Darkness Descends (The Silver Legacy Book 1) (13 page)

“God, I have no idea what I’m doing here. I had a completely different notion. Wiccans don’t worship them?”

“No. Not at all. We have an interesting relationship with them. While we do have an act of summoning, called
Goetic Magick
, demons are never worshipped. Ever. We merely acknowledge their existence. Those who believe they can control demons by
Goetic Magick
are rare. Rare and dangerous. Summoning demons usually ends poorly for all involved. It’s just bad business.”

Denny felt like she ought to be taking notes.

“Am I on the right track with what you need to know?”

Denny sipped her coffee and looked down at her reflection. “Yes, thank you. Can they...can they be killed?”

“According to several religions, as well as myths, there is usually a grimoire, or
Black Book of Demons,
that not only lists those demons, but explains how to summon or destroy them.

“A grimoire?”

Brianna ate more of the croissant. “It is sort of a journal maintained by demon hunters and those who deal with them.”

“So it’s an instruction manual of sorts?”

“Of sorts. The myths state when a demon hunter has destroyed one of the demons, they write in the grimoire using their own blood or the blood of the demon.”

Denny shuddered. “Gross. Why on earth would they do that?”

“It’s thought that by doing so, it appears in all other Black Books held by other hunters. This way, they share information and can keep track of the different types of demons appearing.”

“Wait.” Denny held her hand up. “Let me get this straight. If I––if a hunter writes using his
blood
for ink, it shows up in
other
books? How is that possible?” Denny waved the question off. “Never mind.”

“So the story goes. Pretty wild, huh?”

“Has anyone ever seen these books?”

Brianna smiled patiently. “So far, they are just myths, but there are several references to the grimoires dating as far back as fourteen sixty-seven in a work by Alfonso de Spina, who prepared a classification of demons based on specific criteria.” Brianna paused to take a bite from her sandwich. “They think he got these criteria based on the grimoires.”

“Okay. So these hunters have a manual of sorts. Cool. What sort of powers do these demons possess?”

“Oh wow. That’s quite a list. They can, of course, possess people, both living and dead, and that could very well be their greatest power.”

“Living
and
dead?”

“And dead. They can interfere with electro magnetics. They’re often both immortal and nearly invulnerable. I believe, however, that everything has an end game.”

“Wait. Invulnerable? Then how do I...how does
someone
kill one?”

“Well, a broken neck would kill a human, but not a demon. They can only be killed by special weapons or rituals.”

Denny wondered if she’d missed something in the lair. “Special weapons...okay.”

Brianna studied Denny carefully. “They never tire and only eat to keep the host alive. Higher ranking demons often––”

“They’re
ranked
?”

“Hell, yes. I told you. There’s a pecking order. They are very organized. Some have telekinesis, but not many. Some can cast spells and teleport, but not in bodies. They can often heal themselves and others. They have a great many powers. That’s why hunters are needed.”

“Damn. Okay. That’s a lot of strengths. Any weaknesses?”

Brianna cocked her head from side to side. “You sound like this might be more than research. You got demons in your belfry?”

“Of course not. I don’t have a belfry.”

They laughed.

“Fine. Weaknesses. Salt, holy water, iron, runes, and flesh sigils are standard for lesser demons. You can banish or destroy them with exorcism, or with a scythe, and there’s some knife or sword that will render them immobile or dead, depending on the level of demon, but again, those weapons are purely myth at this point.” Brianna sipped her coffee. “If you want more detailed––”

“No, no. That was very helpful, thank you, but, what’s a flesh sigil?”

“You writing a paper or something?”

“Or something.” Denny salted her sandwich and took a bite.

Brianna stared at her for a long time before answering. “We Wiccans don’t trust just anyone, Golden Silver. As you witnessed firsthand, people are quick to jump on the ‘burn them at the stake’ bandwagon. Why should I trust you?”

Denny blinked. “Maybe because I stood up for you against a guy who could have punched my lights out? Because my best friend came to bat for both of us to keep said lights from being punched out? If that didn’t earn your trust, I don’t know what will.”

