The Demon Within Page 5

  “Yeah. Just what I thought.”

  ****

  Night fell and Denny dressed in her usual night gear of jeans, knee-high Doc Marten boots, and a black leather jacket. It had taken her dozens of stores to find a leather jacket with deep enough inner pockets to hold Fouet and Epee. Normally, she just wore the special vest Ames had made for her but it was still drying from being washed the night before.

  Looking in the mirror, she barely recognized herself. Her cheekbones were gaunt, her eyes dull, and her clothes hung loosely off her shoulders. Yeah, she was losing weight—probably too much—but food just held no appeal for her, not even the delicious looking meals Brianna had left for her. Those were keeping the feral cats fat and happy.

  Ames had warned her of this—that if she wasn’t careful she would spend more time feeding the Hanta than herself.

  Apparently, that was true.

  “I have the perfect weight loss plan, Rush. It’s called Eat An Ounce of Evil, Drop a Pound.” Denny chuckled as she cinched her belt one more notch. She knew she should eat, but every day, food tasted more and more like sawdust to her. “It’s go time.”

  Go time took Denny into the dark underbelly of Savannah once more. Walking though sinister alleys and darker parks, she made her way to the Black Stallion Bar.

  Once there, she bellied back up to the battered bar hoping the bartender at the other end was the man she was looking for.

  “What’ll it be, hon?” The no-neck of a man asked.

  “Shotta Jameson.”

  He poured her a tall shot and set it in front of her, his eyes narrowing as he studied her.

  “You Rocky?” she asked.

  His eyebrow rose in question. “That depends on who wants to know.” He turned from her and addressed a lean Asian man wearing a yellow tank top that said he’d eaten Banana Rama.

  The Asian glanced over at two men who rose and slid onto stools on either side of her.

  “Yeah, he’s Rocky. What’s your name?”

  Denny looked from one to the other. They appeared to be nothing but harmless bar flies who underestimated the strength of a woman. “Golden Silver.”

  “Seriously?” The one on her left spat as he spoke.

  Denny nodded. “Who would make that shit up?”

  The shorter one on her right appraised her, his eyes scanning her face and body. “You know you’re in a gay bar, right?”

  Denny felt her patience slipping as the Hanta wanted nothing more than to pound their faces in. “Why does everyone keep asking me that? Yes, I know I’m in a gay bar. Look at me! Do I look straight?”

  The two men exchanged glances. “Uh, no. Not exactly.”

  “We just wondered is all. We don’t like cops and shit coming in here to harass us.”

  Denny forced a grin she didn’t feel. “I’m not a cop, but I am the shit. I just came to talk to Rocky.”

  “Rocky or Ricky?”

  Denny tilted her head to the guy on her left. He could have been a Chippendale—he was that good looking. “You messing with me?”

  “They’re twins. That one there is Ricky. You can tell ‘cause he’s got lighter hair. Whatcha wanting him for?”

  Denny pounded back the shot and tossed a ten on the bar. “Do you happen to know when Rocky works?”

  “He don’t come in until after ten.”

  Sliding off the stool, Denny thanked them before heading out the door.

  She was about thirty yards away when she felt it. It rolled up over her spine and tickled the base of her skull. The Hanta rose to life.

  Slowly turning, she saw Ricky jogging toward her, his man boobs in need of a manzier, a Seinfeld funny for a bra for men with boobs.

  “You a cop?” He asked as he neared. “Those guys said you weren’t, but you sure act like one.”

  “Don’t really know what a cop acts like.” Denny fully faced him, feeling the Hanta. “Why do you care, anyway?”

  “What do you want with my brother?”

  The moon lit up the dirty parking lot, lengthening all sorts of bizarre shadows that appeared more like hand shadow puppets than real shadows.

  “Someone told me he might have the answers to some questions I have.”

  Ricky looked around before stepping closer. “Take my advice and leave him alone. He’s not one you want to bother.”

  “No can do, my friend. I understand he might—”

  “You don’t understand shit. My brother...he’s not...I don’t know. He doesn’t like being questioned. If you’re smart, you’ll let go of whatever questions you got and move on with your life.”

