The Devil's Daughter Complete Box Set, page 82
part #1 of The Devil's Daughter Series
“How much do you know about the event?” Though the big man had been useful in updating Sere on his sister’s machinations in life, his acceptance of hell and the curses that went into it had always been in doubt.
“I know there’s an element of danger to the meeting. Marjory has asked that I attend, in both dimensions. This will be my first mental venture into hell. This Dooly girl isn’t going to be a problem, is she? I can’t have her casting any spell with her music that might trap me in the foreign dimension.”
Sere had heard stories about how Kendell—as part of Polly Urethane and the Strippers—had enchanted the devil with her guitar playing, so she figured the old man’s comment wasn’t completely in gest. “Everything in this dimension should be completely normal. What happens with Dooly’s doppelgänger in hell, however, worries me. We know your sister is meeting with the Cormorant. If either of those women realize there’s a spy in their midst, things could turn ugly.”
The old man jerked the pole, but the slack line and fish’s tail splash indicted that Gerald’s prey had out witted him. “I’ve told you before, I won’t outwardly betray Marjory.”
She toyed with the knife handle in her boot. With one good toss, she could impale the fish without going through all of the hunt and parry that seemed to frustrate the old man. “I’m not asking you to. I just want Doodlebug in the room for firsthand information regarding what transpires.”
He turned toward her as he reeled in the line. The grooves from his droopy eyelids continued across the sides of his face. “And if something does go wrong?”
Of Sere’s two spies, Gerald was the closest to Marjory, making him the more valuable. “Doodlebug can take care of herself. I wouldn’t ask you to betray your cover to protect her. If she gets into a fight, that’s on her, but anything you can do to maintain her cover without exposing yours would be appreciated.”
He cast the line out again up river of where he’d lost the last round. “What can I expect as a living puppet in hell?”
She’d never experienced the dimension as anything other than a thinking, feeling, fighting self-aware being. “It depends on how much control your sister has over her marionettes. My guess is quite a lot—in which case, what you do in life will be mirrored by your double in hell. Since not everyone in that version of the party will have their original in the room, the whole evening will probably be pretty disorienting. It’s going to feel like a bad acid trip where you’re not sure what’s real and what isn’t.”
He drew the line slowly toward the spot of his last defeat. “Been there, done that. I guess that explains why the guest list is limited to family. The rumor is she’s got a new heir on the line for her next experiment.”
She stretched her legs out on the rock. After spending twenty years in hell’s hurricane, she doubted she would ever get enough sun on her body. “I’ve heard that too, though I doubt that’s why she’s called for the meeting. If she could raise a devil on her own, she wouldn’t need the Cormorant’s help.”
He turned the reel so slowly the sprocket could barely be heard above the rippling of the water. “Tell me about this Cormorant. If things turn ugly, it would be nice to know something of my adversary.”
She stared at the water, seeking out whatever indication Gerald had noticed that his prey was within striking distance. Other than the movement of the mote of feather and hook, however, she couldn’t make out anything other than the river’s natural current. “I’m not sure you’d believe me. I’ve only run across her once, and the encounter wasn’t the type of thing most sane people could accept.”
He flicked the fly so artfully that only the wings appeared to have moved. “Joe conditioned me to keep an open mind. Try me.”
She wanted to stand up for a better look at the river, but she feared her movement might spook the fish. “She’s seven feet tall, more bird than human, with feathers covering most of her body. Only her arms, legs, neck, and parts of her face look human.”
“Don’t tell me she can fly.”
Sere finally noticed the series of ripples that moved counter to the river’s flow and in line with Gerald’s lure. “Of course she can. She is mostly a bird with human attachments, but that’s only her physical being. She considers herself ruler of hell—to the point where others worship her as a goddess. That’s what makes her dangerous.”
