The Devil's Daughter Complete Box Set, page 88
part #1 of The Devil's Daughter Series
“Don’t let that failure fool you. Those pesky dragons have nothing to lose. What they lack in skill, they make up for in numbers and determination. Each pack has been fiercer than the last.” He spread his wings and sailed over the streetcar tracks before the little flamers had a chance to recover.
She kept her focus behind Smoke. Two energetic small dragons finally rose from the slabs of marble and flew after them into the electronic fence. One fell to the ground with his wings sizzling. The other wasn’t so lucky. Only a puff of ash blown to oblivion by the hurricane remained of his attempt.
“I would have thought those little dragons would have more respect for you.” She pressed her body down against his neck, her face even with his ear flaps.
“I should have mentioned I’m not liked by my kind. They consider me an outsider for not doing drugs with them in life. And since in hell, I’m not restricted in where I can go like they are, they have something akin to younger sibling envy when it comes to my freedom.”
She sat up on his back. Chloe had been a good source of information regarding hell, though maybe a little too passionate in her investigations. The swamp ghost had claimed to get her information from checking in on hell and records from the previous witches, but any good researcher would prefer as many direct sources as she could lay her hands on. Doodlebug’s firsthand accounting of dismembering harvesters and goblins might find a prime location on the woman’s reference bookshelf. Though that wouldn’t be the worst place for the journal to end up, Doodlebug wasn’t ready to disclose all of her secrets to some interdimensional busybody just yet. “That was an impressive display of flying—and don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the rescue—but someone stole my journal. How do I know you’re not the one responsible?”
“How would I have known about it?” he asked.
Up until her latest foray into the cemetery, she’d done her best to keep the journal a secret. “You could have been spying on me like some creeper.”
“Do I impress you as the sort who follows little girls?”
Doodlebug was well-aquatinted with evasive non-answers. “How am I supposed to know what you’re like in real life? I can’t think of anyone in this dimension who knew about the book. If you’re so chummy-chummy with Chloe, she could have sent you to fetch it for her. Or maybe you thought it would be a nice present for your mistress.”
He spread his wings and glided on the hurricane. “Do I look like I would fit between those tombs?”
His questions were really starting to bug her. “You could have told someone.”
“Well, I didn’t. Until now, I didn’t even know you kept a diary. You can either believe me, or I can drop you at your apartment.”
She twisted his spikes in her hands. “You don’t have to be so surly. A girl has to suspect everyone she meets in hell of trying to get something out of her.”
He arched his body and turned toward the river. “I’m a dragon. I don’t want anything from you. Your virtue is safe with me.”
The World Trade Center sent its lightning bolts high overhead. “Why must you constantly fly us toward destruction?”
Smoke’s body arced from side to side as his head turned from one end of the river to the other. “Do you see any direct route out of the city that isn’t within firing range?”
She kicked the heels of her tennis shoes against his shoulders. “Okay, but you don’t have to fly so close. I wished you’d stop trying to impress me with your brash disregard for my personal safety. It’s not necessary.”
He folded in his wings to his body and dove toward the river’s wave crests. “Fine. Maybe you’ll prefer it down here.”
She had to dig the heels of her shoes into his scales to keep from sliding down his neck to his head. “Stop being an ass. You’re always trying to scare me. By now you should know it won’t work.”
He leveled out low enough that the spray from the waves hit her face. “I’ve never intentionally tried to frighten you.”
Even close to the water, lightning bolts passed so close overhead that Doodlebug felt as though the reactor were trying to knock her off her steed. “Really? Can you honestly say abducting me when we first met was strictly necessary?”
He dragged his toes through the water as if rinsing the smell of cat from his claws. “You and Chloe needed to meet.”
She wished he would stop horsing around. The Cormorant’s spies didn’t venture far out over the river, but a dragon of Smoke’s size was a bit conspicuous. Bugging him about his flying, however, would likely only make him more reckless, so she stuck with her original line of inquiry. “Then why didn’t she pick someplace more convenient? Hauling me out to the swamp is the kind of thing a molester might do. It wasn’t the best way to make a good first impression.”
“Though she’s a ghost in hell, Chloe can’t materialize just anywhere. I thought she told you that.” He took two hard swings of his shoulders to get them above the levee.
Once across the river, the vegetation grew so dense Doodlebug couldn’t make out land, streets, or homes. “You could have told me where she lived. That way, I would have been able to ride my motorcycle out to meet her.”
He beat his wings so hard and flew so fast, she felt like she was back on her motorcycle. “And risk you being followed by Marjory’s doppelgänger spies? The swamp witch doesn’t want to be identified to Madam Laroque any more than you do. We all have our secrets.”
“I’m just saying—there were options other than kidnapping me.”
“You just say a lot.” He sailed low over the open swamp. “No one forced you to come out here the first time, and this time you asked for my help. How can you be such a badass Doppel Avenger one minute and annoying little sister the next?” He turned into the wind, lifted his head, and tilted his wings to stop his flight before setting his feet on the grassy meadow.
She swung her leg over his neck and let the storm push her down and off his back. “I just don’t like needing anyone for anything.”
