Blood of the Demon (The Silver Legacy Book 3) (12 page)

Denny stood by the bed, gazing down at the battered woman. She looked like a pixie who’d gotten caught in a blender. “She’s a tiny thing. I thought...” she shook her head. “She’s so small.”

“Small body and a huge heart: The heart of a warrior for sure.”

Denny leaned closer and examined the full-sleeve tattoo—a beautifully rendered oak tree whose roots were wrapped around her wrist and whose branches encircled her biceps. “That’s beautiful.”

“Indeed.
She
is beautiful...and she is an amazing hunter. But you already know that or you wouldn’t be here.”

Denny felt Valeria next to her before she saw her. “I’ve been keeping up with her kills in the Kill Book. I am a little in awe over her kill rate. She has more than anyone else in the book.”

“Yes, she is quite an adept hunter. Why do you call it that? Kill Book? I thought you hunters called it the Black Book.”

“That feels too Wiccan for me. I mean, come on. We enter our kills in blood? Yeah, Kill Book.” Denny touched Peyton with one finger. To her surprise, Peyton moved. “So what happened here, Valeria?”

Valeria sighed as she gazed up Peyton. “I am not quite certain of all the facts yet, and until Peyton is out of danger, I care little for what those demons are doing to New Orleans.” Valeria took Peyton’s vitals, checked her eyes, inspected the IV and the small clipboard hanging from it, before pointing to two high-back chairs in the corner of the small room. “You have questions about Peyton, I can try to answer, but please keep them centered on her or New Orleans. Now is not the time to worry about the past or my role in your mother’s life.”

Denny took her seat and nodded. The chair was incredibly uncomfortable, as was she. She didn’t like being told what she could and couldn’t talk about. “You came to help her. Why? What is she to you?”

“Before you can understand that, you must understand our family’s histories.” Valeria sat down across from Denny. Her hair seemed to glow in the darkness. “Peyton comes from one of the most ancient line of legacy hunters there is. Further by far than your family’s legacy.”

Denny settled into the large chair.

“When her family was in its third generation of hunting, they crossed paths with a line of witches being hunted and burned. They were tortured in ways unimaginable. Their coven, one of the strongest in all of Europe, was nearly wiped out by the witch hunters.”

Denny leaned forward, transfixed by Valeria’s voice.

“The demon hunters rallied together and crushed the witch hunters. They sent them packing—those who were still alive, that is. That was the first time the demon hunters and the witches had made a pact. The reason almost every hunter has a witch now. The witches pledged their eternal loyalty to the hunters and their progeny and included this oath in a charter. Since that time, select witches have watched over the hunters and their families.”

Denny started to inquire about her mother, then stopped. “Is that why you came here then? Because of the charter?”

Valeria rose and straightened the IV bag. “No. I came because Peyton’s family and my own have been entwined for over two hundred years. When I suspected she was in trouble, I came right away.”

“How did you know?”

There was a slight pause before Valeria replied. “I am well-connected in the supernatural world, Golden. The moment Peyton was in physical danger, I was made aware.”

“I see.”

But she didn’t. Not really.

Valeria leaned forward. “No, Golden, I don’t believe you do. Peyton’s refusal to take on a witch has made her life, her work, that much more difficult here. I’ve been keeping an eye out on her since she first started hunting. It is what my family has done for two centuries.”

“She not care for witches? A part of me really gets that. Cassandra and her coven can make me crazy at times.”

A slight grin toyed at the corner of Valeria’s lips. “
Au contraire
. She cares too much, I believe.”

“I feel a love story coming on.”

Valeria folded her hands and looked down at them. “Very much so. Peyton was deeply in love with a warlock.”

Denny leaned closer. “A male witch?”

“They
do
exist, you know. We just don’t see them because they tend to avoid covens at all costs.”

Denny mumbled. “I totally get that.”

Valeria glanced up at Denny “I’m sure you do. You...well...you have your hands full, don’t you?”

“Or something. Please go on.”

“She and Nicholas were very deeply in love. They talked about marriage, having kids, but Peyton wanted to keep hunting. She was unwilling to give up her Hanta or the legacy and she was unwilling to have a family as long as she was possessed.”

