Demon Hunter Read online

  ****

  It was dark when Denny parked five houses down from Mike Cockerton’s. She looked at the two cylinders lying on the passenger seat. Her right hand lightly grazed them. They were warm to her touch when they should have been cold.

  “Later,” Denny whispered. “When I know what I’m doing.”

  Denny then snuck to the back of the house where she peeked in the window. She could hear talking...laughter...Pure’s laughter.

  “No... God damn it, Pure,” Denny muttered under her breath as she stormed around to the front and rang the doorbell.

  She waited five minutes.

  “Pure, I know you’re in there. Come out before I call the cops. Is that what you want?” Denny waited for a response. When none came, she pulled out her phone and held it in the air.

  “In five seconds, I’m calling the cops. One...two...three—”

  The front door opened. “What the fuck is the matter with you? You’re embarrassing me,” Pure whined.

  Denny put her phone back in her pocket. “We don’t lie to each other, Pure. We never have and we’re not going to start now. You should have told me where you were going.”

  “Why? So you could say no?” Pure walked down the path toward Denny. Mike Cockerton filled the front doorway.

  “That’s not fair. You can’t second guess—”

  “Yes, I can! He’s a nice guy. He makes me laugh. Why can’t you trust my choices?”

  “What choice is that, Pure?” Denny saw the words as they left her mouth, too late to pull them back.

  “Who I’m going to hang out with. You’re not my mother. You don’t get a vote.”

  Denny heard her mother’s voice—the last five were words she’d often said to Denny. “But I’m afraid I do. Until you’re eighteen, you are my responsibility and I’m not going to let you get involved with some jackass no neck from California.”

  “You need to trust your sister.”

  Mike Cockerton was coming down the path toward them.

  “Back off, man,” Denny said, taking a step toward him. That same hot feeling filled her muscles and flowed her veins. “Back off, asshole. This is none of your concern.”

  Mike laughed. “Dude, of course it concerns me. I’m not some guy who’s gonna sit around while someone, even a family member, bullies my girlfriend.”

  Denny felt the wind being sucked from her. “Your—”

  Pure stood in front of Denny. “I was gonna tell you, Denny, but you’ve been so—”

  Denny turned toward Mike Cockerton. “Oh hell no. This,” she waved her hand in the air, “Whatever this is, isn’t happening.” Denny felt the pendant grow warm against her skin, her breathing became labored, her muscles tightening beneath her Georgia Bulldog sweatshirt. Sweat formed on her spine.

  Something was happening.

  “I’m afraid it’s already happened, Denny. Please don’t embarrass me any further. Can’t we ta—”

  “Get in the car, Pure,” Denny ordered in that strange voice.

  Pure shook her head. “You’re being totally unreasonable. You don’t even know him.”

  “I don’t need to know him. You need to trust me on this. He’s not what he appears. Of this I am certain.”

  “And you need to trust me, but you don’t. You keep treating me like a little girl and I’m not.”

  Denny grabbed Pure’s arm. “Get in the fucking car.” There was that voice again—harsh, deep, raw, and commanding.

  A look of fear clouded Pure’s eyes.

  “Let her go.” Mike Cockerton made the mistake of grabbing Denny’s shoulder. She whirled on him, hitting his chest hard with both hands. He lifted off the ground four feet and landed on the brick path fifteen feet away, the air whooshing from his body. He lay there, unmoving.

  No one moved.

  Time slowed.

  Pure blinked and looked at Denny as if she didn’t know her. She ran to Mike’s side. He was shaking his head as if to remove the cobwebs and slowly rose up on his elbows.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Pure screamed. “You could have killed him.” Pure helped Mike to his feet, and he leaned on her for support. “Go home, Denny. I don’t know what the fuck that was, but get the hell out of here.”

  Denny watched in silence as Pure helped Mike back into the house, the door slamming closed behind them. She turned her hands over, palm up, and stared at them, unsure if they were even hers.

  Pure had hit it on the head. What the fuck was wrong with her? With nothing but the desire to do so, she’d shoved a guy who probably outweighed her by seventy or eighty pounds three feet in the air and nearly fifteen feet away and she had no idea how.

