The Devil's Daughter Complete Box Set, page 108
part #1 of The Devil's Daughter Series
“They claimed it was the decision of the deep waters.” Bart turned her away from Aloysius and Gerald. “They also demanded that something be done about his immortality. They said only one of you can retain the power to regenerate in this world. They sided with you but claimed the ultimate solution lay with the living.”
“Sounds like something the loas would say. And if we do nothing?” Sere asked—not that she wanted to have another immortal hanging around, especially one from the Laroque dynasty. Knowing what Samedi had told Bart and Gerald, she hoped to identify the old man’s intentions now that his grandson was free of Marjory.
“I got the impression it wasn’t an option, but from Gerald’s downcast look, I think he’d be satisfied to have his grandson be just another human. But I really don’t want to exchange one Laroque enemy for another if we can avoid it.”
The sight and sound of Doodlebug dragging a soulless zombie through the iron doorway reminded Sere that they weren’t yet done with the vault. “One problem at a time.”
Sere, Bart, and Doodlebug—with the help of Gerald and Aloysius—managed to transfer the eight zombies from under the cemetery to the bank basement. In spite of her training, Sere was breathing hard as the last one was leaned against the vault. “That’s the lot of them, but how are we going to match up the right body with the right totem? We need to contact Sanguine.”
Bart pointed at the open vault door. “Can’t we just yell?”
Doodlebug pulled out her phone. “Next best thing. So long as the hellmouth is open, if I dial Sere’s number and put this one in the vault then close the door, we should have a connection, shouldn’t we?”
“Hang on,” Sere said. “You need that to survive. We can’t risk your number being known in hell.”
“You really need to hang onto that better.” Bart pulled out his phone and handed it to her. “Mine has been modified so we can talk without the professor eavesdropping on our conversation.”
Sere punched her name on the screen then added Doodlebug to the conference call. Once the annoying buzzing started, Sere ran the contraption to the metal box, tossed it onto the floor, and closed the hatch. “Hopefully, Sanguine won’t think I turned into a cell phone.”
“Hello?” Sanguine’s voice echoed in the bank basement from the speaker on Doodlebug’s phone.
“It’s me,” Sere yelled. “I made it out. We need to reunite the dragons with their souls, but we’re not sure how.”
Bart stood next to Doodlebug and poked the phone’s screen. “I’m calling Kendell into this meeting.”
“Yeah, I’m here,” Kendell said.
“It’s good to hear your voice.” Sanguine’s words cut through the chatter.
“Voodoo and Wicca, united again.” Kendell’s voice held the same barely controlled emotions as Sanguine’s.
“We don’t have time for playing catch-up.” Sere knew the two hadn’t seen each other in two decades, but there had been other forms of communication. “We need each spirit in the totem to line up with its corresponding zombie in the basement. How do we make that happen?”
“Are the zombies mobile?”
Sere couldn’t imagine where Kendell was going with her question. “We were able to carry them here, but they haven’t shown any signs of awareness.”
“Sanguine, pick up a totem and put it in the vault,” Kendell said, “then close the door. Sere, leave the door open in the bank basement. If my theory is correct, the body should be called by the soul. If one of them walks into the vault, close it and have Gerald cast the spell from the baron’s journal.”
Sere was surprised the answer was so simple. “Let’s give it a try.”
The five of them cleared a path from the vault to the slumped-over zombies. A minute passed without anything happening, then one of them grunted, crumpled the remaining way to the floor, and tried moving forward using only his arms.
“I think we have a winner.” Bart motioned toward Aloysius. The two men put their shoulders to the struggling body and lifted him to a standing position. “Before we dump him in the vault, someone might want to check the remaining seven to make sure this one isn’t just suffering dragon-potion withdrawal.”
Sere sprang to the nearest zombie with her knife in hand. If the soulless wretch was coming out of Marjory’s chemically induced influence, she didn’t want the monster biting her. “This one is as dormant as when he got dumped down the hole.”
“So is this one,” Doodlebug announced from the other side of the near-corpse-like mob.
Gerald kicked the feet of the remaining five. “I’m not seeing any of these creatures responding to much of anything.”
The one in Bart’s grasp groaned louder and tried to stand, his face aimed at the vault. “That’s proof enough for me,” Bart said. They dragged the body to the vault, dumped it onto the iron floor, then closed the door.
“How will we know when the reunion is complete?” Sere asked.
“I suspect he’ll let us know.” Gerald turned the yellowed pages in the old journal. “Here it is.” He read the incantation out loud.
A rhythmic knocking came from the door. “Somebody let me out of here.”
“Seems to have worked.” Bart pulled the handle.
When the stoner fell out and onto the floor, Sere wondered if they’d let him out too soon. She bent down next to him. “Are you okay?”
He rubbed his head. “That was the worst trip ever.” He stared around the room. “Where am I?”
“I’m putting the next totem in the vault,” Sanguine yelled from the other side.
Doodlebug and Aloysius helped the revived kid to his feet and guided him toward the door to the tunnel. “Wait here,” Doodlebug said. “Once we have your partners fixed up, we’ll get you back where you belong. In the future, don’t take drugs from strangers.”
