The Devil's Daughter Complete Box Set, page 57
part #1 of The Devil's Daughter Series
“At least Marjory Laroque didn’t show up.”
Sere wasn’t in any hurry to go up against the old woman again. “She’s probably busy putting her humpty-dumpty of a devil back together again.”
“Without the benefit of all the king’s horses and all the king’s men. Speaking of which, I’m glad the force sent Joe off in style. Only true comrades in arms understand what it is to lose one of their own. That’s a bond Marjory Laroque will never experience.”
Sere understood both perspectives all too well. She’d tried going it alone in the hope that she could keep those who cared about her from harm. People had died anyway. At least letting people in gave her a sense of belonging, even if the results weren’t much different. Many of the people at the funeral, however, didn’t even realize the dangers faced by those keeping the peace.
“I doubt half of the people in attendance even knew who Joe was, let alone what he did for this city.” Two blocks ahead of them, the band at the front of the second line made a right toward Bourbon Street, leading the revelers to the bars like pied pipers enticing rats to their drowning.
“At least at the Scratchy Dog Joe will be remembered by friends.” Bart’s arm around her waist seemed so natural she wondered why she’d delayed their romance for so long.
“Then what?” She’d carefully avoided asking about when he intended to leave again, but the longer she waited to find out, the sooner the departure seemed.
He looked up into the sky as if the clouds were spelling out an answer. “I don’t know. I thought I might see if Myles could use some help behind the bar. I wouldn’t want to miss the next raising of the devil.”
She couldn’t restrain herself. She hopped and bounded in front of Bart then jumped into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist. “You mean it? You’re not rushing off?”
He held her by the ass like he was ready to make love to her right there in the street. “Not until you’re ready to return to the swamp with me. Until then, I thought you could use a sparring partner to help train the Dooly Doodlebug twins.”
Sere dropped her head to his chest. “I know I’ve never said it before, but your help means the world to me. And I don’t even feel weak by admitting it.”
He leaned his head to the side and kissed her neck, sending electric sparks down her spine. “You’re a badass demon-hunting superheroine, but even immortals could use a hand once in a while. I’m just honored to be among those you turn to.”
“You’re a fucking hell of a lot more than that.” She jumped down off him and pulled him into a dark doorway. “Now, kiss me like we are making love.”
Sere nursed her Jameson’s whiskey while watching Polly Urethane and the Strippers perform one of their rare reunion gigs on stage at the Scratchy Dog in honor of Joe’s passing. Kendell, as lead guitarist Olympia Stain, wore a skimpy black dress with torn fishnet stockings. The dress was so short that the bottom of her black electric guitar hung lower than the hem. Even in their forties, the women could belt out a number while looking sexy as hell. Myles hadn’t taken his eyes off Kendell once all night except to mix drinks.
Sitting at the back of the room, Fisher bobbed to the music, dancing in a seated position. Instead of chastising him for mentally reliving his days hanging out next to the stage, crushing on each member of the band, Ann snuggled close to him on the green velvet couch and held his hand in her lap. They reminded Sere of teenage lovers who’d escaped the supervision of their families.
Sere turned to Myles. “I can’t remember Joe ever cutting loose, but I think he would have really enjoyed this.”
He freshened up her drink and leaned across the bar. “I checked in on the loas. They gave him a second line straight through the gates of Guinee. His soul is at rest in the deep waters.”
Tears came so fast to her eyes that she feared she might not be able to contain the gusher of emotion. “Thanks” was all she could manage.
Bart leaned in conspiratorially. “What was all that stuff Devlin was saying about overcoming the loas?”
Though she was grateful they’d seen to Joe’s passing, dealing with the lords of the afterlife always sent a chill down her spine. Having something to focus on other than Joe, however, helped her control her grief. “It was an idea my father had. He thought he could save people from death. Of course, that would only apply to the recently deceased, but then, he thought he had an eternity to work his plan. Those who didn’t submit would die and live again—with each reincarnation giving him a new opportunity to win them over. Eventually, every soul would be drained from the deep waters, leaving the loas with nothing to do.”