  Not only that, she’d managed to successfully push Pure farther away and right into the arms of the person Denny least trusted.

  In one week, she’d lost her girlfriend, her sister, and her plan for her life.

  As Denny got back in the Prius, she decided to do something she had never done before.

  Never.

  Even as she made the decision, she didn’t know why it felt like an option for her, but it was the only thing that seemed worth doing. Denny headed for the only gay bar in town to drink her sorrows away.

  ****

  “Trust me...ghosts are more trouble than they’re worth,” Denny said, shooting her fourth shot of whiskey. The first two shots had burned her throat and made her eyes water. Then this woman bought her a Jameson’s whiskey—three finger’s worth. It went down like water. No burn.

  “This is better than that gasoline you were chuggin’, hon,” the woman said, pressing her knee against Denny’s. She could have been twenty four or forty two. It was hard to tell in the smokey din of the bar.

  Denny stared at the amber liquid in the shot glass with its worn label. Where had this come from? New York? New Hampshire? It was hard to tell. And what was her name? Suzie? Sasha? Sarah? It was an S name, she was positive. Denny lifted the shot glass and shot it back before slamming the glass down on the bar. “Booyah!”

  Sarah/Sandy/Sharon laughed as she motioned to the bartender for two more.

  “So...you’re pretty knowledgeable about ghosts, are you? I bet you know your way around the living as well.” Shirley/Serena/Sindy fairly purred as she slid her knee between Denny’s.

  The room suddenly became much smaller. Was her hair gray or blonde?

  “That, I’m not so sure of. Ghosts, I can do...people…not so much.”

  Sue/Sally/Sierra leaned closer. “I’d love to test that theory.” Her eyes smoldered as she spoke. Denny couldn’t tell if they green or blue.

  Furrowing her brow, Denny had already forgotten what theory they were talking about. “That Jameshtown whishkey is shmooth.”

  The bartender set two more in front of them. When Denny looked at them, she saw four. Not a good sign.

  “Shit. I’m a goner.”

  Shannon/Suri/Simone moved within inches of her face. “You lean on me, hon. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.” She handed Denny another shot glass of Jameson’s before pounding down her own.

  Before Denny could focus long enough on the drink her hand, someone else slid a proprietary arm around her shoulders.

  “Denny Silver, I’m so sorry I’m so late. I got held up a work.”

  Denny squinted to see who the new voice belonged to.

  “Brianna!” Denny said a little too loud. “This is my friend...Sss...Sss”

  “Shawn,” the woman said, giving Brianna the stink eye.

  “Yes. That’s it. Good one. Shawn, this is my new friend, Brianna. Brianna, Shawn. Shawn, Brianna.”

  “Yea, love, we got it,” Brianna said. “Looks like you’ve had a little too much.”

  “I was jusht tellin’...”

  “Shawn.” The woman said tersely.

  “Right,” Denny said, punctuating the sentence with a period.

  They both waited.

  “What?” Denny looked down at the glass in her hand. Suddenly, she couldn’t seem t
o remember anything.

  “Well, it was nice meeting you, Brianna, but Denny and I were just about ready to leave.”

  “We are?”

  Shawn nodded. “Finish that up and let’s—”

  Brianna’s hand reached over and plucked the drink from Denny’s hand. Then she threw the shot back and set the glass on the bar. “She owed me a drink,” Brianna said by way of an explanation. “And she’s not going anywhere with you.”

  “Look, honey—”

  Denny suddenly stood up and turned to Brianna. “My ghosht is gone, my shister’s pisshed off at me, and I jusht can’t go home to that big empty place all by myshelf.”

  “You don’t have to,” Brianna said softly, sliding her arm around Denny’s waist. “I’m taking you home.”

  “Hey, whoa. What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Shawn demanded. “You can’t just waltz in here and—”

  “Sure I can.” Brianna pulled a twenty from her pocket and tossed it on the bar. “As for what I’m doing? I’m saving a friend from a myriad of diseases and emotional complications she doesn’t need right now. So if you’ll excuse us.”

  “Why, you fucking little bitch.” Shawn closed the gap between herself and Brianna. Brianna surprised everyone by meeting her halfway.