As if satisfied with the answer, Brianna launched into her explanation. “A sigil is a symbolic line drawing or carving that is empowered by thought with actions. The runes are a dialect of symbols meant for reading and writing, divination, and magical reactions.” Brianna smiled softly. “You’ve really piqued my interest, Golden Silver, and I’m betting there’s more to you than meets the eye.” Brianna laid her hand on top of Denny’s. It was warmer than the spirit touch of Denny’s lover. “Whatever your secret is, it’s safe with me. You have my word.”

Denny looked down at their hands and then back up to Brianna. “I’m afraid my secrets run far and wide and would only scare you off.”

Brianna waved her hand in the air. “Oh, pshaw. Takes more than a bunch of strange questions to scare me off. It isn’t every day you meet someone you can connect with, and I sincerely hope we can find a way to be friends. I’d love to meet your girlfriend.”

“Oh, uh...yeah. That would be great. She’s pretty busy, but I’m sure we can arrange something.”

“I’d really like that. It would keep her from getting paranoid if we could meet and see that I’m not a threat.”

Denny bit into her sandwich, thinking about what an interesting meeting it would be between a Wiccan and a ghost. She couldn’t imagine it would go over very well at all.

“As much as I would love to be your go-to girl on demonology, Denny, I’d be remiss if I didn’t tell you there’s an expert here in Savannah by the name of Ames Walker. He can tell you stories upon stories of ghosts and demons in these parts.”

“Ames Walker? How come I’ve never heard of him?”

Brianna smiled. “Well...to say he’s reclusive would be an understatement. The man disdains company of any kind even though he’s a business owner of some renown.”

Denny slouched onto the table. “Oh great. You’re sending me off to see a nut job?”

Brianna grinned. “Sending you? Absolutely not. Go
with
you, and yes, I’d love to.” When Brianna pulled out her phone, her eyes sparkled. “Trust me, darlin’, this will be a visit you’ll never forget.”

***

D
enny had really enjoyed talking to Brianna. She laughed easy, listened attentively, and was easy on the eyes. Why she was single was a mystery to Denny. For some reason, when Brianna shared that news, it made Denny both uncomfortable and elated.

Brianna called Ames Walker and made an appointment to take Denny to see him. After the call, Brianna asked Denny about her family, her school, and her life.

Denny came close to telling her about Rush, but decided against it. Denny didn’t know her well enough to share such confidential information. It was bad enough she knew there was a ghost in the house, if she knew Rush was her lover, she’d think Denny was a nut-bag herself.

After Brianna left to change her clothes before meeting with Ames Walker, Denny looked at her watch and realized it was a little too early to pick Pure up so she sat there thinking about her lunch with Brianna.

Oh hell, who was she kidding?

She couldn’t stop thinking about
Brianna
. She seemed to know so much about the supernatural and had been so patient explaining everything to her even though she was an outsider to the Craft.

Before she went back to the high school, she swung by the nursing home and visited her mother, who was sitting in her room in front of the window, as she tended to do on nice days. Princess was reading the newspaper to her.

“Hey, Princess. Can I have a minute with her?”

When Princess left, Denny knelt in front of her mother and held her frail hands.

“Hi, Mom. Well, I found your lair. What a cool room. I can’t wait to read those books, to learn more about my heritage. I just...I just don’t know if I have what it takes to hunt
anything
, let alone demons.” Denny laid her head beside Gwen’s. “To be honest, Mom, I’m a little afraid. No, strike that. I am scared shitless. It feels like something...something strange is happening to me. I threw this football player twenty feet away without batting an eye. A football player, Mom. I’m strong, but I’m sure I couldn’t even lift him.”

Denny sat up and looked into eyes that stared into a deep abyss of nothingness, her heart slowly cracking. “I miss you so much, and now that Pure might be in danger, I feel totally paranoid. Everywhere I look I see shadows and danger. It sucks. I guess...I guess I understand why you were warning me off.”

Denny rose and kissed her mother’s forehead. “I love you, Mom. If this is something I have to do to protect what’s left of our family, I will. I promise.”

