The Devil's Daughter Complete Box Set, page 101
part #1 of The Devil's Daughter Series
“Sounds like you’ve been a busy girl.” Chloe pulled a phone from her dress. “Anyone else I should conference in?”
“That depends. How are things going in life?” Though Sere remained focused on her hell adventure, that didn’t mean Marjory was just sitting on Sere’s ass. The woman had to be up to something.
“According to Kendell’s spies among the homeless population, more than a few members of the Laroque family failed to show up to work.”
Sere wondered where the woman was stashing her relatives. She doubted they were hanging out in either basement with the other monsters or druggies. “If Marjory thinks she has all the pieces, she’s going to start experimenting with building her toys.”
Sanguine held her wings over her head to keep the rain off of her. “She still doesn’t have access to the professor’s computer. Even if she does manage to combine human and doppelgänger, they won’t be immortal without the data needed to regenerate. The doppelenergy from those dragons of hers will be sucked dry with the demons’ first skirmish.”
Sere had forgotten how helpful Sanguine could be in seeing the bigger picture. “That would explain why she’s been staying out of sight. She doesn’t want to start a war until she’s ready.”
Chloe started punching the phone’s screen. “I’ve texted your questions to those involved. I’m also calling in Polly and the professor. They’ve got some questions about what Marjory is up to with your body.”
Sere wanted to tell her to stop, but the truth was that she was a little curious herself. “I doubt I know much more than they do, but our talks do occasionally kick things loose that I hadn’t considered.” While Chloe dabbled with her screen, Sere turned to Doodlebug. “What did you find out on your tour of the Northshore?”
With arms crossed and feet spread, the girl looked ready for a fight. “No one’s seen Aloysius, though I still believe he didn’t go through the vault system.”
“Trust your feelings. I know that’s not natural coming from hell,” Sere said. If she and Bart were going to conduct their operation, someone would need to distract Marjory, and only Doodlebug had experience facing down demons. “How are you set for doing battle?”
“Even if I could get at the demons, I can’t go up against a horde of hell’s creatures on my own.”
The girl was going to need help, and Sere was running short of allies she could trust in either dimension. “Get on your motorcycle and ride north. About ten miles before you hit Bart’s bar, you’ll run into a dirt parking lot and a shack called Riley’s. The woman has tried to kill me more than once.”
“I like her already,” Doodlebug grumbled.
“My point being, she’s not afraid of going up against doppelgängers, and her customers can be a rough bunch. They don’t like me, but they do owe me a favor. If you can’t find enough help among the gator hunters, continue up to Bart’s. The bikers up there are more talk than fight, but not a one of them would let their favorite bartender rot in hell. Your first priority is still to find Aloysius. He’s the only confirmed devil at this point.” Sere wished she could point the girl toward Gerald, but as he was the devil’s grandfather, she didn’t dare test his loyalties until she could do so in person. “Just locate Aloysius—don’t go up against him.”
The girl lowered her head and clenched her fists. “I’m not stupid. I have no intention of confronting that bastard until you’re back here and we’re at full force. He’s already ripped my spirit to pieces once.”
Sere nodded. “Knowing where he is and what he’s up to will help when it’s finally time to confront him. Marjory’s other creations, however, are fair game should you run across them. That will at least give you an outlet for your aggression.”
“I’m on it.” The girl turned away and walked out of the projection just as the professor’s lab materialized along with Kendell and Myles’s living room.
Sere shook her head. “You’ve just gotta love that doppelgänger directness. No waiting around to listen in on pointless ramblings.”
Kendell set a book on a table. “The jars should be filled with liquid. Simply breaking them might disrupt the mirror signal, but I can’t answer for what would happen in hell.”
Fat lot of good that does me, Sere thought. I figured that out for myself. Saying the caustic response out loud, however, wasn’t going to bring the answer any closer. “Is there something we could pour the jars into? Or maybe burn the totems? There has to be some way to break the voodoo spell without risking Bart and his mercenaries.”
