The Devil's Daughter Complete Box Set, page 85
part #1 of The Devil's Daughter Series
She stood without realizing the action. The violin in her hand was both familiar and alien at the same time. I want to see what I’m wearing. At the floor-to-ceiling mirror next to the kitchen door, she saw herself as never before. The flower-print free-flowing short dress did wonders for attracting attention—from both men and women—but it worked best on warm spring days with a light breeze to move the fabric around her diminutive body. The black boots laced up to above her knees added to the sexy street performer look. She fluffed her recently cut short hair. It’s springy. She turned back to her bag on the bench and pulled out the feathered bird mask. It would be challenging to keep the beak off the strings, but she’d played in more challenging conditions.
A dude wearing an identical mask and carrying his guitar by the neck like he was trying to strangle the poor thing poked his face through the doorway. “I’m Lewis, your protector and chaperone for the evening. You coming, or what?”
She turned from the mirror to him fast enough to give her dress a seductive twirl. “Sorry. Just getting myself together.”
Passing through the unassuming side entrance from the kitchen to the opulent grand ballroom made her stand in wonder. A chandelier larger than her whole body hung from the middle of the ceiling. The power needed to light the dozens of bulbs to full intensity could illuminate Doodlebug’s entire hotel. Plaster cherubs being chased by demons decorated the cornice. Like the twinkling light off the cut crystal, her attention wafted down the red-and-black fleur-de-lis wallpaper to the growing crowd of elegantly dressed guests.
Lewis nodded toward the stage in the corner of the room. “Keep moving. You don’t want to draw attention.”
She quickly lowered her head and shuffled along behind him. The banquet table loaded down with iced seafood and raw fish tempted her with its smells. The spread must be in honor of the Cormorant.
“I’d bet anything they’re making us walk beside all this food as a way of tormenting the underprivileged entertainers,” she said out loud without realizing it.
“It would sure beat the cold pizza I had last night,” he whispered over his shoulder.
Keep it together, girl. This isn’t the time or place for flirting. She stepped up on stage and scrunched behind the dude to be as inconspicuous as possible. The room was quickly filling with elegant partygoers, but she found it impossible to tell one person from the next. Everyone was wearing outfits either accentuated with black feathers or completely covered in them. Combined with their bird masks, she feared the Cormorant might be standing right in front of her and she wouldn’t notice. It’s like a conspiracy of ravens in here.
She let her gaze roam around the room. The overlaying images of life and hell blurred her vision like she’d had too many glasses of champagne. Apparently rich doppelgängers don’t find it necessary to follow the actions of their reals. Though if the Cormorant were here, I suspect I’d notice. She doesn’t seem like the type of deity to remain in the shadows.
The musicians around her began preparing their instruments. Her hand holding the violin swung the instrument under her chin while the other teased the bow over the strings.
If this reconnaissance is going to work, I need to be able to see hell. I need to keep playing, but my eyes need to focus on one dimension. As she lost herself to her music, another piece of her felt like a damsel imprisoned in a medieval torture device that she could only see out of. Without distracting a single muscle movement—from the delicately precise finger thrusts against the strings to the swaying of her back in rhythm with the playing—she turned her eyes to the room. As providers of background noise to the far more important conversations, the musicians received less attention than the serving staff behind the banquet table. Even if someone in the crowd did know of the Doppel Avenger, none of them would cast a glance in her direction for fear of validating the hired help.
Women in short black wings and even shorter dresses laughed over their wine glasses at men in feathered tuxedoes with long tails. Seeing them attempting to slip the fluted glassware under the ungainly long bird beaks made her wonder why they didn’t just take the stupid things off. No one wants to be easily identified, but is that out of reverence to the Cormorant, respect for Marjory’s wishes, or fear of being recognized by the hired help? In hell, knowledge of other’s secrets was the only true currency. Being identified as one of the Laroques’ upper echelon would make any of the partygoers prime targets for abduction.