Gerald stood stone still as the fly drifted over a ripple of water. When the wings submerged, he yanked hard at the pole and started turning the handle of the reel like he was trying to start a fire inside the mechanism. The rod bent so far over the water that Sere thought the tip was going to be pulled under. For a man in his eighties, Gerald showed remarkable tenacity in drawing the fish downriver toward him. As it passed him and dove into the calm pond below Sere’s rock, the big man splashed wader-deep into the stream to keep the line aimed straight toward the creature. He pulled the net from his belt as deftly as Sere would draw the shotgun from her thigh holster. With a swift swish through the water, he snagged the redfish, which filled the net from rim to rim. He shook the net to get the fish firmly inside. “That would explain why my sister is seeking the alliance. She never did care for dealing with anyone but the person at the top of the pyramid.”
“Nice catch.” Sere stood up on the rock. Her muscles ached from keeping still for so long. “The Cormorant has it in for me, but she can’t get to me here among the living. There’s no love lost between me and your sister. If they join forces, I need to understand what they’re up to. Doodlebug is my only spy in hell. If either of those women learn of her presence and capture her, I’ll be in a worse situation than I am already. I won’t ask you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, but if those two women have their way, hell will be coming to the living. Right now I may be the only one able to stop it.”
He removed the hook from the fish, measured it, and let it go back into the river. “I’ll do what I can, but as I’ve said before, I need to stay in the shadows to be the most effective. It would be best if you didn’t tell your spy about me.”
She was surprised he went to such trouble only to let his catch escape, but then human activities seldom made much sense to her. “No worries there. I’m not even sure how far I trust her. Have you developed any additional insights into what your sister is up to?” Though Gerald might’ve been hesitant to engage Marjory in battle, he’d never held back what he knew.
“Mostly speculation based on how I would have interpreted events in her shoes. You were too big a part of Devlin’s transformation for his disintegration to have been a mistake in her readings of the old baron’s journals. She’ll be itching to try again without you.”
Sere looked out at the wide-open swampland. She didn’t see another human in any direction. “We suspected as much. Doodlebug says she sent Aloysius’s soul to hell.”
Gerald held the pole so tightly, the tip quivered. “She was supposed to consult me about using a close family member. Aloysius is my grandson.”
“I’m sorry. Any idea why she’d make a move against you?”
He secured the hook to the reel. “To make sure she has my attention. I realize it may not be possible, but I would consider it a favor if you had your warrior do what she can to protect Aloysius.”
Lying wasn’t part of Sere’s nature, but leaving certain information out of her explanations didn’t cross that line. Still, Gerald deserved to hear the whole truth. “I’ll do what I can, but if he turns into the next devil, I may not have a choice but to destroy him.”
75
Chapter 6
Sere got back on the road, relieved that she’d secured Gerald’s help with Doodlebug and had not gotten tossed into an iron vault, hauled off to jail, or any of the other dozen scenarios that had played out in her mind. Dooly’s group of gutter-punk buskers would have to prove they were worthy of the gig, but so long as they didn’t royally screw up, Doodlebug would attend the party. And with Gerald keeping an eye out for her, even if something did go wrong, Sere would hear about it.
I’ve done as much as I can for step one. The bigger hell issue was getting Sanguine out of the vault. The poor angel had been trapped in there for far too long. Talking to Doodlebug had knocked loose an idea in Sere that couldn’t seem to fully form. Sanguine wouldn’t just be sitting in the vault, waiting to be rescued. I saw her in there, so I know she’s conscious. She must be doing something.
Sere reached into her saddlebag for her phone. The snake guarding her possessions nipped at her fingers like an overly protective mother snapping at her daughter for talking on the phone while driving. “Lay off. I need to tell Bart what I’m doing, and I’m not pulling over. Slip your scaly head out of the bag and have a look if you’re so worried. There’s not another vehicle for miles.”
As she pulled the annoying block of technology out of the leather bag, the snake stuck his head out and hissed.
Sere scrolled through the list of names on the screen and tapped on the bar labeled Bart.
