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

still. If it didn’t scare the crap out of you, you were an adversary Denny didn’t want to face.
    “Wrong hunter,” Denny growled, backing into a position where she could see all but two of her attackers.
    They all seemed to defer to the guy with the neck tattoo, so Denny kept her eyes on him. Fouet whipped and cracked around her like handheld lightning.
    “Who you?”
    “Of all the cool answers I could give, your death is the coolest, so I’ll go with that.” Denny took one step toward him. Fouet sparked and hissed with the sound of arcane electricity.
    “Boss, we took da hunter out, man. I dunno who dis bitch is.”
    “Clean your ears out, Bubba Gump. I am your death.” With one flick of her wrist, Fouet cleanly sliced through two demons, cutting them nearly in half before anyone could move. They exploded into chunks of meat that sprayed all over the ground in a ten-foot radius.
    The demons widened their circle.
    “Yeah, I’d stand back too,” Denny snarled, releasing the Hanta within. “Because each one of you is going to wind up lumps of smoldering flesh when I’m through with you.”
    Tattoo looked left then right, as if unsure of himself. “You can’t take alla us at once.”
    Denny felt the full force of the Hanta inside her. “No? Why don’t we just test that theory?” Whirling around, she cut down the nearest demon with Epée as it sliced from the right shoulder through the left hip. When the two halves were severed completely and started to slide away from each other, each half blew up, scattering more demon detritus everywhere.
    A severed foot landed near her and Denny pivoted to her left, snapping Fouet around and decapitating the lone demon smart enough to try to run away. He, too, blew to smithereens.
    With demon guts all over her, Denny returned her attention to Tattoo, who had pulled a Glock on her and held it gangster style.
    “So long, bitch.”
    With the Hanta’s superior vision, she started moving as his finger slowly depressed the trigger. It was almost as if the Hanta had slowed down time. Her body in mid-twist, she dodged to the left just as the bullet exited the muzzle.
    The bullet missed her completely.
    Half a second later, she swung Epée in Tattoo’s direction and the hand holding the Glock fell to the dirty pavement below, still clutching the gun.
    The rest of the demons scattered back to the darkness from which they’d come.
    “You fucking bitch! You cut off my hand!”
    “Yes, but lucky for you, Epée cauterized it so you won’t bleed out. Not yet anyway.”
    Denny looked around. “Looks like you buddies left the party early. Bet that happens a lot here.”
    Tattoo glanced down at the gun.
    “Oh please make a move for it, asshole. Please. Make my night.” Denny’s voice and her body was hers once more.
    “Why are you here? This ain’t none a your business.”
    “I’m afraid that’s where you’re mistaken. Where is Peyton Farquar, the hunter?”
    Tattoo shrugged. “Not a clue. You know what’s good for you and—”
    “What’s good for me, asshole, is killing demons like you and gobbling up your oh-so-tainted souls for a quick fast food snack. I’ve tired of your pock marked face. You got nothing I need.” Denny drew Epée back when Tattoo dove for the gun with his good hand.
    He ended up leaving his second hand lying next to the first one.
    “Motherfucker!” He howled, holding up two stumps from the dirty ground.
    “I’ve been called worse. Way worse.”
    Tattoo lay on the ground, gawking at his handless wrists. “You cut my hands off you fucking—”
    Denny placed Epée inches from his neck. “Enough of that word, jackass. Get up.”
    Tattoo struggled to rise.
    “I know you all think the legacy hunter is gone, but I am picking up where Peyton left off and I will begin clearing this city first thing in the morning. Low or high level, it doesn’t matter to me. I’ll keep cutting you all in half until one of you tells me where the fuck Peyton