In the center of the ballroom, Marjory Laroque was impossible to miss. The diamonds that dripped from her earlobes and neck caught the light of the chandelier and passed it to the crowd like a Mardi Gras queen tossing strings of colorful beads to the revelers. Unlike the other guests, her mask—studded with rubies, sapphires, and with a peacock-feather flourish—called attention to the woman, highlighting more than covering her eyes and nose.
There’s Gerald Laroque. I’d recognize the former chief of police anywhere. I would have thought he could have gone with a better costume. Without the feathered shoulders and leather bird mask, the man could have been going to a night of opera in his well-tailored tux. His lack of illusion is probably deliberate. Even in his eighties, the man served as his sister’s bodyguard in image if not in practice. And since Doodlebug could spot the man standing next to the most fashionably attired woman in the room, the Cormorant would know who to approach as well—as if Marjory needed more of an introduction. With Dooly’s help, Doodlebug made a slow survey of the room. Looks like the guest of honor likes to be fashionably late. She’s probably waiting to make a grand entrance. Individuals who think themselves gods like making a scene. I need to keep my cool when I do see her.
With fighting not being an option, she was out of her depths. She needed to know if she could trust the Cormorant to be true to Nocturne’s offer. Their meeting at the airport gate seemed like a lifetime ago. If Marjory and the Cormorant were overly chummy, even that offered union could be in peril. Joining forces with the harvesters, however, still made her skin crawl. I’m just here to watch how events play out.
The twelve-foot tall French doors across the ballroom burst open, causing the musicians to lower their instruments. Two rows of harvesters dressed in capes so black they sucked the light from the room marched through the party, cutting a lane from doorway to hostess.
She snuck farther behind the guitarist in front of her as she noticed Nocturne leading the processional. I should have expected him. If he spots me, I’m screwed.
Being seven feet tall, the Cormorant filled the doorway and looked over the heads of the guests as if expecting them to bow down to her. Her long, muscular human legs looked to have come off of a fashion model as she sashayed down the harvester-lined runway. Every one of the fiends obediently lowered his head as she passed. As she approached Marjory, the Cormorant—with all the grace of a ballet dancer—extended her thin arm, which ended in a perfectly manicured hand. Judging by the downward curled fingers, the gesture wasn’t an offered handshake. To Dooly’s amazement, the most powerful businesswoman in New Orleans bent over slightly to kiss the hand. “We meet at last.”
The Cormorant turned away from the old woman. The glossy-black feathers that covered her body like a one-piece swimsuit displayed not a single feminine curve. She spread her wings, blocking out both Laroques as if to proclaim that they no longer mattered. “When I enter a room, I expect my subjects to show the correct reverence.” Though the birdwoman’s human vocal cords came with the replacement neck and chin, forming the words with the beak resulted in chirping at the end of the sentence.
Lewis, who had been standing in front of Dooly, was one of the first to fall to his knees. To keep from being spotted, she quickly followed his lead. As the crowd knelt, the birdwoman lowered her wings.
From Doodlebug’s position at the side of the grand meeting, she saw that both Marjory and her brother had remained standing.
Madam Laroque’s ridged stance and clenched fists made it clear she was holding in her displeasure. “Now that the niceties are completed, I’ve cleared the adjoining library of furniture for your comfort. We have a lot to discuss.”
The Cormorant aimed her beak over the crowd. “My loyal disciples will remain guard over this hall.”
Marjory circled in front of the Cormorant. “Your troops are, of course, welcome to join the festivities. But any security of this mansion passes through my brother.”
Regardless of who was in charge, one thing was clear: Doodlebug as Dooly wouldn’t be sneaking into the meeting or making a discrete escape. All she could do was keep playing and hope she remained hidden from Nocturne.
