wasn’t careful she would spend more time feeding the Hanta than herself.

  Apparently, that was true.

  “I have the perfect weight loss plan, Rush. It’s called Eat An Ounce of Evil, Drop a Pound.” Denny chuckled as she cinched her belt one more notch. Every day, food tasted more and more like sawdust to her. “It’s go time.”

  Go time took Denny into the dark underbelly of Savannah once more. Walking though sinister alleys and darker parks, she made her way to the Black Stallion Bar.

  Once there, she bellied back up to the battered bar hoping the bartender at the other end was the man she was looking for.

  “What’ll it be, hon?” The no-neck of a man asked.

  “Shotta Jameson.”

  He poured her a tall shot and set it in front of her, his eyes narrowing as he studied her.

  “You Rocky?” she asked.

  His eyebrow rose in question. “That depends on who wants to know.” He turned from her and addressed a lean Asian man wearing a yellow tank top that said he’d eaten Banana Rama.

  The Asian glanced over at two men who rose and slid onto stools on either side of her.

  “Yeah, he’s Rocky. What’s your name?”

  Denny looked from one to the other. They appeared to be nothing but harmless bar flies who underestimated the strength of a woman. “Golden Silver.”

  “Seriously?” The one on her left spat as he spoke.

  Denny nodded. “Who would make that shit up?”

  The shorter one on her right appraised her, his eyes scanning her face and body. “You know you’re in a gay bar, right?”

  Denny felt her patience slipping. The Hanta wanted nothing more than to pound their faces in. “Why does everyone keep asking me that? Yes, I know I’m in a gay bar. Look at me! Do I look straight?”

  The two men exchanged glances. “Uh, no. Not exactly.”

  “We just wondered is all. We don’t like cops and shit coming in here to harass us.”

  Denny forced a grin she didn’t feel. “I’m not a cop, but I am the shit. I just came to talk to Rocky.”

  “Rocky or Ricky?”

  Denny tilted her head to the guy on her left. He could have been a Chippendale––he was that good looking. “You messing with me?”

  “They’re twins. That one there is Ricky. You can tell ’cause he’s g
ot lighter hair. Whatcha wanting him for?”

  Denny pounded back the shot and tossed a ten on the bar. “Do you happen to know when Rocky works?”

  “He don’t come in until after ten.”

  Sliding off the stool, Denny thanked them before heading out the door.

  She was about thirty yards away when she felt it. It rolled up over her spine and tickled the base of her skull. The Hanta rose to life.

  Slowly turning, she saw Ricky jogging toward her, his man boobs in need of a manzier.

  “You a cop?” He asked as he neared. “Those guys said you weren’t, but you sure act like one.”

  “Don’t really know what a cop acts like.” Denny fully faced him, feeling the Hanta. “Why do you care, anyway?”

  “What do you want with my brother?”

  The moon lit up the dirty parking lot, lengthening all sorts of bizarre shadows that appeared more like hand shadow puppets than real shadows.

  “Someone told me he might have the answers to some questions I have.”

  Ricky looked around before stepping closer. “Take my advice and leave him alone. He’s not one you want to bother.”

  “No can do, my friend. I understand he might––”

  “You don’t understand shit. My brother...he’s not...I don’t know. He doesn’t like being questioned. If you’re smart, you’ll let go of whatever questions you got and move on with your life.”

  Denny stepped closer to him. He was a good six inches taller. “You sound scared of him. Why on earth would you be afraid of your twin?”

  “Not scared. He...he’s changed. I just...I don’t want to see anyone get hurt is all.”

  “And why would you suspect he would hurt me? He doesn’t even know me.”

  Ricky stepped away. “I don’t…I don’t really know. He’s unpredictable now, that’s all. Look. You seem nice enough. Like I said, do yourself a favor and leave Rocky alone.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate the heads-up. I’ll think about what you’ve said.” Denny watched as Ricky jogged back to the bar, certain that the change Ricky saw was due to demonic influences. It was pretty clear this brother was frightened.

  If Rocky was possessed, that meant she couldn’t outright kill him. She would have to find another way to get him to talk.

  “Come on, Rush. Let’s see what else we can dig up.” Denny casually walked through the red light district on River Street, her senses keen to any demonic activity she might run across. Not that the Hanta was hungry She just wanted the action.

  She didn’t pick any danger up. At least, not from demons. But plenty of negative energy from humans abounded––enough to fill a stadium.

  As she strolled along, she wondered if her mother ever walked the streets looking for demons. Did she actively hunt or wait for trouble to crop up? She’d need to get deeper into her mom’s journal, but doing so…well…it hurt her heart.

  Denny couldn’t imagine trying to do this with a family. With children. How did she manage to juggle a family with demon hunting? It was beyond her.

  As the night grew darker, the noise became louder and people spilled out into the streets. She used to be one of those happy-go-lucky people who socialized, laughing and enjoying the beauty of Savannah at night.

  That felt like a lifetime ago.

  Now, as a creature of the dark––staying up all night, sleeping in until noon––her body didn’t know if she was coming or going. It didn’t seem to care. She didn’t seem to care.

  Just as she rounded a corner, she came to a bar called The Office. She remembered that Quick used to hang out here, so it was as good a place as any to continue digging.

  As she headed for the door, a heavyset black guy called her name. Turning, she saw one of Quick’s old friends coming up the walkway.

  “Well, if it isn’t Golden Silver.”

  Denny grinned. “Oscar…Didion. How the hell are you?” Denny hugged him to her for a brief moment. He smelled of Axe cologne and marijuana, a familiar odor that hovered around Quick’s usual crowd.

