Blood of the Demon (The Silver Legacy Book 3) (22 page)

“Of course not,” Annalee said. “And we understand that much, but removing a Dybbuk is tricky work. What is your plan if Golden Silver and I can bring them back?”

“A Vodouisant exorcism. Demon hunters are not the only ones who can extract evil.”

“Maybe not, but a Dybukk requires special care. Without knowing what you’re doing, you might exorcize them only to have them leap into another being.”

“As I told Farquar, I am not well versed in this world you traverse. Perhaps it is Enobaria you should speak with. Maybe she can assist. She is a most invincible Mambo Priestess...when she is sober.”

“Oh great. You’re sending us to a drunken High Priestess whack job?”

“Enobaria may be able to share with you what she told Farquar, or she might even possess the rift opening ritual herself. That’s the best start for us. When we know better what the ritual was intended to be, I can use my power to help close it.”

Denny nodded. “Then I’ll need to draw the demons from your boys, but we’ll have to keep them from the rift. That could be tricky. Closing it will not exorcise the demons from the boys.”

Hélène sighed heavily. “No, it won’t.
That
is a job for you hunters. Would you do it?” Hélène’s voice was pleading. Her eyes softened. “One of those young boys is my son.”

Annalee and Denny looked at each other, then Annalee spoke. “Yes, ma’am. We will do it. You help get that closed and we will extract those Dybbuks from your people.”

“One more thing.” Denny said. “And this isn’t up for negotiation. I want whoever killed Louis handed over to me.”

“It wasn’t my boys,” Hélène said softly. “I know it. I’ll find the one who did such a vile act and see to it you have access to them.”

“That’s the other piece of this strange puzzle, Hélène.
Someone
wanted me to come here and kill you all. Who would want that? Who would want us to come here filled with blood lust vengeance?”

“I...I do not yet know, but rest assured, when I do find out, I will handle their consequences myself. You have my word.”

Denny shook her head. “Unless that consequence involves cutting someone’s head off and shoving it up their ass, I’d rather you left it up to me. Louis did not deserve to die like that.”

Everyone looked at Denny.

“What? Don’t be surprised. Louis’s only crime was that he chose to assist me and that decision cost him his life. That act won’t go unpunished. In many ways, Peyton and I are nothing alike, but is some, we are on the exact same page––the eye for an eye page.”

“Easy, Golden. It will be taken care of one way or the other. We can’t lose focus. We
must
get to Enobaria’s swamp first and see what in the hell she told Farquar and find out what she knows about the boys.”

Hélène slowly shook her head. “It will not be that simple. Enobaria has traps all over the swamp—Voodoo and otherwise. My people never go out that far. They seldom come back if they try.”

“Far? Jesus.
This
is far.”

“There’s far and then there’s
far
. It is all relative.”

“Won’t this gargantuan tattoo get me through the swamp?”

“It will keep you safe, yes, but it is no guarantee in the dark corners of the bayou, and Enobaria lives in the shadows of the darkness. You will be on your own in an environment as dangerous as any gang land ghetto and far more foreign.”

Denny rose. “Then away we go ladies.”

Everyone rose.

Denny looked over at Annalee. “Say it and I swear to God, I’ll hit you over the head.”

“You must keep your wits about you, Hunter. Now is not the time for you to lose control of your demon.”

Iris slid her hand into Denny’s. “That’s what she has me for.”

Hélène smiled. “She is very lucky to have you, little witch.” Hélène escorted them to the boat. “You can take three of my boys.”

“I’d rather not. I don’t want to put anyone else in danger. I just need a good boatman.”

Hélène nodded. “I appreciate your concern. My boatman can get you as far as Big Foot Bend. After that, you’re on your own. I strongly suggest waiting until the sun rises so you can see what you are doing. Even the best boatman can get lost here at night.”

Annalee turned back to Hélène. “When you say
traps
, what exactly do you mean?”

Forty-three minutes later, Annalee got her first taste of that answer.

***

H
ad Iris not thrown her hands up in time, the seven bamboo spears would have hit their mark. As it was, she deflected them enough so they embedded in a tree next to Annalee.