Kendell turned the page. “The totems are interdimensional—basically, the voodoo version of the World Trade Center’s vaults. If you tried to destroy them, you’d only lose access to them in hell’s dimension.”
Sere wished she had the freedom to turn and walk away like Doodlebug. “Come up with something usable.”
In his office, Fisher waved a file folder as if trying to distract Sere from her frustration with Kendell. “I’ve got the blueprints. I’ve texted them to Chloe so she can have Bernie study them. Once he has them memorized, they should download into the dragon’s computerized brain.”
She could already see the blue page with white lines. “Perfect. Too bad we can’t do the same with Bart.”
“Here we go.” Kendell leaned over the leather-bound journal. “Mmm.”
Flames erupted from Sere’s snout. “You do realize that this human habit of delaying when you have bad news just pisses me off, don’t you?”
Kendell put her hand on the page and looked into Sere’s eyes from the monitor. “There’s only one way to turn those jars into spirit mirrors while retaining the doppelgänger essences in the dragon bodies. Marjory removed the souls of the stoners and sent them to hell while the gate was open, then Madam Laroque instilled those spirits into her totems. It’s similar to what your father did to you and Jenna, but in your case, Jenna was instilled into the soulless cormorant body instead of a totem. The spell is basically the same. Those unfortunates in the Laroque basement aren’t just high—they’re zombies.”
The fire that had been wafting up from Sere’s nose shot clear across the meadow. “So we can’t dump the jars without killing the eight street kids, consigning their ghosts to hell, and pissing off Baron Samedi. Somehow, we need to return the souls to the living. This is impossible!”
Kendell’s forced-calm tone was one Sere had heard repeatedly during her emotional teenage years. “While you and Bart are gathering the jars, I’ll figure out a solution. Just focus on the job ahead of you.”
“Yes, Mom,” Sere said, knowing the familiar words would have an odd impact coming out of the mouth of a dragon. On cue, Kendell snickered.
Polly rapped on the desk, demanding Sere’s attention. “Now, what exactly does Marjory want with your body? We’ve been wracking our brains but can’t come up with a logical explanation. You’re immortal, but that’s based as much on your soul as on that doppelgänger body. With her inside it, the body will decay like that of any other doppelgänger. And since she’s not pretending to be you, what does she gain?”
Sere stretched out her wings. Being in one spot for so long made her back hurt all the way down her tail. “It’s never just about one thing with Marjory. Having my body gives her a bargaining chip with the Cormorant and potential access to the professor’s computer.”
Polly stood next to the professor, who sat in his chair. “But she could have achieved those things by abducting you. Why go to the work of a full-on possession?”
Sanguine’s wings fluttered. “Jenna isn’t the only one who’s been after you, body and soul.”
A cold chill ran from the claws of Sere’s feet to the fangs that jutted out over her jaw. “I have an arrangement with Baron Samedi. He wouldn’t dare try to claim my soul.”
Kendell closed the leather journal. “I doubt Marjory cares about your deal with the dead. As the most powerful businesswoman in New Orleans, she’s hijacked more than a few ironclad agreements. Exchanging access to your soul with the ruler of the afterlife might gain her serious voodoo points.”
Flames curled up from Sere’s mouth. “You think she’d offer to exchange one immortal for another—my soul returns to the deep waters, so hers gets to remain among the living forever?” Much as she hated to admit it, the plan had a certain evil logic to it.
“We’re just trying to see all of the options,” Kendell said. “It wouldn’t be the first time one soul was bargained for another.”
“That was different.” Myles sat down on the couch next to Kendell. “We gave Baron Malveaux’s soul to Samedi in exchange for an innocent.”
Sere was well acquainted with the story of how her father had been added to the deep waters in place of her. “I’m hardly an innocent now.”
“A deal is a deal,” Myles said. “I’ll reinforce our position with Baron Samedi. He’s not going to be happy that Marjory is planning multiple immortals.”