As the night wore on, Doodlebug found that by focusing on what she saw while Dooly played allowed her a small section of self-awareness in their shared brain. She’d lost track of how many pieces had been performed on the violin. Her fingers hurt. Fighting involved the use of all of her body’s muscles. Playing focused way too much attention on precise movements while the rest of her was expected to remain at attention. When the grand double doors finally opened and Dooly lowered the instrument, she couldn’t straighten out her fingers. About damn time, Doodlebug thought.
Waiting is always the hard part, Dooly responded. Provided it’s not in anticipation of a death sentence.
Marjory and the Cormorant marched beside each other to the head of the room. With a slight bow from the birdwoman, Marjory raised her head to the crowd. “We have formed an alliance.”
Harvesters and doppelgängers applauded with solemn reverence. Gerald edged close to his sister’s side. “Shouldn’t we remove the hired help?”
Marjory turned to him and smiled. “No need. What I have to say concerns them as well—word needs to spread among the lower classes.”
He bowed and resumed his position next to her.
“I’ll start with the most basic concern we all share: any member of the Laroque family will be spared from the harvesters. Additionally, any doppelgänger can earn favor with the family by bowing down to the Cormorant.” She turned toward the buffet table, with the gull-feathered wait staff behind it, and the neighboring musicians. “But understand that such privilege comes at a price. Those of you with nothing else to offer can present yourselves to a harvester site, where a token body part will suffice as payment. In return, you will be given one of these.” She held up what looked like a golden Mardi Gras doubloon. Turning it in the light, she displayed a silhouette of herself on one side and the Cormorant on the other.
“Fat lot of good that does,” Lewis said out of the corner of his mouth. “Any doppelgänger who loses a body part is already safe from the monsters.”
Marjory palmed the coin like a two-bit hustler. “In return, the Cormorant will have the Laroque family’s allegiance in this domain. She is the sovereign spirit of the damned, and we will revere her as such as she aids us in our quest for immortality among the living. My mission remains clear: each of you here, my family, will find unity—doppelgänger and real—into immortality in life. To accomplish this, our first task is to locate Sere Mal-Laurette. She has the information I need to complete my tests. She must not be killed by human, demon, or harvester.”
That’s quite the bluff considering her bridge of the damned has been destroyed, Doodlebug thought to Dooly. Though with one human soul at the ready in the professor’s hell laboratory, she could still follow through on her testing. If it works, there will be no stopping her in creating another connection.
A man in a full-feathered tuxedo stepped under the chandelier. “What about Creed and Devlin? We demand retribution for the harm the devil’s daughter has wrought on our kin.”
Marjory held her ebony cane in front of her. “To achieve our goals, some sacrifices must be made. Creed’s doppelgänger and Devlin—both human and copy—will not be forgotten. But once I have Sere’s knowledge, she will be given over to the Cormorant. No action will be taken by us that harms the devil’s daughter. If our agreement conflicts with your lust for vengeance, you’re free to leave.”
The tips of the long feathers on the man’s mask quivered. “I meant no disrespect. Does the deity have any clue where to look for our adversary?”
Squawking and chirping preceded the birdwoman’s words. “The last we saw of her, she was entering the professor’s offices here in hell with the spirit of her real. With his security system preventing me from stepping through the door, and my harvesters unable to cross the streetcar tracks, we’ve been unable to verify if she is still inside. This is why I need your submission. I could prevail on the doppelgänger residents of the Quarter, but they don’t have the resources to discover a means of entry.”
“And we’re not likely to join forces, with her harvesters hunting us like rabbits,” the guitarist mumbled to Doodlebug.
“We’ll do what we can to break into the laboratory, but it’s not like Sere to hide,” Marjory said. “She’ll make herself known soon enough, either in hell or life. In either dimension, we need to be ready.”
Nocturne’s bones rattled as he stepped forward from the line of harvesters. “Getting into the laboratory isn’t just about finding the immortal.”
Though the Cormorant was unable to make the beak form a smile, Doodlebug could swear she saw the muscles of the birdwoman’s cheeks pull at the appendage. “My lieutenant is correct.” She turned to Marjory. “Madam Laroque has a spy working on the inside.”