  Denny stepped closer to him. He was a good six inches taller than she was. “You sound scared of him. Why on earth would you be afraid of your twin?”

  “Not scared. He...he’s changed. I just...I don’t want to see anyone get hurt is all.”

  “And why would you suspect he would hurt me? He doesn’t even know me.”

  Ricky stepped away. “I don’t…I don’t really know. He’s unpredictable now, that’s all. Look. You seem nice enough. Like I said, do yourself a favor and leave Rocky alone.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate the heads up. I’ll think about what you’ve said.” Denny watched as Ricky jogged back to the bar, certain that the change Ricky was seeing was due to demonic influences. It was pretty clear this brother was frightened.

  If Rocky was possessed, that meant she couldn’t outright kill him, and that was no good. She would have to find another way to get him to talk.

  “Come on, Rush. Let’s see what else we can dig up.” Denny casually walked through the red light district on River Street, her senses keen to any demonic activity she might run across. Not that the Hanta was hungry. It wasn’t. She just wanted the action.

  She didn’t pick any danger up...at least, not from demons, but there was plenty of negative energy from humans—enough to fill a stadium.

  As she strolled along, she wondered if her mother ever walked the streets looking for demons. Did she actively hunt or wait for trouble to crop up where she least expected it? She’d need to get deeper into her mom’s journal, but doing so…well…it hurt her heart.

  Denny couldn’t imagine trying to do this with a family...with children. How did she manage to juggle a family with demon hunting? It was beyond her.

  As the night grew darker, the noise became louder as people spilled out into the streets. She used to be one of those happy-go-lucky people who socialized, laughing and enjoying the beauty that is Savannah at night.

  That felt like a lifetime ago.

  Now, she was a creature of the dark—staying up all night, sleeping in until noon. Her body didn’t know if she was coming or going. It didn’t seem to care. She didn’t seem to care.

  Just as she rounded a corner, she came to a bar called The Office. She remembered that Quick used to hang out at this bar, so it was as good a place as any to continue digging.

  As she headed for the door, a heavyset black guy called her name. Turning, she saw one of Quick’s old friends coming up the walkway.

  “Well, if it isn’t Golden Silver.”

  Denny grinned. “Oscar…Didion. How the hell are you?” Denny hugged him to her for a brief moment. He smelled of Axe cologne and marijuana, a not unfamiliar odor that hovered around Quick’s usual crowd.

  “I’m good, man. Good. I’m sorry about your bro’, man. That shit stinks.”

  Denny moved away from the door so others could enter. “Yeah, it does. You know what else stinks? How none of his friends stood up for him. How none of his friends call him. How none of his friends will drive to Atlanta to visit him.”

  Oscar jammed his hands into his pockets and looked away. “I keep meaning to, but life gets in the way, ya know?”

  “What I know, Oscar, is he has no life to get in his way. Look, go or don’t go. It doesn’t matter to me. What matters is helping him get out of jail, and you can help me with that.”

  “You bustin’ him loose or something?”

>   “No. What I need from you is a list of all the guys Quick hung out with in the last month before the murder.”

  Oscar’s head shot up. “Why you need that?”

  Before Denny could answer, two of Oscar’s buddies joined them. They reeked of sour mash and weed.

  “Lookie here, Tony. If it ain’t one a’ the Silver girls.” The heavyset bald guy looked ridiculous wearing his shades behind his head.

  “I’ll meet you guys inside,” Oscar said. “We’re busy out here.”

  Tony’s eyebrows rose like they were moving independently from the rest of his face. “Busy? Oh man, now that Q is gone, we’re allowed to get busy with his little sisters?” Tony stepped closer, leering like a cartoon wolf.

  “Fuck off, T. We’re talkin’ is all.”

  Tony stood eye-to-eye with Denny, who felt the familiar sensation of warm honey flowing through her veins. She almost felt sorry for this cretin.

  “Well, little sister, I sure as shit do more than just talk.”