“Ouch. Tough call.”

Valeria nodded. “You had the chance once before to rid yourself of yours and you chose the demon.”

“Yeah, I did, but I didn’t keep it because I am enamored with the hunting lifestyle. I kept it because...it just seemed like the right thing to do.” Denny thought for a moment. “I did have my chance, but not anymore. It’s my responsibility now—my duty. Hell, maybe even my purpose in life. I wouldn’t give it up.”

“Not even for love?”

Denny shook her head again. “Not even for love. Besides, I am pretty certain that ship has sailed.”

Valeria lightly touched Denny’s wrist. “Not likely. You are too young to give up on love.”

“Maybe, but love and this lifestyle...well...oil and vinegar have a better chance at success.”

“There you have it. So their plans for a normal life went down the drain. She broke it off with him.”

“That shit happens, Valeria. Going solo is part of the gig, right?”

“Yes, that...shit does happen, but then Nicholas disappeared.”

“To nurse his broken heart?”

“No. I mean...disappeared. Vanished.”

“Oh. Damn.”

“Yes. She looked everywhere for him. Nothing. Not one sign. No one saw him. No one knew what happened to him. He just vanished.”

“Double ouch.”

“So she threw herself into her hunting. Day and night for months on end.”

Denny looked at her own hands. “Been there.”

“Yes. Yes, you have. With almost the same disastrous results.”

Denny’s locked eyes with Valeria. “You knew?”

“There is little I do not know about the demon world of Savannah, Golden.” She reached over and put her hand on Denny’s wrist. “You have some very good people in your life. Peyton does not.”

“Maybe she should reconsider taking a witch.”

“Oh, she’ll never do that. You see, Nicholas wasn’t her only loss.”

Peyton stirred and Valeria jumped up to check on her. “I’m here. Easy. You’re safe. You’re going to be all right.”

Denny stood on the other side of the bed and watched as Valeria tended to her.

“Is she...is she going to be okay? Is she really safe here?”

“I hope so. As for her safety? I am using every bit of magic at my disposal to keep her hidden. How you managed to find her is nothing short of amazing.”

“Can I do anything?”

Valeria turned and moved away from the bed. “Just keep the demons away if you can, Golden. They are after
her
.”

“Then they must be surprised to find another legacy in their midst.”

“Oh, count on it. Legacies are not known for their bonding. Put your number in here so we can keep in contact.” Valeria handed Denny her phone.

“You really think they are coming after her? Why? Why her and why now? Is this about the cleansing?”

“I do not believe it is. I believe they have targeted her for some reason I am trying to ascertain. They won’t stop, and it’s only a matter of time before they discover this safe house. The problem is, we need to move her and I don’t think we can. It would not be wise given her weakened state.”

“I’ll do whatever I can to help, Valeria. Perhaps it might be best if I drew them away from here. You know, give them a different target.”

Valeria inhaled deeply. “Your mother would not be happy to know I am asking her daughter to act as bait.”

“My mother would be proud to know that I am finally looking beyond myself and my life, Valeria. She would understand. You know she would.”

“Perhaps, but I will have her to answer to when this is all over.”

“No. When this is all over, you’re going to have to answer to me.”

***

D
enny didn’t get eight blocks away from her hotel when she felt the Hanta stir.

“Jesus H, give me a fucking break,” she growled, pulling both weapons from her vest.

She did not open the cylinders, but carried them at her sides as she ducked in and out of foot traffic, hoping to lead whoever was following her to the Woldenberg Riverfront Park. She needed to face them away from the crowds and tourists.

The very notion that they were upon her in a crowd told her these were nubile demons with no understanding or regard for staying on the down low.  No mid- or upper-level demon would face her on the crowded street of New Orleans for fear of getting caught or arrested.

Well, that and the Latin/Italian they spoke. Denny had never done well with it in school, but to hear it now made her regret not having done better. Lauren’s admonitions floated through her mind’s eye. Yes, she needed to know Latin.