“Jesus H, that was close! Nice work, Iris. You really are worth your weight in jelly beans.”

“Thanks, Anna. I almost missed it. Damn good thing we waited until the sun was completely up or we’d be toast.”

“This place gives me the creeps,” Annalee whispered. “It’s like a living labyrinth. A branch is suddenly a snake, a rock a turtle. Enobaria is really good at keeping people off balance. My demon is not at all comfortable with this place.”

Iris nodded. “There is a lot of Voodoo magic in this swamp. A lot. Can you two feel it?”

They both nodded.

“She is using all kinds of different magics to protect this area of the swamp. Do not trust your sight, for what you see may not even be there.”

“She don’ trus’ no one,” the boatman said softly. “Rightly so. Afta Katrina done roll trew here and we git no hep from da gov’ment, lotta folks done moved fuh-thuh out.”

“I don’t see how anyone can live out here,” Annalee said. “No electricity. No clean running water. Super spooky. No thanks.”

After nearly an hour in the boat, they pulled up to a moss-encrusted shoreline.

“Dis is da end of da line for me. I wait here ’til dusk and den I mus’ go back. You not back by den, you fine yer own ways back.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’ tank me. I done bring ya to yer death.”

“Jolly fellow,” Annalee muttered as they got out of the boat.

Denny knelt down and studied the ground. She could feel the Voodoo energy. The magic was intense. Her Hanta felt it too, and it wasn’t at all happy about it. “We’re close.”

Iris nodded. “Indeed.”

Denny looked at the ground again. There were three hoof marks filled with swamp water...which began shaking as Denny studied it. “Something big is coming our way.” Rising, Denny pulled out Epée, happy to have her weapon back in her care.

Iris backed up against Denny. “I don’t think that’s gonna work against what’s coming.”

Annalee looked at them both. “Should we run?”

Iris and Denny shook their heads. “To where?”

“Too late for that.”

Suddenly, three enormous Rottweilers bore down on them, their teeth gleaming, their snarling growls filling the air.

“Oh shit,” Iris said. “These are for real!”

Annalee reached into her vest and pulled out a Sig Sauer sidearm, drew down and calmly shot all three dogs dead.

Iris and Denny stared at her.

“What? Sometimes you just need a fucking gun.”

Denny stared.

“You need to get yourself a non-magical weapon, Silver. Believe me, they come in handy.”

“I can see that.”

Suddenly four trees came to life and the three women found themselves surrounded by four men who seemingly peeled themselves out of the bark.

“Iris?”

“Real, I think.”

“Put da goon down.”

Annalee frowned. “The what?”

“The gun,” Iris said out of the side of her mouth. “Put. It. Away.”

“You sure?”

When the tree bark boys produced rifles, Iris nodded. “Pretty sure, yeah.”

Denny held her hands up in surrender. “We are looking for Enobaria and—”

The four young men looked at her face and then chattered among themselves before the tallest young man said, “She be ’spectin’ you miss. Sit in da boat an’ wait here.”

Denny looked around. “Umm, I don’t see a boat.”

The young Haitian waved his hand through the air and as the mist cleared, a boat was revealed.

“Don’ kip her waitin’.”

Three of the men stepped in front of them as they made their way to the boat.

“Not you. De Mistress wan ownee dat one.” He pointed to Denny.

Iris shook her head. “Oh, hell no, DH. Not a chance.”

“I gotta agree with Iris, Golden. Not a good idea.”

“We don’t have much of a choice. We need to know what the fuck happened out here. I’ll be fine, really. After all...I’ve got this.” Denny pointed to her tattoo.

Annalee pulled Denny to her and hugged her, slipping the Sig into Denny’s waistband. “Stay safe. Your witch...well...she’s scary when she thinks you’re in danger.”

Denny covered up the gun. “Take care of her. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

As Denny headed for the boat, Iris mumbled a few words in Latin. “DH?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t make us come after you. It won’t be pretty.”

Ten minutes later, Denny arrived at the cinderblock house with two rocking chairs on the dilapidated porch. Spanish moss hung like living drapes on the trees around the house, occasionally swaying in the breeze. The smell of brackish water mixed with the scent of a flower she could not name.

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.”