Read Online Blood of the Demon (The Silver Legacy Book 3) by Alex Westmore - Free Book Online Page A

said nothing, Cassandra reached down inside Denny’s jeans and continued. “It is no surprise to me, Hunter. You wear your heart on your sleeve. Fortunately for you, it is not your heart I am interested in”
    Cassandra pulled her hand out and started for the door, her robe now securely around her. At the door she turned once more and withdrew a business card from her pocket. “Here. She is expecting you. Call upon her the moment you land.”
    Denny slowly took the card. “Land?”
    “Come now, surely you now know I am aware of nearly every move you make. I, for one, think it a mistake to go to New Orleans. It is bad business there and you know so little of the supernatural world in which we live. I fear for your impetuous self.”
    Denny sought words that never came.
    “You cannot hope to navigate the shark-infested waters of a city like New Orleans without aid. I offer you my connections because I prefer your return in one piece so that we may continue enjoying each other’s bodies.” Cassandra lightly kissed Denny’s forehead. “One piece, Hunter. Remember that.” With that, Cassandra was gone.
    “She’s fucking scary,” Rush said from the top of the stairs. She was wearing a purple leather mini skirt, and a bright yellow blouse. A huge gold peace sign hung from her neck. “Seriously, Den, could you have picked a more aggressive woman?”
    “Pretty sure she chose me.”
    Rush waited for Denny at the top of the staircase. “You’re up to your eyeballs in witches, baby. If you’re not really careful, you’ll start some kind of Wiccan brouhaha.”
    Climbing the stairs two at a time, Denny then entered the lair. Peyton’s entry was still unfinished. “Shit.”
    “I know it might be inviting and fun to have women fighting over you, but not when it’s two witches. I mean, how do you know one if not both haven’t put some sort of sexual spell on you? May Ling says they do it all the time.”
    “Ya know, Rush, I really don’t have the time or energy to worry about that right now. I need to go to New Orleans to see if Peyton is all right.” Gathering her weapons, her leathers and one of her books about Wiccans, Denny locked up the lair and headed back downstairs.
    “Den?”
    “Yeah?”
    “Please be careful. Don’t bite off more than you can chew, okay?”
    Denny quickly tossed her clothes in a duffel bag, grabbed her keys, and started for the door. “Oh, Rush, I’m pretty sure I took that bite a long, long time ago.”
    ***
    D enny stood on the corner of Bourbon Street and St. Ann and took in the sights and sounds of the vibrant French Quarter. She felt like she was standing inside a loud kaleidoscope. The entire place filled her senses to overload, but she loved it. All of it. The fried food smells, the jazz bands playing, the corner juggler. It was so incredibly alive.
    Pulling out the business card Cassandra had handed to her, Denny looked at the address before programming it into her phone.
    Crossing the street, she tried to place the many smells wafting into her nostrils. Sweet and sour underneath the smell of fried food and a scent she’d know anywhere: chicory coffee. The only coffee Ames made.
    It wasn’t just the aroma, either, or the noise. The architecture made the French Quarter stand tall and proud, like a child who had just learned to tie her shoes. It was enigmatic and purposeful, mysterious and in-your-face, all at once. Denny wasn’t surprised that all she wanted to do was eat.
    It took her ten minutes to find the address, upstairs in an odd green shotgun house wedged between two larger houses. As she climbed the stairs, she felt eyes watching her.
    Eyes were all over the French Quarter. Denny felt them the moment she stepped foot onto Bourbon Street.
    A legacy hunter had arrived and the supernatural world was taking note. She could feel it. Watching her every move.
    Yes, she had arrived and her Hanta was wide awake and vigilant, and for that, Denny was pleased. She hoped she