Demon Hunter

by Linda Kay Silva

  My lair.

  I’d stopped thinking about it in terms of it being Mom’s. No. It was mine now, and for better or worse, I was taking on the role of demon hunter whether I wanted to or not. What I needed to know was whether I had just killed a human being and was a murderer or if I had destroyed a demon.

  I found the answer in a book titled The Killing of Demons and Witches.

  Apparently, killing a witch could get you thrown in prison for murder, but not so with all demons. If a human has been possessed, and you strike it with your armes magiques, or magical weapons, they will cut through the demon and purge it from the body. If, however, a demon is walking around in human form, uh...well, I’d seen the result of that action. They explode. Combust. Make a huge mess.

  Well, at least I didn’t have to worry about the cops knocking on my door. That was a relief.

  I set the book aside and picked up Mom’s journal. I opened it at the front. I wanted to know what her first kill had been like. I couldn’t even imagine my kind-hearted mother pulling a weapon out and blowing a demon to bits.

  That reminded me. I needed to develop some sort way of carrying the weapons besides in my backpack. I wondered what I could use. Then it dawned on me. Mom always carried around this big purse—the kind you could live in. It had always been off limits to us kids. We were always teasing her about it. Is that where she kept her armes magiques?

  Thinking about that big purse triggered other memories about my mother, the demon hunter. She loved Doc Martens, which was why both Pure and I wore them. I learned about using Super Glue to close wound from her as well. She’d had a cut on her chin once and she was in the process of applying the glue when I walked in on her. I remembered it as if it was yesterday. She told me she had banged it on the sink.

  And those leather “driving gloves” she always wore. Always. No one wears gloves in Savannah in summer.

  The puzzle that was my mother began to fill in. Flipping to an earlier section, I reached for my glasses, but they were not on the top of my head.

  “Shit.”

  I’d just had them on when I was reading the Killing book. Before I began to look for them, I glanced at the page of the journal I wanted to read.

  It was perfectly clear.

  Blinking, and then rubbing my eyes, I stared down at the page. I could make out every word.

  I’d been wearing glasses since I was twelve. I hadn’t seen a clear page without glasses in forever and yet, there they were.

  “What the hell?”

  I felt both excited and a little scared. What was happening to me?

  I thought I could see because of Fouet and Epee, but they were not with me. Then I thought it was because of the triquetra necklace, so I took it off.

  Everything was still perfectly clear.

  I took some deep, cleansing breaths and plunged into reading about my mother’s first kill.

  It was easier than I thought, slicing the demon into tiny bits with Epee. The seven or eight pieces lay quivering on the ground as if trying to find a way to reconnect. Then, the most bizarre thing occurred—he blew up. Blood and guts spewed everywhere until there was nothing left but detritus.

  Demon detritus.

  As grotesque as it was, there was something satisfying and gratifying to know he could not come back to life. He had done some horrifically vile things in his time here. It was a pleasure to put him out of our misery...but a pleasure that was short-lived.

  Why short-lived?

  I had to wonder what killing those creatures would do to my psyche. While these demons do not deserve to live, there is a heavy weight in being judge and executioner. A heavy weight indeed.

  It is a yoke I am only now getting used to—a responsibility handed down to me from my mother and her mother. It is our legacy, and though I have no idea what this will mean to my life down the road as wife and mother, I know that right now, it is a job, a duty, and a moral obligation I must be part of. It is our calling, and I will not turn my back on our family legacy.

  Not now.

  Someday, maybe, but for now, I am the demon hunter.

  I closed the book and shook my head. She seemed to have donned the mantel without any questions. Maybe my grandmother had explained it to her before she died, so that she wasn’t walking around as lost as I was, with so many unanswered questions. Or maybe she just embraced the life changing hat of Gwen Silver, Demon Hunter.

  Whatever it was, she breezed right to the next kill. She called them prey or quarry. Maybe that made it feel less...personal.

  Killing, even when you don’t know the person, feels personal. At least, it did for me. Even though I wasn’t angry or afraid, there was still an element of— Wait.