Marjory stood as stiff as her walking stick. “Like finding Sere Mal-Laurette, we share a need to access the computers that run hell. However, I haven’t been able to contact Andy since my attempt at raising Devlin to immortal status. Every doppelgänger that we command is tasked with searching hell to find him. If we can’t locate the little prick, we’ll need to figure out another way around the professor’s security system.”
Doodlebug marveled at how artfully the woman had concealed her secret weapon. Without anything else to do, Aloysius’s soul stuck in the professor’s hell-based equipment would be busily figuring out how to circumvent the security system. If either of the women knew anything about Sere’s true fate, neither of them let on. The Cormorant strutted out of the room without a clue that she was likely being played if not outright lied to.
77
Chapter 8
With a nod from Gerald Laroque, the musicians lowered their instruments for the last time. As Dooly let out a long sigh, Doodlebug held her body at attention. The different actions separated the two like a ziplock bag being opened. Thank you, Dooly. Doodlebug’s final thought to the girl was less out of gratitude than relief.
Like having just gained possession of a new sword, Doodlebug, while still on stage, discretely ran her hands over her updated body to ascertain any new weaknesses or strengths. The hair was shorter than she was used to, but when it came to fighting, that could prove helpful. The dress was even worse than the peasant blouse and maid skirt she’d arrived in, but her motorcycle was close enough that—with the benefit of the rain slicker she’d left in the foyer—she could change into something more hell appropriate before the dress was whisked off her body by the storm. The wide-heeled dominatrix boots, however, weren’t going to be of much use in the mud. “Good thing I threw a set of Keds in my backpack. I just need to get back to the motorcycle without landing in the gutter.”
As the last of the guests wandered off after the Cormorant into the storm, Doodlebug followed the rest of the hired help as they lined up at the kitchen door for their payment. She stuck close to the guitarist. Though the majority of her worries had passed, she wasn’t yet out of danger. A gold doubloon was pressed into her palm as she exited the ballroom. She turned the coin in her fingers, wondering if it really would protect a doppelgänger if presented to a harvester.
“Not bad for a night’s work.” Lewis stashed his coin under the frayed top edge of his guitar case.
She grabbed her slicker and secured it around her body before heading out the back door. Reaching into her pocket, she toyed with the terry-cloth headband. She slipped it on, more to keep the bangs from the new haircut out of her eyes than to contact Dooly. “I wouldn’t put a lot of trust in anything you heard tonight. Doppelgängers might not outright lie, but the version of Marjory Laroque we heard tonight was heavily under the influence of her real. From my experience, people from the other side lie as part of their daily existence.”
Lewis walked beside her into the storm. “And the Cormorant? It was her teachings that led us to truth. You must believe what she had to say.”
The religious undertones made Doodlebug shiver even more than the driving rain. “She may be the greatest manipulator of them all.”
He shrugged and stared into the wind. “Doesn’t matter to me. So long as those in the Quarter think these pieces of gold will finally keep them safe, they’ll offer everything they have to get one. All I have to do is hang on to mine until the rumors grow out of proportion, then I’ll live like a king.”
“So long as others don’t sacrifice their limbs at harvester bars first.” The image of the parents voluntarily sacrificing body parts still haunted Doodlebug.
“Do you honestly think those monsters will live up to the agreement the Cormorant made with Marjory? Even if the harvesters do bow down to the bird deity, not many worshipers truly followed the tenets of their spiritual leaders. I doubt anything will really change between harvesters and doppelgängers. There’s too much history and demand for body parts for there to be peace.” He shook his guitar case, rattling the medallion nestled in the top as if making sure it wouldn’t fall out. “Each time someone tries for a coin like a carousel’s brass ring and has it snatched out of their grasp, the more this doubloon will be worth.”
“Back at the party, you were the one who said agreeing to the Cormorant’s terms didn’t matter. The harvesters need to keep their victims alive.”
