The Demon Within Read online

  Denny’s eyes narrowed. “And Quick said yes.”

  Reese tapped the file. “Keep reading. I did a little more digging on Mr. Owny. Seems he was arrested a while back for possession with intent. Funny that recently the charges were dropped.”

  Denny looked up. “They cut a deal.”

  “Oh, they did more than cut a deal, Den. They changed his statement so when he was on the stand, he said—”

  Denny read the quote, “‘Quick told me one night that the parents needed to go—that they were in the way.’” She glanced up. “I remember when he said this. There was a gasp from the spectators in the courtroom.”

  “Even though it was struck down as hearsay, the jury and everybody else heard it. Didn’t matter what it was labeled.” Reese reached across the table and set her hand on Denny’s. “I need you to understand what this could mean.”

  “I get what it could mean. Those two attorneys fabricated evidence to put Quick away. We’re talking conspiracy here that would blow the lid off of the justice system in Georgia.”

  Reese shook her head. “That’s just the tip of a very dangerous iceberg. If you go after the DA, he could attach other murders to your brother. He could, in essence, make a bad situation intolerable. This could go south on Quick in any number of ways. You have to consider all of this carefully.”

  Denny looked back at the file. “If you want out, Reese, I’ll understand.”

  “Out? Oh, hell no, Golden Silver, I run from no one. You just need to understand that you’re poking a rabid beast in the eye. I don’t know what they had against Quick or your family, but I’ll lay odds those two attorneys worked together to put him away for life. Do you have any idea why?”

  Denny looked at her before slowly shaking her head. “No, but I’m going to find out.”

  “We are going to find out. You need to be incredibly careful here, Denny. DA Carol is a prick of the highest order. He has a God complex the likes of which few neurosurgeons and Chief Justices have witnessed. Crossing him or letting him know we’re investigating him could be dangerous to us all.”

  “All?”

  “Your family. Quick. Sterling. And that’s why I’m here. I need you to talk to your siblings to find out what they think his motive might have been. You need to dig deeper than anyone ever did. Leave no stone unturned. While you do that, I’m going to have to follow all those leads the DA did not. This is huge, Denny...really, really huge. Be extremely vigilant. Stay on your toes. Know that this is going to get worse before it gets better.”

  Nodding, Denny sipped her Bailey’s, leaving her hand under Reese’s warm palm. “Roger that. So you want me to talk to them both and what else? Surely there’s more I can do.”

  “That’s good for now. Keep your nose clean but your ear to the ground.”

  “Well, I’m not particularly good at, nor fond of ‘keeping my nose clean,’ as you can imagine. I’m sick of people using my family as a punching bag.”

  Reese collected the file and put it back in her briefcase. “I was afraid that was going to be your reaction. Look, Denny, flying under the radar will suit us best right now. You go off half-cocked and you could risk everything. Everything.”

  “I understand.”

  Reese leaned over the table. “Do you? Promise me you will not confront either Jones or Carol. Doing so will tip them off. We need the element of surprise. Don’t blow that for us.”

  Denny walked Reese to the door. The tension hanging between them was palpable, and though Denny might have acted upon it on another occasion in another life, she could not do so now.

  “I promise. No stupid confrontations.”

  Reese smiled sweetly. “Thank you. Get back to me after you talk to your siblings. I’ll keep you posted on everything I find out.” She touched her own nose. “Nose clean.”

  Denny grinned. “Absolutely. Thank you.”

  There was a quiet hesitation between them before Reese walked out the door.

  Denny stood at the open door and watched as she drove away.

  Yes, she had promised no stupid confrontations, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t start developing a course of action that included keeping a closer eye on the two attorneys somehow responsible for Quick’s internment. DA Carol and Pubic Defender Jones were on her list now.

  “Well, Rush, I guess I should have explained to Reese that Hantas seldom keep their word, huh?”

  Closing the door, Denny made her way up to her lair, where she began her studies in earnest.

  ****

  Gwen’s Journal

  I’ve learned a great deal about our legacy and what our true calling is. While I am not surprised, at least the holes are being filled in bit by bit, piece-by-piece. I am beginning to see the bigger picture.

  Tonight, I took down a demon, a mid-level demon, for a young man who had travelled from New York for my help. The demon was, of all things, a blackmailer, and had backed the kid into a corner with all sorts of threats.

  He put up quite a fight, that mid-leveler, but I managed to take his legs out from under him, and it was all downhill for him after that.

  The moment before I killed him, I understood so much about the importance of hunting these things. If you have a skill that can help people and then don’t use it, what does that say about you? Can you just turn your back on those who need your skill?

  Well, I can’t.

  I’ve inherited this power, and yes, this demon was…well…a bad egg. It was evil incarnate and when I stared into its eyes, I knew they were a plague on the earth and needed to be stamped out. I knew that I had the power, the ability, and the weapons to make this world a safer place. And I think it was at that moment that I fully settled into my role.

  So, when Fouet took his head off, and his guts sprayed everywhere, I finally, irrevocably accepted my responsible in this life.