  Why wasn’t I afraid?

  Two young men coming at me, obviously to do me harm, and I wasn’t afraid? Not even a little bit. As a matter of fact, I relished the notion of cleaving them in two.

  What was wrong with me?

  I checked the clock realized I had less than an hour before the people taking part in the séance arrived. Time to smudge, light the candles, and find out what the hell has happened to my lover.

  ****

  Once the introductions were done, Brianna sat to the right of the head of the table and told Denny to sit across from her.

  “Cassandra will arrive shortly. She’s the head of our Séance Committee.”

  Denny stared at her.

  “Yes, we have a Séance Committee. We also have a committee on Magic, Spells, and Potions.”

  One of the other women, Seline, cleared her throat. “Bri?”

  “Jesus Christ, Seline, Golden Silver talks to ghosts. You think she doesn’t know about Wiccan magick and other supernatural phenomenon?”

  “I’m saying I don’t believe it wise to talk to someone outside the coven about what we do. You know the rules.”

  “And that right there is the problem. As long as we find comfort in the closet, we’ll never be free of the stigma attached to our way of life,” another of the women said.

  “That’s enough out of both of you,” Brianna said. “We’re guests in Denny’s home and you will comport yourselves accordingly.”

  Denny looked at the two women, both of whom backed down.

  “Thank you. Now, Denny, did you prepare as directed?”

  Denny nodded. “Saged, incensed, lit white candles.”

  “Excellent. Now, I...” Brianna stopped talking and leaned as far across the great table as she could. “Uh...Denny, can we get everyone a glass of water? We never know how long this is going to take.”

  Denny pushed away from the table. “Sure.”

  Brianna followed Denny into the kitchen. She grabbed her and examined her face.

  “What the hell happened here?” she asked, running her finger gently over Denny’s Super Glued eye brow.

  “Uh...cut myself shaving?”

  “Not funny.” Brianna stepped back. “That needs stitches.”

  “I know, but I don’t have time. I’m a fast healer, don’t you worry.”

  “I’d worry less if I knew what happened. It looks like someone cut you with a knife.”

  Denny looked into Brianna’s deep blue eyes and knew that if she wasn’t careful, Brianna would fall hard for her, and that was a complication she did not need right now.

  “I merely made the mistake of cutting through the cemetery. Two guys started fucking with me.”

  Brianna’s hand went to her mouth. “Oh no.”

  “He split my eyebrow, I bashed his teeth in, and I can tell you that he’ll never come at me again.”

  “How scary. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Were you scared?”

  “Honestly, I’m more afraid of tonight.” Denny placed twelve glasses on a tray and filled the pitcher with ice.

  “Tonight? The séance? How come?”

  Denny poured water into each of the glasses. “What if Rush doesn’t come through? What if she never returns? I’m ba
ck where I started, wondering if I will ever have the chance to say goodbye.”

  “If she doesn’t or can’t, at least we might have more information about her disappearance and where she is than you have right now. Um, do you want some help with that tray? It’s going to be really heavy.”

  Denny lifted the tray with little effort. “Nope. I got it.”

  Brianna stared as Denny easily held a tray full of a dozen glasses of water and a pitcher of ice water.

  “She’s here,” someone shouted from the dining room.

  “Have faith, Denny.” She took the pitcher from the tray and headed back to the dining room.

  “Rush?” Denny said in a hushed voice. “If you can hear me, please, please, please find some way of letting me know you’re alright. Please.”

  Denny set the tray on the table before extending her hand to a tall woman who had just entered the room.

  She wore a purple cape with her hood drawn, and after shaking Denny’s hand, she pushed her hood back.

  “Golden Silver, this is Cassandra. She’ll be leading the séance tonight.”

  Cassandra’s penetrating gaze made Denny feel like a bug under a microscope. “I understand your spirit has vanished and you wish to know if she is going to return.”