“How’d it go?” His voice never sounded as lush and lustful over the airwaves as it did in person.
She tucked the phone under her skullcap helmet. “Gerald is going to help to an extent. I’m headed to the office.”
“Are you riding your motorcycle while talking on the phone again? I can hear the engine.”
“Yes, Dad. You sound just like my snake. I was only calling to let you know everything worked out okay and that I’m headed to see Fisher.”
“I’m not going to argue with you while you’re driving. You going all demony and swinging the motorcycle like a woman possessed isn’t going to make your trip any safer. I’ll text Fisher to let him know you’re on the way.”
She dropped the phone back into the gator-skin saddlebag, wondering how much trouble she would be in if the damn thing hit the pavement instead.
As an employee of Montgomery Fisher, CPA, Sere sucked, and she knew it. As if to drive the point home, every time she stepped foot in the offices, Linda, the ancient receptionist, glared at her. “Any new clients to report?”
“I did land the Scratchy Dog nightclub account.”
“That was months ago. I assume you want to pull Mr. Fisher back out on some harebrained scheme that will land him in the hospital again. CPAs aren’t supposed to face life-or-death situations—in case they didn’t teach that in whatever accounting school you attended.”
She didn’t have time to pursue the unending argument. “I just need to talk to him.” She didn’t wait for Linda to relay the request.
Fisher got up from his desk as Sere barged in. “How many have escaped this time?”
She closed the door behind her, not that she believed that would stop Linda from eavesdropping. The intercom system was about as sophisticated and secure as two tin cans connected by a string. “I need you to do your financial bloodhound thing, but without the money aspect.”
He fell back into his chair with such force that the purple suspenders of his seersucker suit flapped against his chest. “Come again?”
She grabbed the yellow notepad from in front of him and drew a box with a stick figure inside. “We’ve had no success at all in finding the vault in hell, so I’m trying to focus on Sanguine instead. We know she’s locked in the box that’s isolated from its surrounding dimension, but she’s a physical being, so she needs to be kept alive somehow.”
He leaned forward like a nerdy kid who’d just been given a complex thought puzzle. The first thing he did was draw wiggly lines that didn’t touch the vault. “Suppose this is the surrounding dimension.” He then drew two lines from the box to the outside world. “To power something up, there needs to be two lines: a positive and a negative.” Finally, he drew a little lightbulb over the stick figure of Sanguine. “When I’m searching for answers in the financial world—and can’t see directly what the money is being used for like lighting this bulb—I look for where the money is being pulled out and returned. If you can’t see the light, figure out which socket is drawing power and follow the cord until you hit the lamp.”
Sere stared at the diagram in confusion. “Without seeing any change, though, how do we know where to start looking? I really don’t see how this helps.”
“It shows that your original premise is incorrect. Sanguine isn’t fully isolated.” He pointed at the positive side of his drawing. “Power is coming in. If Marjory’s demon experiment of making you swallow a pellet showed us anything, it’s that you and Sanguine are connected. I think it’s safe to assume that she’s either being powered by you or Jenna. Either way, that’s the power in and won’t help us much in finding her since all you could see when you paid her a visit was the inside of the vault.” He pointed at the other side. “Here, however, Sanguine might have an influence. She can’t completely stop the flow of energy, but if she could hold onto it for a moment then release it, she might be able to send a message.”
“It would be like she was sending an SOS.”
“Exactly. The problem is she would need to put the energy out there in a way Doodlebug could see it. An SOS isn’t much good if no one can detect the signal.”
“Something has to change.” Sere leaned over the desk and kissed Fisher on the cheek. “You really are the most brilliant person I know. All I need to do is tell Sanguine what to do then let Doodlebug know what to look for.”
He blushed ever so slightly. “This superhero sidekick gig does have its perks. How do you expect to get a message to Sanguine?”