  When I got back and showered, I sat down with Robert and told him how I felt about my legacy. I explained to him that it wasn’t just a duty; it was a life long responsibility...one I needed to start taking more seriously. One that needed my full attention when I wasn’t raising the kids.

  He wasn’t happy, and I don’t blame him, but it’s what I have to do. Of course, he is worried about the kids. So am I. But I made it to adulthood, so why can’t they?

  ****

  Denny read until her eyes felt like sandpaper. There was still so much to learn—so much to know. And with thousands of books on the shelves, it was hard to determine which ones to read.

  She’d been reading a couple of books on tracking and what to look for. She was also reading a book about legacies and she realized that her mother’s journal, while eye-opening so far, barely scratched the surface.

  Legacy hunters dated back to the eleventh century, but Denny’s family entered the game somewhere in the fourteenth century. Those series of books about her family’s history weren’t in her library. She was sure of that now.

  She needed to find those books.

  She needed to know more about how it was her ancestors were chosen.

  They were chosen, right?

  This was what she needed to know.

  But until she did, she needed to keep reading everything she could to learn as much as she possible about this thing inside her.

  What she had only recently come to understand was that the Hanta within her mother had actually chosen Denny. A month ago, she had thought it accidental—that the Hanta leapt into her when her mother coded in the hospital because it was afraid her mother was going to die. She now realized that what she’d mistaken for panic on the Hanta’s part was, in fact, patience.

  It had been waiting for her.

  It knew she was the one but needed the right time to make the transfer.

  It could have jumped into any of her siblings at any time while they were visiting their mother, but it waited for her. It had wanted her.

  Why? Why Denny?

  Denny paced back and forth, questions pinging around in her head.
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  Then she stopped. She realized she was asking the wrong question.

  Why not her?

  Sister Sterling was exactly where she belonged. The always pious, incredibly self-righteous nun deserved the life she was leading now behind the convent walls. Quick was too far out there to be trusted. He was rebellious and undisciplined, and would never have been the choice. Pure was simply too young. It had to be Denny, and the Hanta knew it. It had known all along.

  So, it leapt into her and then waited for her to get old enough or strong enough to handle the truth. That was pretty much what she was doing in the lair these days: handling the truth...or at least trying to get a handle.

  She had so much to learn, far more than just the glowing red eyes and growling voices. There were telltale signs of demonic activity. The demons could either flee or fight, usually the latter. There was often static electricity left behind by demons—sometimes it was water movement—and if the demon was particularly young, and in a new host, a smell of sulphur could be detected if someone nearby was paying close attention.

  What surprised her the most was the fact that a non-possessed human that had recently been touched by a demon or possessed individual actually carried the mark of that demon for a few hours upon their skin. A highly skilled hunter need only touch that person to be able to sense or “read” the nature of the demon who had left the mark.

  The mark.

  Denny thought about Bubba, the arm-wrestler.

  When she had grabbed his hand, an odd sensation had filled her. It travelled up her arm and enflamed the base of her skull, but she had figured it was her Hanta’s reaction to the arm-wrestling event.

  She thought differently now.

  A demon had recently touched Bubba—maybe he’d wrestled him, maybe he’d just passed by—whatever the case was, when she and Bubba had grabbed hands, she’d felt the mark. She didn’t see it, but it had to have been there somewhere.

  Rising, Denny slowly scanned her bookshelves. She found it interesting how quickly they had become her books...her lair.

  Plucking a book on Demonology, she flipped through the index. There it was: Types of Demons.

  Eudemons have no desire to hurt humans or create obstacles in their path. That role belongs to the cacodemons which thrive on causing chaos and wreaking havoc—from murders to their favorite duty of fathering babies.

  Babies?

  She lowered the book. “Iris.”

  Sticking a three-by-five card in the page, she set the book down and pulled up the term cacodemons on the laptop she’d brought up to the room.

  In psychology, cacodemia is a form of insanity in which the patient believes they are possessed by an evil spirit. What gives the cacodemon so much power is societal non-belief in demons. This has strengthened demons and enabled them to not only grow in number, but create an astounding abundance of issues from minor acts like lying, to major indiscretions like affairs, money laundering, and sexual perversions…all of these feed the cacodemon’s desire for chaos.

  Denny clicked out of the screen.

  So it appeared Iris might have a cacodemon after her.

  Why Iris?

  It had followed her all the way down from Boston when it clearly could have had any other college coed it wanted. It specifically chose her.

  So, why her? What was it about her that made these demons follow her all the way down to Georgia?

  Picking up the phone, she called Lauren.

  “Well, if it isn’t great to see your name pop up on my screen, Den. It was great to see you the other day, and now a phone call? It’s been so long since we chatted on the phone.”

  Denny grinned. Lauren had always had a way of making her smile. “I’m back in the land of the living for good and off demon watch. I’ve changed some of my evil ways. How are you?”

  After several minutes of small talk, Lauren said, “I can tell by your voice that you need something. What can my mega-mind and lightning fast fingers do for you?”

  Denny chuckled. “Damn you, I hate that you know me so well.”

  “No, you don’t. You love it. So spit it out. Professor Lindberg is waddling this way with a stack of books.”