Sere didn’t need another contestant in the battle for life. “Go easy on him. If he thinks she’s making a move on the afterlife, he might come tearing into life with an army of the dead. I’ve got enough to contend with as it is.”
Myles’s expression eased from harsh determination to fatherly compassion. “He’ll listen to me. You need to stay focused on stopping Marjory.”
95
Chapter 10
Doodlebug repeatedly turned the throttle of the old Harley as far as it would go in a futile attempt at making the motorcycle go faster. “If people can build a vehicle that can do two hundred miles an hour, why would anyone bother with something that can’t even get out of its own way?” An eighteen-wheel logging truck zoomed past her in the opposite direction, nearly knocking the bike off the road in its wake.
Being little more than a messenger girl pissed Doodlebug off. “At least in hell, I had a say in my missions.” She zoomed past the small ramshackle bars. Stopping at them on the way down to Joe’s cabin had proven excruciatingly boring. More than once, she wanted to scream out that she was the Doppel Avenger, out to rid the world of demons, but the drunks would have just laughed in her face. Being hit on by the fat tubs was even worse. They all wanted to be her “daddy,” as if that was somehow supposed to be a turn-on. Not one of them had mentioned running across a devil out in the swamp.
“This is ridiculous.” She leaned low over the gas tank and clamped her legs over the throbbing engine. If she was going to find Aloysius, she’d have to take charge of the hunt. Sere’s father might have been hell’s original devil, but that didn’t give her any insight into how the monsters thought. Though a worthy mentor and inspiration, Sere didn’t have half of the fighting experience that Doodlebug had. People had always been watching out for Sere in hell then laid out life’s red carpet for her escape. “Hell’s little princess.”
By contrast, Doodlebug saw herself as an exact representation of her real: a street kid who had to use her wits and skills to survive. As she rounded a bend in the road, she spotted the sign for Riley’s bar. She had to take charge of her situation, but that didn’t mean she had to refuse help. She swung the glorified motor scooter into the dirt parking lot and killed the twin pistons that created more vibration than speed.
Pushing her way through the swinging doors, she felt like a gunfighter ready for action. She sidled up to the end of the bar, hoping not to draw too much attention to herself from the drunks.
The bartender’s tank top and cutoff jeans were so tight she could have borrowed them from her daughter. “Sweetie, you look a little young to be in a bar. I’m going to need to see some ID.”
Doodlebug reached under her shirt, pulled the Navy SEAL evasion knife from her belt, and set it on the bar.
The woman inspected the handle. “This is Bart’s blade.”
“I was told you could help me. I hear you know how to plug a demon.”
The woman’s hard eyes seemed to cut straight through Doodlebug. “Bart didn’t send you, did he?”
Doodlebug doubted she would have lied to the woman even if such a deception was in her nature. “Sere did. Bart’s working with her. We exchanged weapons as a sign of mutual trust and validation. Now, are you going to help me or not?”
Riley used the hand tap to dispense Coke into an ice-filled glass. “That depends. What do you need?”
Doodlebug wanted to ask her to add rum to the soda, but she thought better of it, not wanting to drink while asking for help. “There’s a devil on the loose, and I’m pretty sure he’s up here somewhere.”
“How do you know?”
“Call it a hunch.” The queasiness in Doodlebug’s gut had been getting more intense the closer she got to the swamp. Bart might have been right. If Aloysius was stressed, she might be feeling the effects.
Riley picked the knife back up and aimed it at Doodlebug. “You do realize that Bart’s navy training doesn’t come along with the weapon, right? I know a little bit about hell’s hierarchy of doppelgänger to demon to devil. Even Bart wouldn’t be so bold as to go up against an immortal with only this knife.”
Doodlebug wanted to reach for the weapon. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a child. I’m not going to kill the asshole, just see what he’s up to. Though if it’s killing that lights your fire, once I figure out what Aloysius is doing, I’m headed back to New Orleans to deal with his brothers and sisters.”
“Sounds like your plan requires more than just one bartender.”
