Blood of the Demon (The Silver Legacy Book 3) (11 page)

“So I send it to an animal and then kill it? How does that kill the demon?”

“You have to kill the host before it has a chance to root. Immediately, otherwise, you’ll have to start over.”

“Got it. Thank you.”

“Goldy? Be careful. Remember what I said about confiding in the right people. Be smart.”

“I’m not alone. I have witches, witches everywhere and not a broom to ride. As soon as I find Peyton, I’ll come home. Thanks for hooking me up with Mr. Devereaux. He’s an odd duck, but who isn’t, you know?”

Denny and Ames said their goodbyes, and she finished her round of the Garden District before grabbing dinner and returning to her hotel, where she prepared for her 10:00 meeting with Louis.

“Okay Louis...show me what you got.”

***

T
he streets of New Orleans were always busy and rowdy; a party atmosphere ninety-nine percent of the time. Tourists walked down the streets of the French Quarter sipping Hurricanes and gnoshing on po’ boys while stopping to listen to whatever music tickled their fancy.

Nobody seemed to notice the woman in the leather vest with her hands jammed in her pockets as she pretended to people watch. She was watching, all right, but not for people.

Louis surprised her by being on time. He continued to surprise her by saying nothing when she approached him, and just walking away.

Denny followed as he moved invisibly through the darkened streets toward the outskirts of the center of town. He never said a word, never slowed down, but just kept walking with his head down.

He was scared. She could feel it as surely as if he had told her.

Denny kept her hand inside her vest pocket on Epée’s cylinder.

They walked another 13 blocks before he stopped in front of a rundown shotgun house that had been redesigned to incorporate two houses on other side of it.

“Here?” She asked, a bit taken aback by the close proximity to town. She had expected the bayou or farther out in one of the hurricane-ridden neighborhoods that had yet to be helped by a government that so quickly forgot its poor.

He nodded.

Denny dug into her pocket and pulled out a hundred. “Thank you for this.”

Louis looked at the money and then back up at Denny. “Save your money, ma’am, ’til after you see what you find in there. I don’t wanna get paid for sendin’ such a pretty gal to her death. You live, find me later.” He backed away. “Can you feel it?”

She could.

There was some sort of energy surrounding the house. It was subtle and she wondered how Louis was able to feel it, but it was there.

Then she understood. It wasn’t just energy. It was magic.

Witch magic.

“Can I ask you one question?”

“Sure, ma’am.”

“You wear that military jacket. Were you? In the military?”

Louis nodded. “Gulf War.” He chuckled. “Not that anyone remembers that one. Came home to nuthin’. Decided nuthin’ was better’n busted dreams.”

“I’m so sorry, Louis.”

He shrugged. “Ma’am, I live in the best city in the world. I got no complaints, ’cept right now, I gotsta go. I fought too hard to live. Ain’t gonna die at the hands of magic. Uh-uh. I wish ya the best.”

“I’ll find you,” she said, meaning it.

With that, he shuffled off into the eagerly awaiting shadows.

Denny looked up and down the street. These houses were an easy in, easy out arrangement, as was the way with shotgun houses. She could see why Peyton had chosen this house: exit plans.

But where was the magic coming from? Peyton never mentioned, not once, having a witch, but this was definitely witch energy.

Denny approached the walkway to the front door, the energy collecting and building as she neared, almost as if in response to her being there.

Closing her eyes, she woke the Hanta up. “Okay, dude, it’s show time.”

While she respected witch energy, the Hanta did not, so she withdrew Epée and actually cleaved through the energy on her way to the front door.

Three steps in, she stopped.

Back door was a smarter option.

Heading to the back was like walking against powerful winds, as the magic tried to close in around her.

She was sure this energy had the power to stop a normal human, but Denny was anything but normal, and the more the energy pushed against her, the harder the Hanta pushed back.

Like Denny, it didn’t like being dictated to.

When she got to the back door, a motion sensor floodlight came on, illuminating the entire area around her.

Without hesitating, Denny kicked the door in and promptly found herself flying back outside, where she landed on her back with a loud thud about ten feet away.