  “I need background info on a Bostonian family—more specifically, the daughter, Iris. Iris Carter.” She quickly gave Lauren the data she needed and hung up before Professor Lindberg made it to the desk.

  So, with a little more knowledge under her belt, information being culled from the Internet, and a clean house, there was one more thing Denny needed to do to get back to center.

  And it involved flowers.

  ****

  Denny stopped by Rose’s Flower Cart and bought a spring bouquet with added baby’s breath. Denny felt good to be back in the land of the living. The house was finally in order. Dishes were put away, laundry done, and bathrooms cleaned. She’d called and spoken with both Sterling and Pure, just to check in, and was delighted to hear that both of them were doing well and they were thrilled to hear the lightness in her voice. As usual, Sterling grilled her on the Hanta issue, but Denny had wanted to keep the conversation easy and non-demonic, so they chatted about everything else but that.

  When her phone calls were done, she felt a huge sense of relief. She hadn’t realized just how close she’d come to letting the Hanta separate her from those she loved.

  Not anymore.

  And although she was unsure of whether she’d successfully corked that genie back in the bottle, she did know she was back in the driver’s seat at this moment.

  As she drove to the coffee shop, Denny felt like she was finally beginning to live this life on her terms. She was more herself than she had in a long time and was eager to get back into the game.

  Pulling into the parking lot, Denny grabbed the bouquet, got out, locked the car door, and took four steps before stopping.

  Sitting at a table with an incredibly handsome woman was Brianna, her hand lying on top of the other woman’s hand. They were engrossed in a conversation that kept Brianna’s eyes riveted to the woman with short black hair and large hoop earrings.

  Denny was too late.

  Brianna had moved on.

  Who could blame her? Denny had been an asshole, and she knew it. All Brianna had done was show she cared over and over, and Denny had crushed that concern beneath her heel.

  With the flowers barely hanging from her grasp, Denny watched the subtle dance of intimacy between the two women—the flirtation, the leaning closer—and those hands...

  Denny remembered how warm Brianna’s hand had felt on hers that day they’d gone on a picnic together. Preternaturally warm.

  The woman sitting across was now the benefactor of that warmth.

  Denny was too late.

  The Hanta had managed to drive a wedge between Denny and Brianna, and someone else had stepped into the vacated opening.

  Letting the flowers drop from her hand, Denny got back in the Prius, feeling the anger of the Hanta stir within her.

  She was too late.

  Had she looked in her rearview mirror as she pulled out of the parking lot, she would have seen Brianna bending over to pick up the flowers.

  “Oh Denny...What have you done?”

  ****

  Denny knew she was a fool for thinking a woman like Brianna would sit around waiting for the likes of her. So far, Denny she had been nothing but a pain in the ass to her.

  No, she was smart to kick Denny to the curb. Denny had been belligerent and cold. She’d shown Brianna nothing Rush knew of her—nothing Pure might describe. Brianna didn’t get to see kindness, softness, or generosity. No, what Brianna had witnessed was ninety percent Hanta. She was smart to put Denny in her rearview mirror and burn rubber on her way out the door.

  Denny was a long shot at best—a risk—a hard roll of the dice. She was, after all, possessed, and even a witch didn’t deserve to have to deal with that shit even if she thought she could handle it. Life was hard enough without having to deal with a possessed person.<
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  Without a thought or any planning, Denny found herself at the Catholic School where Sister Sterling taught.

  “Golden. So good to see you,” Sterling said, embracing Denny in the hallway in front of her classroom. “Come in, come in.”

  “You sure?” Denny had watched the children stream from the room as she walked down the hall.

  “I have a parent meeting in thirty minutes, but I always have time for you.” Sterling pulled two chairs together and motioned for Denny to take one. “You look much better than the last time I saw you. I’ve been so worried. We all have.”

  Denny nodded. “I know, and I’m better now. The Hanta...it kinda grabbed the wheel there after Rush left. Self-preservation, I think. Hard to tell. I know so little about this thing inside me, but I’m learning…or at least trying to.”

  “Mom’s journal any help?”

  Denny shrugged. “It’s taking a while to get through it. Hell, Sterling, it’s six inches thick and it’s not the only one.”

  “Is it...does it hurt?”

  Denny glanced away a moment before returning her gaze to Sister Sterling. “She was very good at her...job.” Denny glanced around at the classroom. Dioramas of missions lined the wall on one side of room that looked unlived in.

  So Catholic.

  “Not good enough, as it turned out.”

  Denny returned her gaze to Sterling’s green eyes. Sterling’s, on occasion, could look a turquoise blue, and they were that color now. “I’ve been thinking. What if uncovering the demons responsible for Quick’s frame up puts you and Pure, even Mom, in danger? Is it worth that risk?”

  Taking Denny’s hands in hers, Sterling leaned closer. “You’re asking if Quick is worth the risk and yes, Denny, he is. Is he a screw-up? Yes. Is he a flake? Yes. Is he a Silver? Absolutely. I know I’ve had issues with all of….this…but—”

  “But you’ve realized that I am going to host this demon no matter what, so we may as well use it to get one of us out of trouble.”