Sere knew of only one method, and Fisher wasn’t going to like it. “You’ve trusted me with your life more than once. Think you’re up for handling the other end?”
In Sere’s seldom-used office, she cleared off the random junk from her desk while Fisher locked the door. “I don’t think this is a very good idea. At least let me take you to the professor’s lab, where he can get the pellet out of you when you’re finished.”
She sat on the hard Formica top. “Professor Yates will just give me a thousand reasons why I shouldn’t do it, and before you mention calling in Bart, don’t. He loves me too much to let me descend into hell alone. If anything goes wrong, I can’t be responsible for saving another soul. Getting Jennifer out of that dimension was hard enough. You’re the only one I trust to let me do what I need to do.”
The professional finance guru popped one of the shotgun shells out of Sere’s four-barrel blaster. “Don’t forget, I’ve swallowed one of those pellets myself. The results weren’t something I’d recommend.”
“That was different. You were trying to isolate the demon spirit inside you. I’ve had one of these things inside me before too. I know what I’m doing. I’m just going to slip down the power cord, have a quick chat with Sanguine, then work my way back to my body. Once I wake up, then you can take me to the professor’s offices for a checkup. I’ll deal with his anger after I know I’ve done all I can to locate Sanguine.”
Fisher squeezed one of the pellets out of the orange shell then pulled a sewing kit from the pocket of his blue-striped white jacket. “In my bachelor days, I got pretty good at mending suits. New Orleans can be hell on clothing.” He fashioned a small thread basket around the pellet. “I’m giving you five minutes, then whether you’re conscious or not, I’m pulling this thing out of you and calling Bart.”
“I know you better than that. You’ll be calling Bart the moment I slip into the other dimension. It’s okay. I just need enough time to tell Sanguine what we’re up to.” Sere took the tethered pellet and swallowed it.
As she lay down on the desk, her awareness slipped from her body. The power cord to Jenna in hell that passed through the vault was like a transparent filament running through a bobber on the water’s surface before descending to the hooked fish below. Like a drop from the fishing pole’s tip, Sere slid down the line to the obstruction that kept her on the surface of hell.
The dark, cold room was as desolate as she remembered. Like an angel statue made of stone that someone had stored and forgotten, Sanguine sat against the iron wall with her wings spread and her knees tucked under her chin. “You’re back.”
Sere hated that her guardian angel and mother figure had languished for so long in the interdimensional jail cell. “We have a plan to get you out of here. As a swamp witch, what do you know about the power that’s sustaining you? Can you influence it?”
“What do you think I’ve been doing from the moment I was trapped in here?”
Sere slunk down to the floor. “How?”
“The only direct way I know: the storm. I can’t tell you how that energy manifests, only that the key is the storm. The hurricane is based on my grandmother’s spirit. I can feel her in the bands of energy. She listens to me.”
Sere didn’t see how Doodlebug was supposed to detect a change in a hurricane. The damn things were notoriously unpredictable. “I’m sending a young doppelgänger girl to find you.” She watched Sanguine’s face for any betrayal of emotion. “Jenna is after me. She’s calling herself the Cormorant. A whole religion has formed around her as some avian goddess.”
Sanguine’s wings quivered. “How much have the others told you?”
Sere never could hide anything from her angel. Every thought or suspicion was played out on her face like a flashing billboard. “That you watched over Jenna while you were raising me. I suppose I should thank you for choosing me over her.”
The angel crossed her arms over her knees. “It wasn’t like that. From the moment I met you, you’ve been the most important being in my life. I hated your father for what he did to you. It’s what drove us apart.”
Sere had been a child when she was pulled into hell. Her early memories of her father—before she’d committed suicide and landed in the voodoo realm of Guinee—had been like a dream she knew she’d had but didn’t remember. She had been too young to fully understand what was happening as Kendell and her gang had combated her father, hell’s new devil. Sanguine’s role in the struggle had been the most confusing of all. “Who was he to you?”
