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

Denny tried without success to lift her arms. “You know how jacked up this is, right?”

Cassandra sat on the edge of the bed and ran her fingers down Denny’s chest and stomach. “Oh, the things I could do to you.”

Denny felt the Hanta stir. It did not appreciate this little trick in the slightest, and Denny wondered if, when alive, the Hanta had been claustrophobic. “Cass...I’m not so sure this is such a good idea.”

“Why? Because your demon is becoming angry?” She lightly traced Denny’s eyebrow with her fingertips. “We wouldn’t want that, now would we? I’ve seen just how much fun your angry demon can be.” Leaning down, Cassandra took Denny’s earlobe in her mouth and sucked it. “Mmm. You are so yummy.”

The Hanta was fully aware now, unhappy to be held prisoner by the likes of these witches, and angry at being tricked. “Cass— ” Denny’s voice dropped an octave––a sure sign that the Hanta Raya was awake and pissed off.

“Go ahead, Hunter. Let the demon free. Let us see if he is powerful enough to break the spell cast by a more powerful witch.”

Denny fought the Hanta for a brief moment before she understood, at least, what was going on. “Damn you, Cassandra, I really
am
a guinea pig. Iris wasn’t kidding.”

A grin toyed at the corners of Cassandra’s mouth. “We needed to see if the spell was strong enough to contain a Hanta. Given your altered state and inability to fight it off, I would say it’s successful.” She leaned down once more, her moist red lips inches from Denny’s ear. “Or is your demon just too weak?”

The Hanta raged and roared, fighting to come to the surface, to take over the rest of Denny’s being. “Cass...don’t...” Denny felt the Hanta’s rage. “God damn it, witch.” There was the Hanta’s voice, its words, its anger. “I’ll not be played with by the likes of you.”

Slowly backing away, Cassandra kept her eyes on Denny’s. “Red becomes you, demon. Can you still not free this body of our spell? Are you so weak you cannot break a simple binding potion?”

Denny released the demon completely, and the Hanta struggled to make Denny’s arms move. “Cursed witch! You ought to pray to your feeble Goddesses I don’t get free or I would render you—”

“Limb from limb? Helpless? Render me what, demon?” Cassandra leaned back in. “Be lucky I do not find another hunter to excise you from my lover, Hanta Raya. You are not in charge here.
I
am the one holding all the cards, and you would do well to remember that.”

Denny laughed a sound of gravel and whiskey. She had lost the last bits of control over the demon. “The only cards you hold, Witch, are the ones you use in the bedroom. Who do you think was fucking you all those times? Golden Silver.” He chuffed. “Hardly.”

Cassandra slowly pulled away and looked into Denny’s eyes. “Oh, demon, do not take credit where there is none. A woman knows when she is being fucked by another woman. Be gone. You tried and failed to break the binding potion. Run along and let me have my lover back.”

Denny closed her eyes and sighed. “Well
that
sucked.”

“All better now?” Cassandra murmured, once again touching Denny’s face.

“I think I pulled a spiritual muscle. Boy, did you piss him off.”

Turning from Denny, Cassandra called for Iris, who appeared ten seconds later. “That’s a job well done novice. I am impressed, and that is a rare feat. Stay with Denny while I make sure the recipe is correct and placed in the Book.”

When she was gone, Iris sat on the edge of the bed. “Are you mad at me?”

“No, of course not. I always get blindsided by witches who trick me into eating their poison apples that paralyze me and piss off my demon.”

Iris frowned. “Then you
are
mad?”

Denny’s toes tingled. Some of the feeling was coming back. “Mad isn’t the right word. Iris, have you any idea about the unpredictability of the Hanta Raya demon? Any idea just how badly this could have gone?”

“Well, I
have
been studying up on them, and I know yours is eight hundred years old, very powerful, and somewhat...um...human-ish.”

More feeling returned to her toes. “Right. Its age means my demon is very, very powerful, and if he could have gotten our hands around Cassandra’s neck, this could have slid sideways before anyone could stop it. Next time, give me a heads-up, okay?”

Iris nodded. “I’m sorry. It’s just...Cassandra said—”

“Cassandra says that will be all, Iris. Clean the kitchen up and meet me and Giselle in the parlor afterward.” Cassandra held the door open and watched Iris head back to the kitchen. “She cares about you. Perhaps more than she ought.”