Myles pointed his bottle of Abita at her. “That’s why the loas are so afraid of you.”
She’d never considered that they might be as spooked by her as she was by them. “What do you mean? I thought they just wanted my soul for their collection.”
“If people accept the idea that death isn’t a given, eventually, they’ll figure out a way to defeat it—with or without the help of a devil. Then Guinee will become a ghost town without any ghosts. Immortality is the great equalizer between people and the gods. And if people have an example like you, the concept of defeating death will become more than theoretical. That’s what scares the loas of the dead shitless.”
Sere really couldn’t have cared less about what the loas felt. She put her drink on the bar and took Bart’s hand. “I’m done saving the world for today. Dance with me.”
He smiled and set his Jack and Coke next to her drink. “Whatever my sexy demon huntress wants.”
Out on the dance floor, Bart wrapped his arms around her waist and twirled her in the air. With her arms spread wide, Sere felt as if the burdens of her life were flying out of her fingers to be shared by those she loved. Only by letting go of the responsibilities she felt were her birthright could she find room to let those she loved into her soul. As the song grew in intensity, Bart moved his hands to her hips and lifted her until she felt like she was flying free from the devil and the hell that had unfairly claimed her.
When the music ended, Bart swung her around as if she were weightless and lowered her against his body. She leaned her head on his shoulder and put her hands on top of his around her waist. “Take me home.”
Hell or High Water
Hell or High Water
Sere Mal-Laurette was warned against meeting Jennifer, the real woman behind her doppelgänger body. However, she didn’t mention that instruction to Jennifer during their numerous psychically bonded moments. So when Jennifer shows up in front of Sere’s apartment, the doppelgänger doesn’t see much choice other than to invite the housewife in for a cup of coffee.
Before the day is out, Myles’s sweet little dog has turned into a hellhound, Sere’s friend and sidekick Fisher has succumbed to his demonic possession, and supersized crawfish have emerged from the swamp. Sere is forced to wonder if she should have heeded the warnings about Jennifer. But is the widening of the hell mouth a result of one morning’s coffee conversation, or is something more sinister at work?
Sere has plenty of other explanations to choose from. There are the lost souls of the damned that Marjory Laroque cast into hell in her attempt to raise a new devil. There’s the fact that Sere’s sweet angel and mother figure, Sanguine, has been imprisoned. Worst of all, Sere’s very presence among the living could be the cause of the impending apocalypse. Once again she needs help curbing the chaos, but this time, she’ll call on her support system in hell.
49
Chapter 1
Sere stood in the closet doorway, admiring Bart’s toned back and butt as he slept naked on her bed. Light from the dormer window played across his olive-brown skin, reminding her of how she’d run her hands over him during the night. Like a good fight, the hours of wild human sex had left her wanting more, but he deserved at least a little sleep so he could recoup before she resumed her sexual assault. She pulled on her tight jeans and white T-shirt, imagining him yanking them off when she returned.
Hell’s demons weren’t likely to sit on the sidelines while she took some time for herself, and there was still work to do in containing Marjory Laroque. But Sere hadn’t made all that much progress by devoting every second of her life to the containment of hell. How much worse could things get if I took a day to explore this new aspect of my relationship with that hunky bartender? After all, Kendell keeps telling me to let others take charge, even if it’s just for a few hours.
She stepped out of the old three-story building on Frenchmen Street to grab a couple of cups of coffee from the local café. Red plastic cups, to-go boxes, and a passed-out dude sitting against the Scratchy Dog nightclub’s front door were all that remained of the night’s revelry. As she passed a dark alleyway a block from the club, the smell of freshly baked chocolate-chip cookies cut through the morning stench. The enticing aroma that wafted from the shadows made her stop cold. I’d better be dreaming.
