“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.”
“You’re not kidding. There really isn’t a choice anymore.”
Ames shook his head. “Not really, no. Not if you want to keep your loved ones safe. 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, Goldy. 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. The 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 any more. It’s time to take that leap of faith.”
Ames’s cool blue eyes studied her a moment. “Are you sure? 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, then 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 when she saw Denny’s face. 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 interested. 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 my filters let that leak.”
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 w
ith 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.
****
Denny’s Journal
That night, I laid in bed willing my mind to stop spinning—to give it a rest and let me sleep. Usually when I am awake and restless, Rush would come to me. When I was younger, she would sit on the edge of my bed and sing to me. That would put me right to sleep. It was some lullaby her mother had sung to her. As I got older, she would tell me stories—stories about Savannah in the seventies, what life had been like for her as a little girl. Sometimes, she’d tell me stories she made up. Those were my favorite.
God, I missed her.
She would have helped me sort through all of this demonology shit. I could picture her perched up on the roll-top hutch while I flipped through the Black Book. She could tell me what to read, what not to read, and what a boob I’d been for no—
I sat up.
Wait.
Oh my god. Had Rush known the demon was in me? Had she been present when my mother had made that decision, that it was going to be me? How much did Rush know about all of this? Is that why she was being held hostage? Or did they simply snatch her in order to bring the Hanta out of me? How much did Rush know and had that knowledge put her in harm’s way?
This kind of thinking was crazy and it did neither Rush or me any good, but I couldn’t slow my brain down.
I lay back down and closed my eyes. I went over all the lessons Ames Walker had taught me. He was an astute mentor who knew when to push and when to let go. I was surprised when he started by teaching me how to wield Epee and Fouet so early on. I was certain he was going to teach me that last.
“I can’t have you cutting an ear off,” he said, showing me how to snap my 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.”
I’d gotten pretty good at it after about an hour and a case of carpal tunnel pain. I only nicked myself five times, but Ames said that was not bad, considering I knew nothing about the weapon.
All five nicks were fully healed by the end of the night, compliments of the Hanta living inside me. Ames said that fast healing was one of the Hanta’s “gifts,” but that it also meant demons healed just as quickly. That was why the weapons were needed. A demon needed to implode to no longer be a threat. The implosion forced it out of the body so the Hanta could consume the spirit.
Yeah, I’d been there and done that, and it wasn’t pretty.
After we spent about four hours with the weapons, he showed me some basic and rudimentary defense moves he said I would not need if the Hanta stepped in. Ames explained that the Hanta never really possessed the body, only cohabited with the owner in a shared existence. Its job was to protect the hunter so the hunter 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 if it was to live.
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 you if engaged, and few of them will allow someone who knows they are demons to walk away. In the Hanta’s eyes, everyone was an enemy until proven otherwise.
When I was physically spent, Ames fed me while he lectured me on Demonology 101. It amazed me to learn how many demons roamed our cities. They were more prevalent than ghosts and they feared, more than anyone else, the demon hunter—more specifically, the Legacy hunter.
“Legacy hunters have more power because they have the Hanta. 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 expected to win.
Ames rattled off more information than my exhausted brain could take in, but I gave it my best shot. Knowing I was a rookie, the demons of Savannah had decided to go after me before I could go after them, so this training was vital to my success and my life.
They didn’t realize who all was on Team Silver.
The thought made me smile.
Still wide awake, questions banged around in my head—questions I knew would be answered once I took the time necessary to read through the list of books Ames had given me to read. He had been so patient, even when Fouet jumped back and bit my arm. He was patient when I had to have him repeat directions more than once, and he’d grinned when I asked him questions about my mother. The time flew, and before I knew it, it was time for him to go to his daytime job.
Ames.
Now there was an odd duck. He was a gifted instructor who seldom smiled or laughed—though he always did whenever speaking about my mother. He was intense, serious, and ferociously private. He did not answer one question I asked about his own hunting abilities, so I didn’t even try to ask about his personal life.
Still, as odd as he was, he had the patience of Job with me. He would let me try things my way before insisting I do it his way. His way was almost always better.
I liked Ames Walker and his underground training arena.
I wished I could let all these questions go—questions about my mom that would forever be unanswered—questions about my family, my legacy—all those questions Ames Walker couldn’t, or wouldn’t, answer. I wasn’t sure he would, even if he could.
But there was one lingering question I could not dismiss. I couldn’t help but wonder...when had my mother made the exchange from her to me?
And why me?
Why me?
As my eyelids finally got heavy and it felt like I was going to finally doze off, I thought about those days after the car accident...days when it didn’t look like my mom was going to make—
My eyes suddenly popped open and I was wide awake again, the answer hovering before my mind’s eye.
I knew when it happened. I knew exactly when the exchange took place.
I was standing next to her bed right after the accident holding her hand. The others had gone to eat, but I’d refused to leave her. It didn’t feel right, somehow. I guess I thought if she felt left 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 I thought maybe she was coming out of the coma. She’d squeezed so hard one moment, then coded the next, never letting go of my hand. I thought it was just a reaction from the seizure, so I thought nothing of it.
When one of the nurses rushed me out of the room, I felt dizzy and disoriented, and I’d figured it had been because of the stress when Mom coded, when she nearly died.
Nearly dying.
The Hanta Raya, thinking she was a goner, had leapt from her to me all those years ago, where it had been hanging out waiting to be fed, waiting for me to understand the legacy, protecting me when I was in harm’s way. Waiting for the time when that switch had been pulled and it could come to life.
That time had come. The switch has been flicked. The Hanta was now awake and ravenous.
The memories flooded me now, like lost pieces of a puzzle I’d started six years before
when I was fifteen, when she had left us for good.
So much of my teenage years suddenly made sense to me.
The first time the Hanta woke up was when I was still in high school and hanging out with my friends. We’d been messing around in an old barn when a huge piece of equipment fell on Lauren, pinning her to the ground. I was scared to death it would crush the life out of her before I could get help. I managed to lift the machine high enough for her to crawl out from under it. She had nothing more than a scratch.
We’d chalked it up to adrenaline and never spoke of it again.
Then there was the time Victor was being harassed by a bunch of homophobes who were throwing rocks at him. One hit me in the eye, and I started whipping on those rat turds like there was no tomorrow. That must have been the Hanta. I kicked the shit out of three of the guys before the others took off. I was like a dervish, all arms and legs, hitting whatever I could.
Victor, quite aptly enough, said I looked possessed.
There were a couple of other times, and each time I had some lame explanation. I didn’t feel the Hanta like I did now, but teen angst feels a lot like the beginnings of the Hanta anger.
I’d had the Hanta Raya since I was fifteen and so I 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 my hand.
The first two books did not yield the information I was looking for, but the third did.
Among the positive attributes the Hanta Raya endows the host with 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.
I read that passage over and over. That was how I could make love to Rush and feel it as if it were really happening. It wasn’t Rush at all.
It was me.
I bookmarked the page and set the book on the desk, too tired to read anymore without frying my brains. I needed to sleep because when I woke up, I was going to get the answers I needed.
Demon Hunter Page 22