Denny wiggled her fingers and toes. “Is that why she poisoned me?”

Cassandra laughed. “Don’t be silly. No poison was involved. It was a binding potion, which is different from a binding spell but has nearly the same results.” Cassandra leaned in. “I see you’re regaining feeling.” Helping Denny sit up, Cassandra brushed at stray hair from Denny’s forehead. “I apologize. But I believe had I told you, your demon would have taken issue.”

“And you’re probably correct. I think it’s claustrophobic.”

“Well, I needed to see the strength of her binding potions on someone strong and unsuspecting. That would be you.”

“So you
did
summon me.”

Cassandra smiled. “Actually, I did not. So...to what do I owe this pleasure?”

Denny flexed her hands. Paralysis was a creepy ass feeling. “I was hoping you could tell me where Valeria is. It’s time.”

Cassandra’s eyebrow shot up. “Valeria? Why now?”

“I was re-reading my mom’s journals and it seems Valeria’s name appears here and there, but there isn’t anything significant. I was just wondering—”

“If Valeria was your mother’s witch?”

Denny flexed her hand and then her whole arm. “Oh, I am pretty certain she was, but again, no one will confirm or deny. Actually I was wondering if she had any insight as to what went on the days before Mom and Dad were run off the road.” Slowly pushing her legs over the side of the bed, Denny carefully stood up. “Whatever that potion is, it kicked my ass. I hope you give her an A-plus.”

Cassandra grinned. “You’d need to speak with Valeria, herself, but I wouldn’t hold out much hope. Witches seldom reveal anything about their hunters, and Valeria, as you know, answers to no one.” Cassandra wrapped her arms around Denny’s neck and hugged her tightly. “Speaking of which...when will
you
choose
your
witch?”

Gently pulling away, Denny shrugged. “I can barely contain my demon, Cass. I’m far too green to throw a witch into the mix.” Just as Denny finished, Brianna walked through the door and quickly up the stairs, but not before Denny spotted four scratch marks on her neck.

The Hanta leapt to life and Denny felt the familiar heat flow thickly through her veins.

Sensing the change in Denny, Cassandra grabbed Denny’s arm before she could go after Brianna. “Let it go. It is not your concern.”

“Are you crazy? Of course it’s my concern! That shit is stopping
today
.”

“You cannot make a woman see abuse she is unwilling to see for herself. You think we haven’t all tried to get her to see what a bitch her girlfriend is? Do you think for one second––”

“Let. Go.” Denny growled, pulling her arm free.

“Hunter, if you respect your friendship with Bria––”

But Denny had already turned away. “Brianna?”

Brianna stopped at the top of the stairs and looked down. “It’s nothing and yes, it’s over. I handled it. What’s done is done.” Then she disappeared into her bedroom.

“You heard her,” Cassandra said from behind. “Let it be, Hunter. Bri has asked the coven to let her handle it and we have respected her wishes. You need to as well.”

“That’s what Rush said.”

“Your ghost may not have two brain cells to rub together, but in this, she is spot on.”

Denny hesitated a moment before starting for the front door. “I understand, but you see, there’s one problem. She asked
you
to leave it be. She didn’t ask
me
.”

“Hunter, don’t be a fool.”

But Denny wasn’t listening any longer. The Hanta’s growls were roaring in her ears.

***

“H
i Mom,” Denny said, kneeling in front of her.

Gwen Silver was sitting in front of a huge picture window as she always did this time of day, her tall, statuesque frame somehow diminished by the metal wheelchair she lived in.

Princess, her attendant, had dressed her in a pretty red and orange sundress, yellow Crocs, and plastic sunglasses.

Looking up at the Filipina nurse, Denny whispered, “I got it for now, Princess, thank you.”

Princess nodded. “I get coffee.”

“I’d like that, thank you.”

Princess leaned down and locked the wheels before leaving Gwen and Denny alone in front of the window overlooking the greenbelt that ran through the rest home. The roses were in full bloom and the apricot and yellow blossoms looked like miniature suns. It was always so pretty there in the early summer.

Taking Gwen’s hands, Denny smiled. “Okay Mom, I’ve re-read your journal and can’t help but wonder if Valeria was your witch...if she was the reason you chose Savannah.”