  As Tony raised his hand toward Denny, her hand shot out, grabbed his in a thumb lock and drove him to his knees.

  Both Oscar and the other guy jumped back as Tony howled.

  “Listen here, you fat piece of shit,” Denny growled. “Don’t you ever presume to touch me again. If you so much as look at me cross eyed, I’ll fucking tear your eyeballs out and feed them to you for lunch. You understand?”

  Tony blinked as his face contorted with pain. “God damn, I was just messin’—”

  Denny applied more torque. “No messin’. No touchin’. No teasin’. Nothing. Not me or any other woman in my family. Are we clear?”

  Tony winced. “Yeah! Yeah. Let go my fuckin’ hand!”

  Denny lowered her face to his, her voice changing slightly. “Are you an idiot? All you had to do was say yes. ‘Yes, we’re clear.’ How hard was that, you fucking moron?” With a twist of her hand, she bent his wrist back. At least, she thought it was her that did it. She watched Tony fall to the ground with detachment, but in the back of her mind rang a little alarm. Maybe it was the Hanta that wanted to break his wrist. It wasn’t always easy to tell. Maybe she—it—whoever, had gone a little too far. But she couldn’t’ get distracted with that right now. She had some answers to find.

  Tony howled once more. “Mother fucker! You almost broke my fuckin’ arm!” Tony grabbed his wrist as he scrambled to his feet and backed away.

  “It was your wrist, dumbass, and that’s what happens when you treat people with disrespect.” Denny cut her eyes over to the other guy. “You want some of this, too? I’ve got plenty of mean to go around.”

  He backed away, stammering, “No. No. I’m good.”

  “No, you’re not. None of you are. You’re the shittiest friends on the planet but I am going to give you a chance to redeem yourselves. You have twenty-four hours to bring me a list of names of guys who were hanging with my brother one or two months before Lisa was killed. Male, female, I don’t care. I want that list yesterday, so don’t make me come after you. You wouldn’t like seeing me angry. Leave it for me here. Now, fuck off.”

  Tony and his friend scurried away, leaving a wide-eyed and open-mouthed Oscar standing alone.

  “You were saying?”

  “I…I’ll have the list tomorrow night.”

  Denny wiped her hands on her jeans. “Good answer. You tell all of Quick’s friends to cough up a list or I’m coming after them. You let everyone know that I am going to find the real killer, and when I do…” she shook her head. “Just let them know what happens when someone gets in my way.”

  As Denny started away from the bar, Oscar called out to her, “Denny?”

  “Yeah?”

  “How...How did you do that?”

  Denny flashed a grin that felt awkward on her face. “Haven’t you heard? I’m possessed.”

  With that, she threw her head back and laughed, leaving Oscar shaken and wondering if Quick’s little sister had lost her mind.

  ****

  After stopping at a few more bars to deliver the same message, Denny headed for her thinking spot in the cemetery. There was something about the Bonaventure Cemetery that stilled her mind and eased her incredibly conflicted spirit. Its natural cathedral and sculpted garden, while stunning in the light, were serene at night in a way only those traveling in the armpits of Savannah would understand or even notice.

  The shadows alone would keep the bravest souls out. It was as if they moved with even the slightest wind, and when there was no moon, the darkness was like a blanket wrapping its arms around you.

  It was not a place for the faint of heart.

  Denny was certainly not that, but what the cemetery gave her was some much needed peace in her life. So much had started spiraling out of control after she spoke to her mother…after she realized that Quick might not be guilty after all. This cemetery was on her rounds and it gave her a reason to pause for a moment to take a breath, to take note of things...most especially what had happened to Quick’s defense.

  Denny had been so wrapped up in her first year of college that Quick’s arrest and charge of multiple horrific murders had seemed surreal. She’d thought it all a case of mistaken identity, never realizing, until too late, that he was going down for this heinous crime…that he had actually been there when Lisa and her parents had been killed.

  And though she had “been there” for him, she hadn’t, really. She’d relied on public defenders and a broken legal system to find justice...like expecting a blind man in a barn to find a particular piece of hay.

