The Devil's Daughter Complete Box Set, page 111
part #1 of The Devil's Daughter Series
She couldn’t imagine that they’d have more than a couple of hours even if they were lucky. “How long is this going to take?”
He looked nervously around the edge of town. “I’m just going to do a forge weld. It won’t be nearly as strong or pretty as the original, but it should work for decapitations. If Marjory’s body is being watched by some fairy-tale royal guard, one measly sword isn’t going to do us much good anyway.”
“Personally, from what we’re seeing in these dimensions, I’m hoping for the seven dwarfs.”
He snickered as he gathered up the tools he’d need from the bench, staying low enough not to be seen by anyone hiding in a house. “I don’t think anyone is going to believe her as Snow White. Sleeping Beauty, cursed to slumber a hundred years, would fit better with Marjory’s age.”
“If we ever have to enter this building again, I’ll need to brush up on my folklore.”
Sere breathed a little easier back out in the stairwell.
“What the hell is this?” Doodlebug yanked the sword from Bart’s grasp.
“It’s the best I could do on short notice and with seventeenth-century equipment.” His even tone told Sere he hadn’t taken the criticism well.
Doodlebug tried to swing the mangled blade through the air. “It looks like something for killing orcs.”
Bart snatched the sword back from the girl. “Let’s hope that’s not what we’ll be facing. Do you know anything about where Marjory stashed her body?”
“It’s only two floors below us.” The girl turned back toward the stairs and began to climb down.
“I meant, something I don’t already know.”
Even from half a floor behind, Sere caught the girl’s shrug of indifference. “I only entered the two floors you were just on and the restaurant on top of the tower,” Doodlebug said.
At the door marked Floor Seventeen, Sere felt her heart pounding, but this time, it wasn’t from the stairs. “Are we sure we’re not doing exactly what Marjory wants? Once she’s back in human form, she might have yet another trick up her sleeve that we haven’t anticipated.”
Bart leaned against the wall. “We haven’t even gotten the body back yet. When we force her spirit back into it, we’ll have Joe’s security guards on our side. Even though she may have hired them, I heard the resolute tone of acceptance when their leader talked to you. They’ll be on our side even if she does come back to life.”
Doodlebug kicked the door repeatedly as if riling up a nest of hornets. “They’re still small potatoes compared to the head loa of the dead. How well do you trust Baron Samedi? Seems like he’s playing referee in this little magical contest.”
“At this point, I’m not even sure if his input matters. He’s going to do whatever he wants. I’m just trying to anticipate Marjory’s next move.” Sere looked at Bart, hoping his military-trained mind had come up with a logical next step.
He stared at the girl kicking the door until she got the message. “Marjory’s soul is still on the sidelines, and we’ve got an unexpected advantage. She wanted to keep her body safe, so she wouldn’t have just stashed it anywhere in time. She would have chosen a situation where a comatose woman would be under guard. I hate to say it, but the story of Sleeping Beauty—or at least the events that inspired the story—might be exactly what’s behind that door.”
“Great.” Though unable to lie, Doodlebug had developed a uniquely annoying form of sarcasm. “Anyone remember the fairy tale? Because I’m going to tell you, Dooly didn’t spend much time being read to as a child.”
Bart shook his head as if the story was in there somewhere and he was trying to dislodge it from his mental bookshelf. “Other than her being cursed to sleep for a hundred years in a castle and woken up by a handsome prince, I’ve got nothing.”
Sere sat on the metal stair. Memories of her previous life were ethereal and based more on emotions than facts. “The Grimm brothers’ fairy tales were all the rage when I was a little girl. My mother used to read them to me in the original German. I remember the stories even though I haven’t got a clue how to speak the language.”
“Is this really helping?” Doodlebug stuck close to the door as if there were some danger lurking in the stairwell.
Sere attempted to be more specific. “After the princess falls asleep, she’s laid out on the finest bed in the castle. The rest of the living people and animals are also put to sleep so they’ll be with her when she awakes.”