Denny waited for a response she knew would never come from her catatonic mother, so she continued.

“She’s...special, I know, I just...I can’t seem to pin her down. I might need her but she’s kind of disappeared. You know how those witches keep their cards close to their chest. They’ve closed ranks around her. Protecting her from the big, bad hunter and all.”

“You always talk to her like that?”

Denny turned around to find Ames Walker standing at the door, looking dapper in a blue collared shirt, khaki pants and navy blue loafers. His salt-and-pepper hair was combed back neatly, making his grey sideburns look almost white.

Ames was Denny’s trainer in all things demonic. He had been a friend of Gwen’s from way back and was her unofficial trainer.

Rising, Denny tilted her head at him. “I didn’t know you visited on Thursdays.”

“I don’t. Wednesdays are usually when I come, but a little bird told me you were looking for Valeria, so I came by to see if you needed my assistance.” Ames walked over and kissed Gwen’s forehead. “You look as beautiful as ever, sweet one. Has your kid been boring you to tears with stories about hunting demons?”

“Hey!”

Ames grinned a flawless grin. “I’ll take that as a yes. Come. Sit.”

Denny and Ames sat on two Victorian wingback chairs that had seen better days.

“You still don’t understand the nature of witches, Goldy. Yes, they close ranks to protect each other, even from demon hunters, but it’s much more than that.”

“I see that. It’s just—”

He held up a manicured hand. “I don’t believe you do. You think Valeria doesn’t
know
you’re trying to locate her? If that woman wanted to talk to you, she would. She obviously doesn’t, so leave her be. Cornering a witch who doesn’t wish to be caught is worse than grabbing a tiger by the tail. It’s like grabbing it by its front teeth.”

“And you don’t think that should bother me?”

“I think you’re obsessed with learning something that might come to you naturally if you’d let it. Don’t ever force a witch to do something she doesn’t want to do. Valeria doesn’t want to meet with you, Goldy. End of story.”

“So you came down here to tell me that?”

Ames rose, straightened out his pants and shook his head. “Nope. I came to tell you what
they
wouldn’t in the hopes that you lay off for a while. Do some reading. Maybe spend some time outside of the paranormal world you now call home. Your training. It’s been too long since you’ve come by the house. There is still so much more I need to teach you. You know so little about Saugen and all it can do. If you aren’t going to be a twenty-something, then at least be a
trained
demon hunter.”

Denny ran a hand through her hair. “I
have
been reading, Ames. A lot. I’m not sitting around eating bon-bons, you know.”

“Oh, I am aware of that. Believe it or not, I
know
why you want to meet with Valeria so much.”

Denny’s left eyebrow rose. “Oh?”

Ames walked over to Gwen and kissed her forehead once more. “Yep. You think she can help you pull your mother out of her catatonia, and I’m here to tell you she’ll never do it. Ever.”

“Why not?”

Laying his hand on Gwen’s shoulder, Ames looked deep into Gwen’s eyes and said quietly, “Because I think she’s the one who put her here.”

***

A
s Denny drove to the convent to visit her sister, she couldn’t shake Ames’s last words.

He did not explain. He did not elaborate. He merely walked away, leaving Denny with more questions than answers, which seemed to be the dance they did.

Usually when something threw Denny off balance in her life, she reached out for her older sister, Sister Sterling.

Today was no exception.

When Denny first realized she’d been the one in the family chosen to be the hunter, she also understood that Sterling had taken the habit as a way of repelling the demon. That way, she could better care for a family left to raise itself after the accident took their father and incapacitated their mother.

It was the first time Denny had forgiven her for leaving her to raise Pure.

“Golden! So good to see you.” Sister Sterling’s face lit up when she saw Denny. She stood back to let Denny pass. “I was just thinking about you. Is everything all right?”

Denny entered the tiny one room apartment her sister lived in at the convent. The room was small and dark and always too cold for Denny’s liking. There was a single picture of Jesus on the wall, a twin bed, and a beat-up dresser. It looked like a dorm room at the University of Slumville.

“Come in, come in.”

“Don’t you ever just wear sweats?”

Sterling laughed softly, her eyes dancing. “Only when God isn’t watching.”

“So, basically never?”

“Right. Can I get you some tea?”

“No, I’m good. I can’t stay long.” Denny sat at the wooden bistro set that had seen better days.