“Hi, Sere.” Jennifer’s voice was so similar to Sere’s that for a moment, she wondered if the words were merely in her head.
“You can’t be here.” Without the option of fighting her real, Sere wanted to turn and run, but she feared Jennifer would just follow her. If the woman knew enough to show up on Frenchmen Street, she had to know where Sere lived.
“If you don’t have the time, I can come back later.” Jennifer opened the bag.
The intense aroma of butter and chocolate almost made Sere swoon. “You don’t get it. It’s not safe for us to meet. Go back to your son and husband.”
“You sound like Bobby. He’s just getting to that age when kids think they can tell their parents what to do. How about you let me make my own life decisions?” She pulled a cookie out of the bag. “I brought treats.”
“Seriously? You’re going to pull the I’ve got candy, little girl trick on me?”
Jennifer put the cookie back in the bag like a drug dealer who’d just hit on the wrong potential customer. “If you didn’t want me to track you down, you should have done a better job of hiding.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a printout regarding Joe’s wake the night before. “Or maybe you think I’m too stupid to put two and two together.”
Sere couldn’t believe how foolish she’d been. Joe had saved Jennifer’s life out in the swamp. Sere should have realized the threat back then, but after he died, she’d been careless enough to tell Jennifer about it during their psychic connection. “I guess I should thank you for not showing up at his funeral.”
“I didn’t want to complicate your life.”
Boy, has that ship sailed. Sere looked around Frenchmen Street. Only a handful of people struggled out of their homes at nine in the morning—most were still recovering from the previous night. “So you just stopped by on your way to a shopping day with your friends?” If people were waiting for Jennifer, she might not stick around long.
“Bobby’s at a camping retreat, and Henry has a conference in the city. I used the excuse of joining him to come down here. Honestly, I didn’t know if I’d have the nerve to face you.” Jennifer stared down at her black leather pumps. The stance was one Sere knew well, having used it many times herself as a young girl caught telling a half-truth.
“You were spying on me last night, weren’t you?” Sere asked.
Jennifer tossed her long red locks back over her shoulder and looked up at Sere. “You have no idea how badly I wanted to join the wake. I felt like I already knew so many people in the bar: Fisher, Bart, Kendell, Polly, and most of all, you. It felt like I’d been kicked out of a family reunion.”
“They aren’t your family.”
The homemaker stepped forward out of the shadows. “You clearly are. Having an imaginary friend is one thing, but when she ends up being real and looking like a twin sister, there’s clearly a story somewhere. Don’t you think it’s about time I got an explanation?”
“If I said no, would you go away?” Sere asked hopefully.
“Would you?”
Sere was beginning to realize that some aspects of Jennifer’s spirit had seeped into her doppelgänger body. “I suppose not, but I’m known for doing things that aren’t always in my best interest.”
“Sounds like we have that in common,” Jennifer said.
If they remained out in the open for much longer, someone Sere knew was sure to notice the eerie similarities between the two women. “I was just headed to get some coffee.”
“I’ll join you.”
Sere shook her head in fear. “No, you won’t. Stay here, and don’t let anyone see you. I’ll get the coffee, and we can go someplace private to talk.”
“Do you bully everyone this way?”
“Just, please stay here,” Sere pleaded. “When I come back, I’ll explain everything. Right now, though, trust me—it’s better this way.”
Jennifer crossed her arms over her stomach and shook her head. The look of motherly disapproval was one Sere had seen on the homemaker before, just never aimed at her. “I’ve seen you slay demons without flinching and watched as others dug bullets from your flesh. You’ve even given me a taste of your bravery. And yet I terrify you?”
Every second they were out in plain sight, Kendell, Myles, or someone else might spot them having their odd conversation. “Of course I’m not afraid of you. The repercussions of our meeting, however, could weaken the boundary between the living and the damned. I’ve already got one devil on the rise. I don’t need an army of monster-riding ghouls joining him.”