She was on her feet in a second, Epée raised, Hanta focused in, power flowing to her limbs.

Then she froze.

Out of the darkness of the house came none other than Valeria, hands raised in preparation for a second attack.

The two women stared at each other.

Valeria stood before her, wearing a cloak, her long blond hair plaited down her back.

“Golden Silver, what
on earth
are you doing here? I know what you are doing in New Orleans, but how did you find her
here
? Find us?”

Denny brushed herself off and sheathed Epée. “I came to check on Peyton, but nobody in this accursed town would tell me where she might be, so I did my own digging and...here I am. What are
you
doing here?”

Valeria motioned for Denny to come into the house. “Come. It is not safe out here.”

When she did, Valeria turned to the back door and waved her hand at it. “It will need to be fixed immediately. There are forces...” she shook her head. “It is simply not safe for Peyton, nor is it safe for you to be here.”

“I...I had no—”

“Of course you didn’t.” Valeria pulled a phone from her robe and pressed it. “I’ve had an intruder and need the back door repaired right away. No, it’s fine. I...took care of it. Send someone immediately. Thank you.” Hanging up, she returned her deep blue, almost lavender, eyes to Denny. “Then you did not follow me here?”

“Follow you? Hell, I had no idea you were even in the state. Not for lack of trying. I’ve been asking everyone about you trying to get someone,
anyone
to tell me where you were, but no one knew. I have so many questions for you.”

Valeria held her hand up. “I understand, but now is not the time. Peyton is...” Valeria shook her head. “It is such a long story.”

“I came here to see if Peyton is okay. Is he? She. Sorry. I just discovered she’s a she.
That
was quite a shocker.” Denny pinched the bridge of her nose. “I apologize. This is...so unexpected.”

Valeria continued through the small kitchen and into a front room—modestly decorated but too dark to see much color, the shades being completely drawn. “Indeed it is for the both of us. I usually feel your energy before I see you. I must be overly tired. Please sit. I need to make sure your energy has not disrupted my security measures.”

Denny sat on a loveseat of soft leather and waited. The Hanta calmer now, she retuned Epée’s cylinder to her vest. A million questions pin-balled around in her brain, but none made the journey to her mouth. Cocking her head to one side, Denny listened. It was deathly quiet—preternaturally so. What other spells was Valeria using to keep Peyton safe?

As if she’d heard Denny’s most innermost thoughts, Valeria answered. “Believe me, Golden, there are many. It’s taken all of my powers to keep Peyton safe and alive.”

Denny rose. “So she
is
in trouble.”

“To put it mildly, yes. She lost a battle to a higher-level demon who exacted its pound of flesh and more. It nearly destroyed her. She is resting quietly for now, but for how much longer, I do not know.”

“For now? Valeria, what in the hell is going on here?”

Valeria sat across from Denny on the matching sofa. They remained in semi-darkness as Valeria arranged her robe around her. “Peyton is hanging on. She suffered contusions, abrasions, lacerations, a concussion, and some broken bones. Without witch magic, I’m certain we would have lost her.”

“Jesus, what got her?”

“A higher level Dybbuk. It seems they are waging some sort of war here and they targeted Peyton first.”

“They?”

“The Dybbuks.”

Denny moved to the edge of her seat. “Plural? There’s more than one in New Orleans?”

“How long have you been here?”

“Two days.”

“Of course. I’ve felt so much demonic energy it is no wonder yours was missed. I have not left the house in nearly five days, which is far longer than it should have been, but she is in no condition to be moved.”

“Oh my God, she’s that bad?”

“I’ve not seen a hunter take such a beating and survive. I cannot even believe they didn’t just kill her straight away. There are just so many.”

“No kidding. I’ve been a killing machine since I got here.”

“So you’ve seen—”

“The influx of demons? Oh hell yes. Yes I have. I didn’t realized there were other Dybbuks, though. I’d only heard of the one.”

Valeria leaned forward. “Other? Then you’ve come in contact with one?”

“There is one poking around. Look, Valeria I don’t know what’s going on here, but I’d really like to see Peyton myself. Making sure she is okay is the only reason I came to New Orleans. Now...you find that you are somehow involved––”

“You’re angry.”