  Denny nodded, slowly extricating her hand from Cassandra’s. “Yes. She’s been in the house since we moved in thirteen years ago. Suddenly, nothing.”

  “And we are speaking of Rushalyn Holbrook.”

  “Yes. I need to know...if she needs help.”

  “Help? Interesting.” Cassandra’s eyes were riveting.

  “Denny has done all of the required pre-séance preparations, Cassandra. We’re ready to proceed.”

  Cassandra had not taken her eyes off Denny’s. “There is...something else.” She stared deep into Denny’s eyes, her eyes searching. “Something almost…but not quite…evil.”

  Denny said nothing.

  “Cassandra!” Brianna barked.

  “Something deeper…darker even.”

  “Rush and I are...very close.”

  Cassandra waved the remark away. “No, I feel this has nothing to do with Rushalyn Holbrook. There is something...about you.”

  Denny forced herself not to look away.

  “Whatever it is, Golden Silver, is at the heart of all of this,” Cassandra waved her arms in the air. “But we shall not know until we call her forth. Let us get started.” She whipped off the long cape and was the only one who looked, to Denny, like a Wiccan in her cape, long black hair, and her heavy mascara.

  “Now, are you certain you truly want to open this door to the spirit world?” Cassandra asked Denny. “Because closing that door is harder than it may appear.”

  “Yes.”

  “You must be absolutely certain. We may be able to open the door, but we cannot control who comes through it.”

  Denny nodded and folded her hands in front of her. “I’m positive.”

  “Are there any skeptics or nonbelievers in this room or nearby?”

  No one answered.

  “Your little sister?” Brianna asked Denny.

  “Is at a friend’s,” Denny said.

  Cassandra cleared her throat. “Is anyone here fearful or nervous?”

  No one replied.

  Cassandra motioned to a redhead sitting next to Brianna. “Rose, the recorder, please.”

  Rose set a small recorder in the middle of the table.

  “Excellent. Now, everyone close your eyes—”

  “Don’t we hold hands?”

  Cassandra gave Denny a patronizing smile. “Not necessarily. Would you rather?”

  Denny nodded. “Please.”

  Cassandra offered her warm hand. “Now please, close your eyes, breathe deep, and think of Rushalyn. I shall contact my spirit guide and request her assistance on our journey. I will also ask her to escort Rushalyn to us, if that is possible. Begin now.”

  Denny pictured Rush’s face, heard her voice, her laughter. She missed her more than she thought possible.

  Several moments passed when Cassandra inhaled deeply, as if surprised by something. “The door is opening.” Cassandra then muttered something in a language Denny didn’t understand.

  After a long pause, Cassandra spoke again. “My spirit guide says she is not alone. There are...yes...I understand...what is that? I don’t believe...no...I did feel something. Yes. I don’t...It’s hard to hear you. What is that other—”

  The lights flickered, the candles all blew out. Cassandra inhaled like a person who had been underwater too long.

  Then, nothing.

  The silence permeated the air. Everyone waited. Nobody moved. Denny felt her heart banging inside her chest as if trying to get out.

  “Patience,” Cassandra whispered. “It’s com—”

  “Where’s the Hanta?” The voice that came from Cassandra was not hers. It was accusing, deep, angry. She almost sounded male. “The Hanta. How dare you bring a Hanta to my domain.”

  Denny’s eyes flew open. Brianna was staring at Cassandra who was glaring at her accusingly.

  “I…I’m not sure,” Brianna answered. “I’ve...never seen—”

  “Silence!” Cassandra ordered. The voice was that of a commanding male. “Do not dare speak to me. You, who are so ignorant you do not see what is before you. Your very own destruction. It will be your destruction, not mine.”

  “Where is Rush?” Brianna asked. “Rushalyn Holbrook. Where is she?”

  “You have no power here, witch.” The gravelly voice coming from Cassandra was creepy and harsh.