  “Trust me, sweetheart, you don’t want to mess with me,” Brianna said through clenched teeth. She towered over the woman a good six inches. “I’ll drop you like that.” She snapped her fingers.

  Shawn laughed. She actually laughed.

  “Take it out back, ladies,” the bartender growled. “The last fight cost two ladies five grand, an ambulance ride, and jail time.”

  “What’s out back?” Denny asked.

  Everyone ignored her.

  “You ain’t just waltzing in here, friend, and taking her off my hands, so if you know what’s best, you’ll back the fuck away.” Shawn poked Brianna’s chest to punctuate the last four words.

  “Hey, Shandra! Don’t do that. She’s my friend.”

  “Denny, I got this,” Brianna said.

  Shawn pushed her ample chest out. “Oh, sweetpea, you got nothin’, but you’re gonna if you don’t back the. Fuck. Up.”

  Shawn made it to the second chest poke before Denny caught her hand and squeezed it so hard, Shawn fell to her knees. “Stop poking my friend, Sharon.”

  “I said, take it outside.”

  Brianna grabbed Denny’s free hand and yanked her toward the door. “Come on before we all wind up in jail.”

  When they got to Brianna’s Volkswagon, Denny pulled her hand away. “How come Suzanne was poking you? That wasn’t very nice. I thought she was nice, but she wasn’t, huh?”

  Brianna smiled as she opened the passenger door and helped Denny get in. “Not important. How much have you had to drink?”

  Denny thought a moment. “Six shots...no, seven...no, six. Wait...”

  Leaning across her, Brianna clicked Denny’s seatbelt. “I’ll drive you home.”

  Denny’s head lolled to the left when Brianna got in. “Nice ride.”

  “Thanks. The Holbrook House, right?”

  “What about it?”

  Brianna started the car. “It’s where you live.”

  Denny nodded. “Yep. Yep. Alone. No Rush, no Pure, no Sterling, no Quick, no Mom, no Dad. Nada. It’s jusht a big ol’ fat empty fat house and me.”

  Brianna nodded as she drove out of the parking lot.

  “She’s gone. Vanished.”

  “Where did she go?”

  Denny closed her eyes. “Ghost napped. Someone stole her right out from under me.”

  Brianna cut her eyes at Denny, who was slouched way down in the seat. “Excuse me?”

  “Someone took her.” Denny opened her eyes and tried to focus on the windshield.

  “Took her? How do you take a ghost?”

  Leaning her head against the window, Denny closed her eyes. “Yeah. It’s complicated.”

  “That’s what you said about your girlfriend. Where is she, anyway?” Brianna looked as closely as she could at Denny while driving.

  Denny shook her head. “I told you...stolen. Some fucker came in an’ took ‘er. Jusht took her and held her hoshtage.” Denny continued to mutter incoherently about ghosts, demons, and putting an end to it all the whole time Brianna was driving her home.

  When they finally pulled up to the Holbrook House, Brianna parked out front. “Nice digs, Golden Silver. I’ve driven by here many times and admired the architecture of these homes, but there’s something regal about yours.”

  She opened the car door and helped Denny stand up. “Can you walk for me?”

  Denny managed a nod.

  Putting her arms around Denny’s waist, Brianna helped her up the porch stairs one step at a time. Twice, they almost toppled over, but Brianna managed to hold her balance and keep them from falling.

  “Which room?”

  “Way up there. We’ll never make it.”

  Brianna looked at the inside stairs. “Yeah. No shit. Is there a guest room?”

  “Right over there. Through that room.” Denny stumbled slightly, but Brianna held her up and sat Denny down on the edge of the guest room bed to start taking her shoes off.

  “I don’t drink.”

  Brianna looked up at her and grinned. “You don’t say.”

  “I do say. I say I don’t. I think...I’m all sortsa jacked up.”

  “Yes you are. Do you sleep in pajamas?”

  Denny fell back on the bed. “Nope. Can’t feel a ghost through pajamas, ya know?”

  Brianna tossed a shoe in the corner. “No, I don’t. Do you?”

  Running her hands through her hair, Denny tried to open her eyes but couldn’t. “Sure I do. Who do you think my girlfriend is, shilly?”