Thank God the Hanta knew some. She was able to pick up just enough to get the gist of the threats they kept hurling at her.

Quickly scooting around the quarter, she made it unmolested to the park where she sought a less populated area to commence fighting.

It was almost midnight now, but still, there were people milling about. Denny moved closer to the water, where two homeless people slept on a park bench.

With her back to the water, Denny snapped her weapons to life. Fouet crackled. Epée sizzled. Both were bathed in a light blue light that would intensify as they extracted more blood.

So far, she had not been able to ascertain where her weapons originated. Not even Ames knew exactly where they came from—who made them? When?

“This is becoming tedious,” she said as the first five demons jogged down toward her, Latin bubbling from their mouths. They were all wearing hoodies. “You assholes watch too much NCIS.”

More Latin as they slowed to a walk.

“I understand now why Latin is a dead language.”

Whirling Fouet over her head like a lasso, Denny cut down the closest two and was preparing to go after the next three when a voice called out in English.

Not American English. British English.

“Cease at once.” The British voice was James Earl Jones deep.

The remaining demons froze where they stood in a semi-circle around her.

The demon who spoke stood just out of Fouet’s reach. Arrogance and conceit swirled around him like a dust cloud. He knew of her weapons, and knew just how far to stand so Fouet could not harm him.

“Good evening, Hunter. The minions have proven ineffectual against you thus far. You have managed to quite add a few notches on your belt. I applaud your tenacity.”

“Gonna collect a dozen more in a minute, asshole.”

The demon held his hand up. “For every one of us you kill, five more spring to life. You cannot possibly stop the inevitable.”

Denny took her fighting stance and allowed the Hanta to rise within her.

“You don’t even know what this is about do you? You’ve been running hither and thither when all you need to do is return home to your life—this is none of your concern.”

“Anything demonic is my business.” Denny felt the Hanta completely awake now and itching to cut this motherfucker down. “So why don’t you and your fancy schmancy British accent beat it before I cut you in half and feed you to the fish.”

“You do not belong here, Hunter. Surely you cannot be so dim-witted as to continue with this charade.”

“Fuck him.”

Denny looked around for the owner of the voice. “No charade, asshole. Just a lot of demon deaths.”

“Attack me, and those two pathetic souls over on that bench will be torn apart before you can take a single step.”

Denny did not lower her weapons. “You think I give two shits about those people?” That was all Hanta, because in truth, he didn’t.

“You’re bluffing.”

“Try me.”

When the nine demons descended on the two sleeping figures, Denny leapt six feet whipping Fouet over her head until she released it at their leader, talking off an arm.

He howled and stared at the appendage lying on the ground. “You filthy cur. I gave you a chance––”

Glancing over at the benches, Denny knew she couldn’t get to them in time. The demons would tear them apart and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

The Hanta had chosen to attack the demon instead of defend the innocents.

The British demon laughed. “Too late for them, I’m afraid.”

The attacking demons suddenly seemed incapable of moving beyond a certain point. It was as if there was an invisible wall preventing them from reaching the two homeless sleepers.

The one-armed Demon saw this and lunged at Denny.

With one swipe of Epée, she cleaved him in two. He imploded instantly, and the sound made the other demons look, up, hesitate a moment and then run away. They scattered in all directions.

“Fucking cowards!” She yelled after them.

Sheathing her weapons, Denny quickly strode over to the benches and ran into something she could not see. She actually bounced back a couple of feet.

“What the fuck?”

“Magic.”

Denny wheeled around, poised to strike.

Something hit her so hard, it knocked her backward ten feet, where she landed on her ass, skidded to a halt. In an instant, she leaped back on her feet.

Denny took one step then stopped. “Iris?”

Iris lowered her hands as she ambled over to Denny, a grin sliding across her face. “Miss me?”

“What in the hell are you doing here?”

“Geez, good seeing you, too. And you’re welcome for saving those two.”

Denny took several deep breaths to calm the Hanta down. “Sorry. My demon flunked elocution school. Thank you for the assist. I needed it.” Brushing off her ass, Denny sheathed her weapons and put them back in her vest. “I guess I needed it more than I want to admit.”