With the eight druggies back to their lives on the streets, the caged and chained demons and dragons lost any pretense of humanity. Growling, snarling, and lunging against their bonds, the monsters, with their demonic red eyes, reminded Sere of her time under hell’s influence.
“What do we do with them?” Bart walked along the row of cages.
Sere knew what had to be done but couldn’t face the inevitable. “I’ve never had a problem fighting demons, but just shooting them seems heartless.” As she spoke, the shotgun holstered at her thigh disappeared as if pilfered by a ghost. She had her knife out of her boot and at Doodlebug’s throat before she’d fully made the turn. “What are you doing?”
The doppelgänger girl held the weapon by the barrel. “What you can’t. We just cut their ties to hell. Eventually, they’ll start transforming into harvesters or whatever version of the ghouls exist here. There’s only one option, and we both know what it is.” She backed away from Sere’s knife while cocking the first chamber. “You may understand our connection to people better than I do, but you haven’t truly seen the depths to which our kind can descend. You’ve got about two seconds to stop me, but if you do, you’d better have a fucking good alternate plan.”
Sere stashed her knife back in her boot. The girl was right. Marjory’s goblins and demons had no place in life, and they would become even worse monsters without their power connections to hell. “Do it.”
Doodlebug approached the first cage with its winged hissing lizard. With one blast, she turned the creature into reddish-gray dust. With the second blast, she slew the demon chained next to the cage. “I’m going to need more shells.” She cocked the third chamber and moved to the next cage.
Sere pulled the bullet belt from around her waist and popped out four cartridges. She was used to doing the work herself but had to admit that watching Doodlebug’s cold dispatch relieved her of the budding emotions of regret.
The girl split open the shotgun and dumped the spent cartridges on the ground. She took a quick glance at the others in the room. “We’re doing these outcasts from hell a favor. They can’t return to where they came from, can’t live here, and will become more tortured with each passing minute.”
Sere handed over the plastic-and-brass shells. “I know, and in hell I wouldn’t have given it a second thought. I guess life is making me soft.”
Doodlebug reloaded the weapon and got back to work.
Bart put his hand on Sere’s back. “It’s like putting down rabid dogs. No one finds it easy, but in the end, everyone knows it has to be done.”
104
Chapter 19
Sere kept her hand on the butt of her shotgun as she stood next to Bart and Doodlebug in front of the totem containing the soul of Marjory Laroque. Opposite them were Gerald and Aloysius. “So now what?” In spite of Gerald’s help up to that point, she still wasn’t sure how far to trust him. Marjory was the man’s sister, and handing over her soul without some supervision seemed naïve.
“We need to find Marjory’s body,” Gerald said. “I doubt she left it lying on her luxurious bed in the mansion. It’ll be somewhere safe, unexpected, and probably under guard.”
Bart’s hand hovered close to the knife concealed in his belt, which was only a quick move from the gun stashed against his back. “You understand that Baron Samedi wants her dead? When we find her, we’ll need to put that evil soul back in her decrepit body then slay her without mercy. Can you do that? If not, tell us now. We don’t need your help, only for you to stay out of our way.”
Gerald couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the voodoo totem. “It’s like you said earlier. When you have to put a rabid dog down, you’re ultimately doing it a favor. What you left out, however, is that someone who loved the creature should still be present. If there’s any humanity left in my sister, I should be there.”
Sere had asked a lot of the big man over the course of her fight with Marjory. “She’ll hold you responsible.”
Gerald sighed as he nodded. “I am responsible. I stabbed her in the back, but it was for her own good. No one ever remembers the good Baron Malveaux did for this city, only what he became. I don’t want the same fate for my sister.” He finally looked up from the hideous sculpture. “So I’ll help in any way I can and be there at the end when you kill her.”
“And then?” Bart asked.
Gerald glanced at his grandson. “Let’s call it a truce until Marjory’s been dealt with. Where should we start? I’m guessing just opening the totem and letting the soul seek out the body isn’t an option.”
Sere stared down at the wooden head. “According to my paranormal crew, her soul was still connected to her body while she was inside me. The body can’t be just anywhere. There has to be a magical component to where she’s resting.” She turned to Gerald. “I’d ask about your family’s properties, but that would probably only narrow our options down to half of the city.”
He didn’t laugh. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin. Marjory used the bank to hide all sorts of transactions.”
At the mention of transactions, Sere caught a glimpse of the next step on their path, but it wasn’t one she wanted to share with members of the Laroque family. “I might have a lead, but I’d rather go alone.”
Gerald nodded. Keeping secrets and contacts safe was something he would understand well. “I’ll have my hands full cleaning up around here, and I don’t mean just the demon dust. The bank needs to keep functioning, and without Marjory, there’s going to be an impending power struggle upstairs. To avoid raising suspicion about what we’re doing, it would be better if we didn’t meet here again.”
“Then we can’t leave her sitting down here.” Sere nudged the totem with her toe. “I doubt any of us are going to trust the other side with our captive, but we can’t all travel in a pack like a bunch of idiots.”