“That’s good news,” Bart said. “They can’t fight us if they’re sleeping.”
“She said living people.” Doodlebug ran her hand over the lever. “That doesn’t do us any good if Marjory had her doppelgänger send in a security detail from hell.”
Sere was still trying to separate out the details of the story from all the rest of the books she’d heard as a child. “Doodlebug is right. The story talked of trees and bramble overgrowing the walls to keep the princess safe. There’s something about snakes too, but that’s about all I can remember.”
Bart held the sword up like a medieval knight. “This should work against branches and vines. Time we got to work.”
“So, who’s playing doorman this time?” Doodlebug kept hold of the handle.
Sere could only see one option. “Bart’s best with the sword, and I know my way around weird dimensions. Since Marjory used my body to sneak hers onto this floor, maybe I’ll have some ability to work around her safety features. That means you’ll stand guard.”
Doodlebug crossed her arms and leaned against the door. “I’m getting really tired of playing the servant around you.”
Sere didn’t have time for the girl’s theatrics. “When this is over, we’ll figure out a better division of labor, but for right now, Bart and I have to retrieve Marjory.”
“I don’t like it.” Doodlebug turned back to the latch.
“Wait.” Bart grabbed the girl’s wrist. “You opened the doors the last two times, and both times, we ended up where you landed in those dimensions.”
“So?” Doodlebug didn’t take her hand from the door.
“If we enter this realm where you would start, we’d probably be somewhere out in the forest, where we’d have to fight our way in. If we go in the way Sere-Marjory did, maybe we can bypass the bramble and start out closer to the sleeping body.”
“Or maybe Marjory is smarter than you two, and you both will end up back in the vault. Did you even think of that? The mercenary downstairs already proved Sere’s handprint no longer matches what it was like the last time her body entered the building.”
Sere pushed Doodlebug aside. “No, it matched Joe’s hand, and he was well known by the people who ran this institution. Marjory might have anticipated me coming back to the World Trade Center, but there’s no way she could have imagined Joe coming back to life.” She grabbed the handle and pushed it down.
Sere stood next to Bart in the round room with stairs circling up to the second floor from either side. “That girl is getting too big for her britches.”
“You weren’t much better when we first met. I assume we have to go upstairs.” He held the sword at the ready as he scanned the room. Dressed in a long white tunic that covered his chain mail, the big man with the sword would have fit right in with any knight contingent.
“I’m surprised there isn’t a welcoming party. Doesn’t seem like Marjory to bait the trap with her body then wait to spring it until we were within striking distance.” Sere reached for her boot but ended up with a handful of chiffon. “I wish I had my knife.”
Bart took a little longer looking her over than was prudent considering the unseen dangers. “Though I would have preferred to find you in some leather disguise as the woodland thief, I’ve gotta say, you make a stunning princess.”
“Thanks for not calling me a damsel in distress.” She led the way to the staircase.
“I don’t think anyone will ever make that mistake.” The interlinking rings of metal rattled as he walked.
As she put her foot on the first white marble tread, a dragon emerged upstairs, filling the hallway. “I think we found our combatant. Looks like Marjory refined her dragon-summoning charm.”
The dragon’s claw curled over the stair at the top of the arc. “You’re not welcome here.” His raspy voice reminded her so much of how she’d sounded to herself when using Smoke’s reptilian vocal cords that she put her hand to her throat.
Bart brushed past Sere. With only the mangled sword, he wasn’t going to be a match for the fire breather. “I suspect you’re also an intruder in this magical realm. I wonder how the powers that run this place will feel about monsters invading their territory.”
Flames erupted from the beast’s nose and mouth, setting the elegant banister ablaze and scorching the stone. The dragon crept down toward the crouching knight.
“He’s coming down at you.” From the bottom of the staircase, Sere had a better view of the action than her champion. She felt beyond helpless.