“All right, demon killer. I’ll wait here for you. But don’t think you’re scaring me off with tales of the apocalypse. All I’m asking for is a little morning conversation. How bad could that really be?”
Sere stormed off down the street toward the coffee shop. Having Jennifer show up was her own damn fault. For all of the psychic bonds they’d shared, never once had she told the woman that they couldn’t meet—even after Jennifer figured out that Sere wasn’t just an imaginary friend. Sere was still shaking her head in disbelief when she pushed open the door to the café.
“Your regular, Miss Sere?” The barista took too long looking her over.
“Better make it two. And the largest, strongest cup of dark roast you’ve got.” Bart was going to need more than just caffeine that morning, so she added, “I could use a shot of Jack in that black coffee.”
“You got it. Family in town?” The barista fired up the espresso machine like she was pulling the levers on a steam engine. “I saw your twin sister earlier wandering down the street.”
Shit. At least allowing the woman to believe Jennifer was Sere’s twin made for an easy explanation. “She’s only here for a few hours.”
The barista pulled the bottle of Jack Daniel’s off the shelf and gave the dark roast a good healthy shot. “I don’t imagine she’s the one in need of a little extra boost this morning.”
Sere wondered how long she was going to have to endure the interrogation. “There was a wake last night at the Scratchy Dog for someone I care about. A friend decided to stay the night.”
The woman looked up through the steam. “I’m so sorry.” With her wide brown eyes and shocked expression, she seemed to honestly mean it.
“Yeah, well…” Sere had no idea what she was supposed to say. The only thing worse than having to express sympathy was figuring out what to do when it was aimed at her.
“Two long macchiatos and a black and jack.” The barista handed over the cardboard caddy with the three large paper cups. “This is on the house today. I’m glad you’ve got your loved ones with you.”
Sere wished she remembered the woman’s name. “Thanks.” She walked out of the café, holding the three cups and wondering how she’d ended up having two people who wanted to know her better. As she approached the alleyway, she nodded at Jennifer, who was sitting on the stoop. “I’m just up the street.” She felt like she was inviting a stray dog home for something to eat.
“Above the Scratchy Dog—I know.”
Stalker much? Sere handed over one of the macchiatos. “If anyone asks, you’re my twin sister.”
“Is that really what I am?” Jennifer took a sip of the hot brew. Though she didn’t say anything, her scrunched-up facial expression made it clear it wasn’t her normal cup of coffee.
“Not quite.” Sere unlocked the door next to the Scratchy Dog and ushered Jennifer in before Kendell or Myles had a chance to look through the nightclub window and notice Sere had a guest. The conversation was going to be awkward enough without the couple offering unneeded warnings. “My loft is all the way up. There are a couple of loose stairs, so watch your step.”
“I just love these old buildings—so much character.” Jennifer climbed the steps, looking at the crackle-painted walls like a realtor inspecting a new loft coming on the market.
“The door’s unlocked. I hope you’re not afraid of snakes.”
It wasn’t until Jennifer pushed open the squeaky old door that Sere remembered snakes weren’t the only things she might encounter. Standing in the middle of the room, looking like a naked Greek god, Bart puffed out his chest. “You weren’t in bed when I got up.”
Jennifer just stood there as if she couldn’t believe her eyes. Sere had to push the woman aside. “I snuck out to get some coffee. You might want to put some clothes on.”
“Holy shit!” Bart covered his towering erection, bent over, and ran for the bathroom. “I thought that was you coming through the door.”
“Please don’t go to any fuss on my account,” Jennifer called after the retreating butt. Once he’d closed the door, she turned to Sere. “That’s some snake.”
“Do you want to hear about our connection, or do you want to keep drooling over your rescuer?” Sere pulled the bag of solidified sugar from the cabinet and banged it on the Formica countertop to loosen it up.