Doodlebug took a step forward. “I never seem to be needed, so I can stay with the totem.”
Aloysius joined her. “I know the feeling. But if we’re not going to hang around the basement, where should the two of us hide out?”
Though Doodlebug could handle herself, leaving her with Aloysius unescorted sounded like a really bad idea. They would either end up fighting to the death or fucking. Initially, the only solution Sere could only come up with was to have the pair stay with people she knew, and that might throw off the delicate balance of power.
She nudged Bart, hoping he had a better idea of how much time had passed since they’d started on their mission. “How far do you think Riley’s gotten?”
He pulled out his phone. “I would guess she returned to her brother’s bar. Neither of the O’Leary siblings ever could let go of a good family squabble. The totem will look right at home on the counter. Hell, those drunks will probably buy it drinks.”
The morning light was just touching the wrought-iron balconies on the third floor as Sere snuggled behind Bart on the tiny seat of his Ducati. She turned her head to his back and pulled her legs under his until she was in contact with the big man from toe to temple. With her arms wrapped around his waist, she fought the urge to play her fingers under the belt of his pants. “I missed this.”
He fired up the engine like he was revving his desire. “We’re not finished yet, but it is wonderful having you back in your own body.” He grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. The way his fingers aimed downward let her know he shared her desire to be headed someplace more private.
“You’d better get moving before I end up risking all hell just to have an hour or two alone with you.”
He hit the gas, forcing her to hang on tightly to his muscular abdomen. “I hope Fisher’s in this early.”
“I don’t,” she whispered softly enough so he wouldn’t hear.
The short run from the cemetery to the CPA offices only managed to heighten her desire. Bart shut off the motor and removed his helmet before tapping her hands to let go of his waist. “You’re not helping. I’d just as soon not have to face Fisher’s geriatric secretary with an erection.”
She reluctantly let go. “You’d probably give her a heart attack, but at least she’d be more likely to let me into his office if she got to ogle you.”
He swung his leg off the seat. “Yeah, yeah, everyone just sees me as man candy.”
Once off the motorcycle, she couldn’t resist pulling him back into her arms. “Not in my case—not for a minute.”
He kept his arm around her waist as he pushed open the door, revealing Linda at her desk. The secretary pointed at the back office with her pencil. “He’s been waiting for you. I don’t think he even went home last night.”
“Good to see you too.” Sere smiled down at the old woman as she and Bart moved as one toward the CPA’s office.
Fisher was on his feet as soon as Sere opened the door. He crossed the room and had his arms wrapped around her before she’d made it halfway to the chair. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him face-to-face. “At least we’ve been able to keep you out of the direct line of fire this time. The information you’ve gathered has been invaluable.”
He finally let her go. “If Bart hadn’t been keeping an eye on you, you wouldn’t have been able to keep me locked in this office. Maybe it’s not appropriate for a sidekick to say to his superheroine, but I see you as one of my daughters—the one who’s always getting into mischief.”
Bart let out a husky laugh. “She does have a way of keeping us on our toes.”
Sere took her usual chair, with Bart at her side, as Fisher settled back in behind the desk. “One day soon, when this is all behind me, I’m going to work hard at being a good little assistant CPA.”
Fisher laughed. “Right. What problem have you gotten into this time?”
“We need to find Marjory’s body. It would be somewhere secure, comfortable, and probably not too far away. Though she trusts Gerald, I suspect the site she’s using would be a location he wouldn’t know about. It would also need to be connected to her soul in some fashion.”
“So, a recent acquisition and probably not under the Laroque name?” Fisher started doing some magic on his computer.
“I’m afraid that’s about all we’ve got,” Sere said, aware that she was handing him yet another impossible task.
He raised one hand while banging away with the other. “No, no. That’s more than enough. I’ve been keeping my eye on a couple of strange financial events. One, in particular, has had me on edge. Now that I know the other end of the line, I might be able to connect the dots.”
She didn’t have all day for him to play his financial-bloodhound game. “Maybe if you tell me about the end that worries you, I might be able to help.”
He stopped typing and stared at the screen like he’d just seen a ghost. “No need. I won’t bore you with the roundabout details of how she hid the transaction, but an architect and a construction firm were recently given the job of rebuilding the World Trade Center.”
Sere felt the blood drain from her body as if she were being sucked dry by hell’s dimension. She clenched Bart’s hand. “Just when I think I’m finally making headway, that woman finds a way of pulling the rug out from under me.”
Fisher tapped the screen with his pen. “No one’s done anything with it yet. It will be years before anyone swings a hammer in there. The same people who provide for Marjory’s personal security—the firm not associated with Gerald—are also in charge of keeping people out of the building.”
By the impossible nature of the task, Sere knew they were on the right track. “Any idea who she’s hired?”
“I’m still working on who they are and where she found them. Mostly, I’ve been looking at paramilitary units,” Fisher said. From the look in his eyes, Sere guessed he, too, was thinking that even with Bart’s skills available to them, Joe’s death left a hole in the team’s knowledge and resources.