Bart sprang so far up the stairs that she wondered if there was another knight she hadn’t noticed. With one powerful swing of the sword, he cut a bloody line across the dragon’s throat. He then used the momentum to get clear of the beast’s teeth and claws. Though successful in landing the cutting edge to flesh, all he’d really accomplished was proving that the sword was no match for a dragon of that size.
Shit. Now what do we do?
The stained-glass window that cast shades of red, yellow, and purple onto the staircase seemed to come to life as the shading shifted to shadows. Glass exploded across the entire circular great room. Flames covered the ceiling.
“Back off, Flambeaux.”
Sere nearly darted up the stairs when she recognized Smoke’s voice, but the smaller dragon that had confronted Bart wasn’t the cowardly type she’d previously encountered from Marjory’s creations.
“I was hoping you’d show, Bernie.”
“Har, har.” The big dragon’s attempt at a fake laugh melted what little was left of the glass as he stood on the window’s stone ledge. “Now, are you going to come out here and fight me, or are you going to hide in your snake hole?”
The castle dragon backed up to the top of the stairs. As he turned toward Smoke, Sere saw an opportunity for Bart to run his sword into the spread scales. But to her surprise, he remained close to the wall as the flying serpent pursued the larger dragon out the window.
“Now’s our chance.” His whisper was barely louder than the flapping wings outside.
She rushed up to him. “Why didn’t you skewer the dragon?”
“He would have turned back to us. Couldn’t you tell that Smoke was running a distraction play? So long as Flambeaux is outside, we’re clear to grab Marjory.”
Though what he said made sense, she still wanted to see the monster coughing blood with his flames. “There must be something about this dimension that’s riling up my demon side.”
“Probably the same thing that made Flambeaux chase Smoke. My guess would be that it has something to do with the door sensor thinking you were human. A heightened connection to hell didn’t seem to be a problem on the other two floors.”
Bart found the strangest times to analyze events. Sere considered arguing that Smoke either had something to do with the change or had made it across because of it, but either way, the discussion would simply be wasting time. “We’d better get moving.”
He took off down the hallway that had housed Flambeaux. Without checking the line of rooms, he headed straight to the massive double doors at the end and busted through them.
The body of Marjory Laroque lay on a bed covered by a white-silk comforter edged in gold. Her gown so perfectly matched the covering that her figure could have been mistaken for ripples and folds in the bedspread. Bart handed Sere the sword. “I can carry her or defend our escape, but I can’t do both.”
She took the sword, feeling instantly more like her old self. “One task done. Now we just have to get down to the building’s lobby.”
He threw Marjory over his shoulder and raced back down the hallway. In her overly fluffy gown, Sere struggled to keep up. As he reached the stairs, she was still half a hallway behind—just far enough to see Flambeaux cruise through the shattered window. Flames followed the monster, announcing that Smoke wasn’t far behind.
She hitched up her skirts with one hand and pumped all her energy into her legs. Marjory’s dragon was just bending his neck down the stairs when she aimed the blade straight at it. The crudely repaired sword’s welded and sharpened shards of metal separated the reptile’s protective scales. Blood spewed onto Sere as the huge beast succumbed to the direct blow. He tumbled over the charred railing. His crash onto the marble-inlay floor rumbled the castle.
Though she needed to hustle after Bart, Sere turned back to Smoke. “Thanks, but how are you here?”
He nodded at the sword. “When that thing encountered the foreign dimension of Salem, Chloe got word from the World Trade Center’s custodian. We figured this would be where you needed me. Since I was created to watch over Doodlebug, with her holding the door open—even from your dimension—I was able to slip through.”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry I asked. Thanks again. Every warrior from hell should have a trusty dragon.”
With the militia that had served Joe so well guarding every door and window in the lobby, Sere watched with sword in hand as Bart tipped the blue-glass jar to the mouth of the comatose Marjory Laroque. With Gerald holding the woman’s nose, the body had no choice but to swallow the liquid.