  She’d watched helplessly as her brother received a sentence of life in prison.

  She had done nothing.

  Maybe she’d felt powerless to do anything. Maybe she realized, too late, that she’d placed her faith in a system that failed on a daily basis.

  Then the Hanta appeared, giving her both power and the understanding that it wasn’t too late to help Quick. She had what it took to get to the truth, and she wouldn’t stop digging. She wouldn’t give up until she found—

  “You know, just because you’re possessed doesn’t mean you have to wander around at night like some ghoulish cliché. I mean, come on. You’ve been watching too many Hollywood horror flicks because this?” the intruder waved her hand in the air. “This is nutso. If you aren’t careful, you’ll be nutso soon.”

  Denny stared through the dark night from her perch on top of a marble mausoleum, her Hanta-upgraded eyes seeing easily through the murkiness of the evening.

  Brianna Stuart.

  “How did you find me?”

  “It’s good seeing you, too.” Brianna slung her purse strap over her head and proceeded to climb up. Denny offered no help.

  “No, seriously. How?”

  Sitting next to Denny, Brianna studied her and then finally shook her head slowly. “Goddess, even in the dark you look like shit. Apparently, you have not been eating the food I’ve left. I noticed a couple of really fat feral cats lurking around the door.”

  Denny looked a little too long into Brianna’s face before turning away. Her blond hair tied in a ponytail revealed all of the angles of her pretty face. She had lips Victor had once called Jolie lips, after Angelina Jolie: plump, soft, red, and kissable. Denny had wanted to kiss those once. That once felt like a lifetime ago.

  “Were you following me?”

  Brianna sighed a sound of frustration. “Jesus, Denny, after almost a month of no contact and all you care about is how I found you? I’m a witch, for Christ’s sake. You’re possessed. Do the math. Can we just leave it at that?”

  Denny looked away at a distant gravestone, and the Hanta relaxed.

  “You know, Denny, most women would have just given up on you.”

  Denny turned back to her. “Most women would have made the smart choice of moving on.”

  Brianna retied her pony tail. “Luckily for you I am not most women.” Brianna leaned closer, examining Denny’s face. “Jesus, you really do look like shit. What in
the hell is happening to you?”

  “Not getting much sun?”

  “No, seriously. Are you okay?”

  “I am.”

  Brianna waited for more that didn’t come. The eerie silence surrounded them like the walls of some paranormal cocoon. “Look, I don’t know what all happened back there a month ago, but I’m your friend. Let me help.”

  “Who said I needed help?”

  “Seriously. You’d have to be blind not to see that you are clearly in distress. One look at you with my eyes tells me you’re not okay. One feel of you with my senses and it’s confirmed. You are so not okay.”

  “Is that Brianna my friend, or Brianna the witch making that assessment?”

  “Both. Look, I’m sure this cold, prickly routine of yours has scared others away, but I’m a witch, Denny. I see right through this tough girl charade of yours. So, since we’re both out on this lovely night atop a mausoleum, why don’t you just give up the act and talk to me?”

  The moon cast a light on Brianna that made her look like a younger version of herself.

  “What do you want to talk about?”

  “What happened to you after you sent those demons packing? You’ve dropped out of school, your friends are worried sick, and you’re prowling around cemeteries at night. You’re clearly not eating. I doubt you’re even sleeping. Have I missed anything?”

  A protracted silence followed her question. When Denny finally spoke, her voice was barely audible. “Rush left me.”

  Brianna tilted her head. “Left you? As in—”

  “As in I’ve not seen her since you came to the house that night. That’s what made me realize that I had a choice to make. I can either embrace the demon within me and find out who really killed Lisa and her family, or I can walk away from Quick and the legacy to be with my sisters and my friends.”

  “So you chose the former.”

  Denny shrugged. “There never really was a choice, was there? The only real option was whether or not I would choose to put those I care about in harm’s way, so I made the only decision open to me.”

  “Oohhhh,” Brianna said, pulling a knee to her chest. “I get it. You’re detaching from everyone who cares about you to keep them safe.”