  “Are you telling me—”

  “That my misshing ghost is alsho my misshing girlfriend? Yeah. I am. How fucked up is that?”

  “Pretty fucked up, Denny Silver. Pretty damn fucked up.”

  ****

  Denny’s Journal

  I woke up feeling like someone had split my head in two with Paul Bunyan’s dull ax and then marched through my mouth with muddy army boots on. As my fuzzy eyes adjusted to the surroundings, I realized I was in the guest room.

  Guest room. Woman. Clothes.

  Brianna.

  Oh god. I turned my head, half expecting her to be next to me.

  She wasn’t, but a note was. I sighed with relief that I hadn’t done anything dumber than get wasted.

  And that was dumb.

  I would have read it, if I didn’t have a knife sticking in my eye and two or three hatchets embedded in my head. My god, it felt like I’d been beaten up. My head...how can people do that every weekend? My tongue tasted like I’d licked every ashtray and parking sign in town.

  That reminded me. My car.

  I couldn’t have driven it home, right? I mean, I remember Brianna taking my shoes off and...

  I whipping up the covers and was relieved to see I was in my pajamas. My flannel ones. The ones with the ghosts that glow in the dark.

  Yeah, pretty damned sexy.

  I let the covers fall back, happy to know I hadn’t done something rash like sleep with Brianna. Rush may have been missing, but I’m no cheater...even if she is a ghost.

  Rubbing sleep the size of gravel from my eyes, I slowly rolled over and read the note.

  Great pajamas. Really? Hope you’re feeling better. I’ll be at the coffee shop until two. Come by for some when you get up. On the house, of course. There was absolutely no edible food here, so I’ll spring for something easy on your belly. Take some aspirin and a hot shower and you’ll feel a little better. A little. Hope to see you later—B.

  Her handwriting was flawless and she’d managed to cluck over me without being obnoxious. I wondered if Pure had seen her—Then I remembered what drove me to the bar in the first place.

  Pure.

  Had she come home or had she stayed over at that c
retin’s house?

  I rolled out of bed and carefully slipped on a pair of ripped jeans and a white button-down shirt. After brushing my teeth until my gums bled, I grabbed my keys out of the pocket and headed down stairs.

  To my surprise, there Pure sat with a huge bowl of Fruit Loops in front of her, her head in it like she wished it would swallow her whole.

  “We need to talk,” she said.

  “Yes, we most certainly do.”

  ****

  Denny slid onto the stool next to Pure’s and reached for the box of cereal.

  “You look like shit and stink like a brewery. What the fuck, Denny? You don’t drink.”

  She almost said, “language,” in that annoying way Sterling did, but caught herself in time. “This is what a half a bottle of Jameson’s looks like in the morning. Not pretty.”

  “You got that right. You smell sour. You never drink.”

  “Yeah, well now we know why.”

  Pure poured a second bowl of cereal and pushed it over to Denny. “You’ll feel better if you get something in your stomach.”

  “Thanks.” Denny crunched on a spoonful of cereal that was far too sugary for her taste.

  “Now, before we get all up in each other’s faces about last night,” Pure said. “What in the hell is going on with you? Arguing with me about a stupid boy wouldn’t normally be enough to send you into a drinking flurry, so what’s the deal?”

  Denny swallowed and then pushed the floaty and colorful O’s around in the milk. “Rush is missing.”

  Pure stared at her. “Wait. Missing?”

  Denny nodded. “Some sort of...I don’t know...evil force has her. It’s a long story.”

  “Oh, Denny, I’m so sorry I’ve been so wrapped up in my own little world, I—” Pure shook her head. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I’ve just been coming and going, not paying any attention.”

  “You’re seventeen. It’s what you’re supposed to be doing, Pure, not worrying about the family ghost.”

  “Well, no wonder you’re bummed and acting like a lunatic. If something has her, what can we do?”

  Denny ate another spoonful and shrugged. “Not much we can do. I’m running down all leads, but finding a ghost is…well…challenging to say the least. I’m sorry if I embarrassed you last night, and I’m sorry for being such a bitch about Mike Cockerton. I’ve just been on edge lately.”