The revived Marjory rolled onto her stomach, coughing and choking so badly that Sere wondered if the potion would do the job of killing the woman and save her the trouble. Unfortunately, Marjory struggled to her feet, forcing her body to behave. As Bart, Doodlebug, Gerald, and Aloysius stood near the guards, Marjory focused on Sere and the blood-dripping sword.
“So, you’re just going to execute me in cold blood? Sounds like something the devil’s daughter would do.” The woman’s sneer sounded more demonic than human.
Still covered in dragon blood, Sere wondered if the woman was right. Maybe she was giving in to her demonic side. But Kendell’s solution of building hell and consigning Baron Malveaux to that prison hadn’t worked out so well either. “My father, your ancestor, took over the body of your son, Lincoln. If Kendell and her gang had acted as judge, jury, and executioner right then and there, none of this nightmare would have happened. He wouldn’t have been able to reach back in time and steal my soul. I would have passed through Guinee and ended up in eternal rest. Father’s soul would have been turned over to the loas of the dead. Hell wouldn’t even have existed. Doppelgängers, demons, and devils would only be the topics of folklore.”
“So by killing me, you right the wrongs of those who saved you? Hell will still exist when I’m dead. That idiot loa might have isolated our dear departed from the deep waters, but he can’t go around scooping up our whole family. Kill me, and I’ll just return in another form.”
“And I’ll be here to greet you when you do.” Sere had grown tired of arguments that only served to let evil squirm away. Without thinking, she let her eyesight go red and swung the sword with all of the combined strength of those who supported her. Marjory’s head flew halfway across the room and landed at her brother’s feet.
While Marjory’s body continued oozing blood onto the marble floor at Sere’s feet—mixing with the dragon blood that dripped from her sword and clothing—Sere turned to Aloysius. “Now, what are we going to do about you?”
Gerald stepped into the gore. “We had an arrangement. I stood aside while you did what you had to do with my sister, but I will not let you cut down my grandson in cold blood.”
She glanced down at her body and sword. His assumption that she was out to kill Aloysius did make a certain amount of visual sense. “I didn’t mean to imply that I intended to kill him. Baron Samedi will take Marjory’s soul as his answer to the other loas, but he has made it clear that only one immortal can remain among the living, and we haven’t got a clue as to how to separate Aloysius back into his component parts.”
Aloysius placed his hand on his grandfather’s arm, and the old man quietly relinquished center stage. “I know what I have to do. I’ve been giving this some thought since we met with Baron Samedi. With Great-Aunt Marjory gone, there’s really only one option for me. I have to go to hell. Her doppelgänger will dissipate soon enough, leaving a void in the balance of power. We can’t just hand the reins over to the Cormorant and let her rule the underworld.”
“You would become the devil?” Gerald asked, his near whisper echoing around the glass-and-steel room.
Aloysius stood a little straighter as if the hesitant man was turning into a commanding authority before Sere’s eyes. “No. Hell’s ruler doesn’t have to be a devil. Instead of using our shared ancestor as my model the way Marjory did, I would follow your lead, Grandfather. You didn’t demand loyalty of your force—you inspired it. Instead of coerced obedience, you laid out a system of justice for this city’s citizens, great and small.” He turned toward Doodlebug. “Part of me was there when the Doppel Avenger stood up for the suffering doppelgängers. You had a team of warriors. Your example proves the realm doesn’t have to be a constant torture.”
Doodlebug took Aloysius’s hand. “I’ll do what I can from this side, but you can’t ask me to return. Though that might be your destiny, even the devil’s daughter hasn’t asked that much of me.”
His head dropped. “Give me your contacts. Tell me how to win them over. I know I can make that world a place worth living in.”
Sere feared she might still be replacing one devil with another. “You’ll be cut off from this reality. You and I will live eternity on the seesaw that straddles hell and life.”