Five minutes later, Denny sat in her car with her forehead pressed against the steering wheel, bawling.

Being scared was one thing––saying it aloud to her mother just made it much more real. Denny was terrified of what lay ahead—like some monster she couldn’t see or hear.

A week ago, she was just another college kid with a dysfunctional family and a ghost for a lover. Now, she was being asked to do something she wasn’t at all sure she had the courage or the desire to do.

How did one
become
a hunter of demons anyway? With every question, there were five more to follow, until she felt she was drowning in them.

Denny drove slowly through the streets of Savannah, not quite sure who she was anymore. She’d never been a fighter. Ever. She was always the one who tried to keep the peace. She was against hunting for sport
or
pleasure, against wars to solve diplomatic issues, and never watched boxing, wrestling, or any type of ultimate fighting.

Now, Quick was a great choice for a hunter. He was fast, brave, and could probably pull the trigger if threatened. He was curious to the point of distraction, but the one quality he possessed more than any other was loyalty. If Quick told you he had your back, he had your back. She wished he wasn’t locked up so he could have her back now.

When Denny pulled into the high school parking lot, she saw Pure with her group of friends in the quad laughing and messing around like teenagers do. Mike Cockerton kept bridging the gap between himself and her sister, to the point of obviousness. She watched them for a couple of minutes, flirting back and forth. Mike Cockerton kept touching Pure’s back in a way that felt like hovering to Denny. Too close. Too possessive.

He was spraying his territory, and it pissed Denny off enough that she got out of the car and leaned on the hood. When Pure finally saw her, she motioned that she was going to her locker.

Mike Cockerton jammed his hands into his jeans and sauntered over to where Denny stood.

“Yo, yo, yo big sis.”

Denny crossed her arms and shook her head. “You know you’re white, right?” She felt the bile rise in her throat and the hackles on her neck rise with it. Something was off about this guy.

“You don’t like me, do you?” Mike Cockerton stood five feet from her, his feet planted shoulder width apart, his hands still in his pockets, and his eyes...

She couldn’t have seen what she thought she did.

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment.

“I don’t know you enough to dislike you,” Denny heard herself say. “So just be damn sure you don’t give me a reason.”

“Well, your sister is safe with me.”

“I don’t know that either.”

“Oooh, tough nut to crack.” He didn’t take his eyes from Denny’s. “I’ve met parents easier than you.”

Denny pushed herself off the Prius and planted her feet in mirror image to his. “There’s no cracking this
nut
, Mr. Cockerton. Pure means the world to me, and it’s my job to make sure she’s safe from assholes and dickweeds and anyone else who might shove her off her path.”

His eyebrows rose. “Whoa. I’m no asshole or––”

“Good. Make sure you’re
very
clear about the proper way to comport yourself around my sister and you and I won’t have a problem.”

“Comport?”

“Act. It means act. As long as you’re not an ass around, to, or with Pure, then we won’t have any issues.
Capisce
?”

He stepped back. His face changed as he finally connected the dots. “Oh. I get it. You’re one of them man-hating dykes, is that it?”

Denny was rolling onto the balls of her feet just as Pure bounded up.

“Hey. M.C., this is my sister, Denny.”

Denny nodded once. “We’ve met. Come on, Pure. I’ve got shit to do.” Denny waited for Pure to say goodbye before opening the passenger door for her.

Once Pure was in the car, Denny walked right up to Mike and said in a voice not at all like her own, “You ever use
that
word around me again and that stupid jacket you’re wearing is all they’ll find of you,
asshole
.”

Before he replied, Denny pulled open her car door. “You need to teach your
friend
some manners,” she said, again in a voice she barely recognized. “Or
I
will.”

***

S
he watched him flirt, buy drinks, and act like he owned the world. Human men lusting after flesh were such huge targets for demons. They could not see beyond their drive to sate their physical desires. They could not hear the darkness creeping ever closer.

They were careless simpletons who were too arrogant to recognize that it was the flesh of woman that controlled them and not the other way around. They were victims of a predatory instinct and yearning that overcame all other senses, often placing them in grave danger.