  “I’m not planning on using any. We merely want to know—”

  “Where that little cunt Rushalyn is. Well let me tell you. Her days of—”

  “Shut your fucking mouth.” Denny rose as Cassandra’s head turned toward her with unseeing eyes. “You shut your goddamned mouth.” Denny began breathing heavily and felt the now familiar warmth begin to flow through her. “You hurt her and there’s no place you can hide—”

  Suddenly, Cassandra pushed away from the table, screaming over and over, “Hanta! Hanta! Get away from me. Get. A. Way.”

  Cassandra’s body sagged in her chair. Several women immediately went to Cassandra’s side and opened smelling salts.

  Brianna’s eyes never left Denny’s. “Seline, get Cassandra a glass of water. Rose, shut that off,” pointing to the recorder. “Shay, please turn the lights on.”

  The Wiccans scattered. A few tended to Cassandra while others made sure the doors and windows were locked. A couple of the women gathered the candles, utensils, incense, and recorder.

  Denny stood and watched, her ire slowly melting away.

  Brianna knelt in front of Cassandra and took Cassandra’s hands in hers. “Cassandra, come back to us.” She nodded for more smelling salts.

  “I’m fine. Fine.” Cassandra sipped some water before she turned to Denny.

  “Are you—” Denny started to ask.

  “I’m fine. Really. It is not the first time a spirit has possessed me. I’ve forgotten how uncomfortable that feels.” Cassandra turned to Brianna. “Clear the room, please. Everyone leave but Golden.”

  “But—”

  “Do not question me, Brianna. Clear the room. We won’t be long.”

  Brianna nodded and ushered the women out of the dining room.

  Cassandra scooted her chair closer to Denny before sipping some water. “Well then. That was rather unpleasant. Whatever you have, whatever you are, they are very, very afraid of you.”

  “They? Who are they?”

  “The spirits who have taken Rush. It...he...” she shook her head. “I have done this dozens of times. Never have I felt such abject fear as just now. Those spirits...they are more than spirits, Golden Silver, and they fear you. Very much.”

  “You said the word Hanta. What does that mean? What the hell is a Hanta?”

  Cassandra shrugged. “I have no idea, but whatever it means, it scares them. A lot. There is
nothing more we can do here tonight. They are too fearful. They shall not return this night. I fear, if you do not act quickly, she may not return at all.”

  Denny nodded and helped Cassandra to her feet. “Did you see her though? I mean, is she..okay?”

  “I’m sorry I could not reach Rushalyn. They were too strong...but I did feel her there.”

  Denny’s stomach dropped. “And?”

  “And she’s scared. Too frightened for a ghost.”

  “She’s scared? I…I don’t understand.”

  “It is quite possible that she does not fear for herself but for—”

  “It’s strange to hear that a spirit can be afraid.”

  Cassandra cocked her head. “You misunderstand me, Golden Silver. Rushalyn Holbrook isn’t scared for herself. She’s afraid for you.”

  “For me? Why? Did she say why? Do you know why?”

  Cassandra pinched the bridge of her nose. “Golden, she is afraid for you because those spirits who came through weren’t just spirits.”

  “No?” Denny was afraid to ask. “What…what were they?”

  Cassandra turned slowly. “Demons, Golden. They were demons.”

  ****

  “You’ve made her mad now, Boris,” Rush said from behind the bars that enclosed her. “And, trust me, pissing her off is a bad, bad idea.”

  “Shut up.”

  Rush laughed. “Or what? You’ll kill me? Send me to my forever room? Look, you got what you wanted. She’s in the game. Now go see who’s the better hunter. I already know who, and she’s going to blow your sorry ass to smithereens. Turn out the lights, the party’s over.”

  The demon cracked his knuckles and spit at her feet. “Shut up. And stop calling me Boris.”

  Rush shook her head. “She blew up one of your lesser buddies in the cemetery without even breaking a sweat. She’s going to come for me, and when she does—”

  “Shut your pie hole for one minute. She’s a rookie, a virgin in the realm of demons. She got lucky in the cemetery with those buffoons. The next time, she will be destroyed—“ he snapped his fingers, “like that.”