  “I’m good, man. Good. I’m sorry about your bro’, man. That shit stinks.”

  Denny moved away from the door so others could enter. “Yeah, it does. You know what else stinks? How none of his friends stood up for him. How none of his friends call him. How none of his friends will drive to Atlanta to visit him.”

  Oscar jammed his hands into his pockets and looked away. “I keep meaning to, but life gets in the way, ya know?”

  “What I know, Oscar, is he has no life to get in his way. Look, go or don’t go. It doesn’t matter to me. What matters is helping him get out of jail, and you can help me with that.”

  “You bustin’ him loose or something?”

  “No. What I need from you is a list of all the guys Quick hung out with in the last month before the murder.”

  Oscar’s head shot up. “Why you need that?”

  Before Denny could answer, two of Oscar’s buddies joined them. They reeked of sour mash and weed.

  “Lookie here, Tony. If it ain’t one a’ the Silver girls.” The heavyset bald guy looked ridiculous wearing his shades behind his head.

  “I’ll meet you guys inside,” Oscar said. “We’re busy out here.”

  Tony’s eyebrows rose like they were moving independently from the rest of his face. “Busy? Oh man, now that Q is gone, we’re allowed to get busy with his little sisters?” Tony stepped closer, leering like a cartoon wolf.

  “Fuck off, T. We’re talkin’ is all.”

  Tony stood eye to eye with Denny, who felt the familiar sensation of warm honey flowing through her veins. She almost felt sorry for this cretin.

  “Well, little sister, I sure as shit do more than just talk.”

  As Tony raised his hand toward Denny, her hand shot out, grabbed his in a thumb lock and drove him to his knees.

  Both Oscar and the other guy jumped back as Tony howled.

  “Listen here, you fat piece of shit,” Denny growled. “Don’t you ever presume to touch me again. If you so much as look at me cross-eyed, I’ll fucking tear your eyeballs out and feed them to you for lunch. You understand?”

  Tony blinked as his face contorted with pain. “God damn, I was just messin’––”

  Denny applied more torque. “No messin’. No touchin’. No teasin’. Nothing. Not me or any other woman in my family. Are we clear?”

  Tony winced. “Yeah! Yeah. Let go my fuckin’ hand!”

  Denny lowered her face to his, her voice changing slightly. “Are you an idiot? All you had to do was say yes. ‘Yes, we’re clear.’ How hard was that?” With a twist of her hand, she bent his wrist back and watched Tony fall to the ground. In the back of her mind rang a little alarm. Maybe the Hanta wanted to break his wrist. It wasn’t always easy to tell. Maybe she—it—whoever, had gone a little too far. But she couldn’t get distracted with that right now. She had some answers to find.

  Tony howled once more. “Mother fucker! You almost broke my fuckin’ arm!” Tony grabbed his wrist as he scrambled to his feet and backed away.

  “It was your wrist, and that’s what happens when you treat people with disrespect.” Denny cut her eyes over to the other guy. “You want some of this, too? I’ve got plenty of mean to go around.”

  He backed away, stammering, “No. No. I’m good.”

  “No, you’re not. None of you are. You’re the shittiest friends on the planet but I am going to give you a chance to redeem yourselves. You have twenty-four hours to bring me a list of names of guys who were hanging with my brother one or two months before Lisa was killed. Male, female, I don’t care. I want that list yesterday, so don’t make me come after you. You wouldn’t like seeing me angry. Leave it for me here.”

  Tony and his friend scurried away, leaving a wide-eyed and open-mouthed Oscar standing alone.

  “You were saying?”

  “I…I’ll have the list tomorrow night.”

  Denny wiped her hands on her jeans. “Good answer. You tell al
l of Quick’s friends to cough up a list or I’m coming after them. You let everyone know that I am going to find the real killer, and when I do…” she shook her head. “Just let them know what happens when someone gets in my way.”

  As Denny started away from the bar, Oscar called out to her, “Denny?”

  “Yeah?”

  “How...how did you do that?”

  Denny flashed a grin that felt awkward on her face. “Haven’t you heard? I’m possessed.”

  After stopping at a few more bars to deliver the same message, Denny headed for her thinking spot in the cemetery. Something about the Bonaventure Cemetery stilled her mind and eased her conflicted spirit. Its natural cathedral and sculpted garden, while stunning in the light, were serene at night in a way only those traveling in the armpits of Savannah would understand or even notice.

  The shadows alone kept even the bravest souls out. They moved with even the slightest wind, and when there was no moon, the darkness hung like a blanket wrapping its arms around her.

  Not a place for the faint of heart.

  The cemetery gave Denny some much needed peace in her life. So much had started spiraling out of control after she spoke to her mother…after she realized that Quick might not be guilty after all.

  Denny had been so wrapped up in her first year of college that Quick’s arrest and charge of multiple horrific murders had seemed surreal. She’d thought it all a case of mistaken identity, never realizing, until too late, that he was going down for this heinous crime…that he had actually been there when Lisa and her parents had been killed.

  And though she had “been there” for him, she’d relied on public defenders and a broken legal system to find justice. Like expecting a blind man in a barn to find a particular piece of hay.

  She’d watched helplessly as her brother received a sentence of life in prison.

  She had done nothing.

  Maybe she’d felt powerless to do anything.

  Then the Hanta appeared, giving her both power and the understanding that it wasn’t too late to help Quick. She had what it took to get to the truth, and she wouldn’t stop digging. She wouldn’t give up until she found––