Doodlebug looked down the counter at the overfed, drunk gator hunters. “I can use all of the help I can get, assuming it is help. I don’t need a bunch of lard-ass bumbling swamp toads announcing my presence.”
“You’re a snarky little bitch,” the closest tub said, his slurred speech indicating that he’d been on the stool for longer than the half-empty beer in front of him. “You remind me of that other snarky bitch. You two related?”
Riley slowly turned from her customer to Doodlebug. “Cody has a point. You’re not from around these parts, are you? I’d guess somewhere closer to where that bitch Sere called home.”
With Riley still fondling Bart’s knife like it was the big man’s dick, Doodlebug kept her hands on the edge of the bar. “It’s my understanding that you all owe her a debt of gratitude. I saw a number of new trucks and boat trailers in the parking lot. They wouldn’t have anything to do with the crawfish extravaganza she led you to, now, would they?”
Lard Ass’s stool sounded like it was bending in half as he turned toward her. “That’s between us and her, and you haven’t answered the question, little missy.”
Doodlebug snatched the knife from Riley and aimed it at the talking flesh pot. “I’m from hell, if that’s what you want to know, and I’ll happily take on the whole lot of you.”
Riley put her hands on the bar. “This doesn’t have to turn violent. Tell us about this devil you’re hunting.”
Doodlebug didn’t break eye contact with the overweight gator hunter, nor did she lower her weapon. “He’s a city boy but knows his way around the swamp.”
The big man took a swig of his beer as if having a knife pointed at him was a common occurrence. “So he’ll be hiding out in a building, not roughing it in the weeds. That’s a starting point.”
The feeling of being sick to her stomach ratcheted up by a factor of ten. The most logical place to start looking was where she’d last seen Aloysius. Since no one had bothered searching the island, there was a possibility he was still there. “There is a cabin deep in the swamp that he would know is empty.”
“I know the one.” Cody set the empty glass mug on the bar. “What do I get if I boat you out there?”
Riley snatched the glass and tossed it in the sink. “How about a break on your bar tab?”
“Thanks.” Doodlebug finally stashed her knife back in her pants. Riley’s offer to give one of her obviously valued customers a break on his tab was likely as close to an agreement as she was going to get from the sexy bartender. She just hoped the woman’s help extended beyond the cash register.
After hours stuck in the metal-hulled swamp boat, tooling along the rivers under the blazing sun, Doodlebug was the first to hop out and onto the island that had been the scene of so much activity in hell. “Wait for me in the field. If this goes badly, I’ll need you to get word to Sere’s friends.” Though Sere had told her simply to find the devil and not make contact, she wasn’t the boss in all things, living and damned, that she thought she was. “I’m gonna go talk to the asshole.”
Riley pulled the cell phone out from the hip of her cutoffs. “Bart gave me the emergency number.”
Doodlebug eyed the rifle in the boat hull, wondering if Riley would part with it, but if the conversation resulted in battle, the weapon would be better used to cover their escape than in combat. “Keep that thing handy. You won’t be able to kill him, but you might slow him down.”
“What about you? I hope you’re not relying on some supernatural ability imprinted on Bart’s knife,” Riley said.
“I can take care of myself.” She headed off through the tall grass. Though the queasy feeling made Doodlebug certain Aloysius was up in the tree, she didn’t sense any hostility from him.
“We’ll be waiting,” Riley called out.
Doodlebug climbed the boards nailed to the tree trunk. The funky cabin that hung in the branches looked more like pieces of a house than an actual dwelling. “If you’re in there, don’t shoot me. I just want to talk.” She slowly pushed on the trap door leading up to the front porch.
Aloysius looked like a giant as he towered over her. “So you found me.”
She climbed out of the hole to face him. “It wasn’t all that hard. I couldn’t imagine you blindly doing what Marjory told you to like the other little monsters.”
He led her back into the peculiarly angled cabin. “Those flying flameheads were answering Marjory’s siren call like dogs to a whistle. They went through the connected vaults. Since I’d already achieved real-doppelgänger union, I chose the swamp hellmouth instead.”