“Damn right I’m angry. In Savannah, I look all over for you, I ask for help and I get nothing. Zip. Zilch. Zero. Nada. The big, fat goose egg. Then I come here, wishing to help Peyton, and I receive the same warm and fuzzy welcome. Now I find you here and you tell me that the questions I need answers to have to wait until whatever the hell this is blows over, so excuse me if I’m a bit edgy.”

Valeria studied Denny a moment. “While I do understand your desire for answers from me, right now, it is Peyton’s health and wellbeing that is on the line. Can we agree to table your questions about your mother for the time-being and keep our focus on the present?”

Denny nodded. The Hanta was pissed as well. “It’s not like I have a choice.” Rising, she waited. “But I’m going to see Peyton right now even if I have to tear this whole house down.”

Valeria rose and stood in front of Denny. As tall as Denny was, Valeria was slightly taller and held herself with regal bearing. “You are so like your mother in so many ways, rushing headlong into the fray without a care for your own safety, without knowing just what it is you are up against.”

“Can we also agree not to talk about
her
right now? That’s all I keep hearing is how much like her I am and it adds more salt to my wounds.”

“It was intended as a compliment, Golden. Your mother was a first-rate hunter.” Valeria smiled lightly. “But, yes, I can agree to not talk about her. Just know, we will have the talk you wish to have and I will avail myself to you for the answers.”

“Thank you. Now, Peyton?”

Valeria headed towards the stairs. “Stay close to me. Nothing in the house is as it seems.”

Denny got right up behind her, and as they mounted the stairs, they were suddenly walking down and not up.

“Whoa. What the fuck?”

“The house is enchanted. It is a safe house of sorts. Not only is nothing as it seems, the house is a maze filled with deadly dead ends. Are you wearing your triquetra?”

Denny grabbed her demon necklace. “Never take it off.”

“Good. The triquetra is the key to seeing through the enchantments in order to navigate the house. There is far more to the necklace than you might realize.”

The triquetra was the key to turning the cylinders on that housed her weapons. She had put it on when all of this demon possession went down and never took it off.

Denny realized they were, in fact, walking up the stairs again. She released the necklace so her hands would be free if needed.

At the top of the stairwell, Valeria went right through a wall where several family photos hung. Denny grabbed the Celtic necklace once more and she, too, walked through the wall.

All totaled, the maze had several barking Rottweilers, three false walls, two locked doors and at least five trap doors. There may have been more, so Denny decided to keep hold of her triquetra.

Just in case.

“I had no idea the triquetra had such power,” she whispered.

“Oh, my dear, there is much you need to know about the necklace and the power it contains.”

“Yet one more thing on my growing list to learn about.”

Valeria came to a pair of doors. “One shoots you back to the street, the other takes you to Peyton. Hold your triquetra tightly.

Denny did.

Nothing.

“Touch the knob.”

When Denny touched the knob with her free hand, it felt cool to the touch.

“The cooler ones always eject you. The warm ones will be the doors through which you can go.”

“So, once I get this far in the house, it’s a fifty-fifty chance I’d get to Peyton.”

Valeria opened the door. “Enchanted, Golden. Even as we speak the house is resetting itself to a completely different configuration, which it does every time someone makes it to this point. Please follow, but keep your voice down. I wish not to wake her. She needs all the rest she can get.”

Denny followed Valeria into a windowless closet of a room no bigger than a dorm room. Lying in a double bed was a woman with a boyish haircut that looked like a blind hairdresser had cut it. Her bangs were all catawampus and the sides were slightly uneven. Her face was bruised and swollen; a cut above her eye held together by butterfly bandages. Her nose was swollen as if recently broken and her chin had several lacerations.

“Jesus...”

Valeria walked over to the bed and laid her hand on Peyton’s forehead. “She took quite a beating. It’s amazing she is alive at all.”

An IV was feeding Peyton from a stand, and the nightstand held gauze, tape and several bottle of pills Denny surmised were painkillers.

“I found her on the floor just outside her lair several days ago. She was smart enough not to pass out in there or I doubt I could have gotten to her in time. Even so, I was almost too late.”