“Noted.” The beast kept his wings folded, allowing the storm to beat down on her.
80
Chapter 11
Doodlebug traipsed through the forest, trying to remember where the swamp witch lived. “Everything looks the same out here.”
A black panther that was more shadow than substance stepped into her path. With a purr and a blink, he headed into the depth of the dark woods.
“Well, it’s not like I can get any more lost.” She hurried along to keep close enough not lose sight of the animal.
At a section of trunks that had grown together, he headbutted open the small door, letting out a patch of light.
“What have you brought home for me this time, Midnight?” Chloe asked from inside.
Doodlebug put her hand against the door before it swung shut and stepped inside. “It’s just me.”
“I wasn’t sure I’d see you again.” The witch put her teapot on a wood-burning stove and took a seat on the couch next to the large cat. “I’d offer you something to drink, but being in different dimensions makes sharing a pot a challenge. Did Smoke fly you out here?”
She didn’t want to give the big bat any more credit than was strictly necessary. “He did. Maybe you should cut back on the bitters in your drink recipe. He’s being a bit ornerier than normal.”
Chloe pulled her feet up onto the cushions. “Something tells me he might say the same about you.”
Doodlebug held her fists at her sides and stamped her foot. “He doesn’t listen. Couldn’t you find someone more reasonable as the basis for my dragon?”
“I’m not running a pet store, and Smoke isn’t yours. Learn to work together. Now, did you really come all the way out here to discuss dragon temperaments?”
“No.” Doodlebug struggled to control her emotions. “I’m searching for Sanguine. You told me you two used to talk to each other over different dimensions. Before I lost Sere to Baron Samedi, she said hell’s angel could manipulate her surroundings, but I have no way of knowing if anything has changed. I was hoping to consult my journal to see if a past version of me mentioned something useful, but the book wasn’t where I left it. Did you take it?” Even though Chloe was only a ghost in hell, keeping the book in the crypt meant the original diary was back among the living where the real witch could easily snatch it.
Chloe eased her feet off the couch and put her elbows on her knees. “Maybe I should have. You and Dooly can’t be so careless as to leave information like that lying around. But no, I don’t have it.”
Doodlebug couldn’t see any reason why the woman would hide the truth. “Since I can’t consult my memories regarding changes to hell, do you have any idea what Sere was talking about?”
Chloe got up and headed for the back wall, which served as a kitchen. She opened a cabinet that had been built into the wall. Inside were shelves full of open mason jars, some overflowing with water. “These are my mirror jars. Over time, I’ve collected water from the swamp in your dimension. Each of these containers represents a different situation in hell.”
Doodlebug had no idea how a bunch of jars filled with water were supposed to help. “I don’t understand.”
“Which part?”
“Any of it.”
Chloe picked up an overflowing jar. Though the water ran over her hand, it didn’t make it to the floor in Doodlebug’s dimension. “This is what you’re currently experiencing. The hurricane outside makes the water rise in the swamp, so this jar is constantly overflowing.”
Doodlebug looked at the other glass containers in the cabinet. “But what’s with the rest of the jars? There’s always a hurricane outside. Why aren’t they all overflowing?”
“Now there’s a hurricane. That wasn’t always the case.” She set the turbulent container on the table and pulled out another jar. Though water still streamed down the sides, it wasn’t nearly as active. “You do, however, have a valid point about changes to your version of now. I collected this sample just after Sere faced her first demon in life.”
The science experiment was nearly as boring as Dooly’s attempted explanation of time. “So the storm got worse. Is that what you’re saying? How is that any help at all?”
Chloe picked up the two jars. “This is the difference between when Sanguine was first held captive and what’s going on outside. The professor’s projected doppelgänger reality and the Wiccan-based underlying structure of hell work on different principles. Time in your dimension hasn’t changed between these two samples. So even though events progress for you, these samples should be the same.”
Doodlebug stared at the two jars. “Then what’s happening?”
“If what Sere told you is true, this might be Sanguine calling out for help in the only way she can.”
Witchcraft ranked right below science on Doodlebug’s list of pursuits that didn’t make any sense. Still, defending the living against demon invasion meant she’d seen a thing or two in hell. “So Sanguine is calling out to the storm. That would make the middle of the hurricane the most logical place for her to be trapped. Both Agnes and Sanguine performed their spells and potions out in the swamp. I’ve been to their island. It’s nice, right smack in the eye of the storm. But I didn’t see any eight-foot-square iron box out there.”
“You wouldn’t see it. It’s invisible.” Chloe shook her head. “But it’s not there. That was the first place I checked when Sanguine stopped responding to me. As a fellow witch’s sanctuary, it’s one of the few places in hell that I can manifest. The cabin is where she’s supposed to be. It’s her safe house. No one other than those she allows to can step foot on the island. Did Sere say anything else about the vault?”
“Since it was last seen in the river, she thinks the Cormorant may have found it. My belief is that Marjory Laroque wants it, but Sere isn’t so sure.”
Chloe bounced the back of her shoulders against the cabin wall as she bit her lip. “Assuming you’re right, if Madam Laroque knew where it was, there would be an all-out struggle for the box. Since there isn’t, I think it’s safe to assume she’s still searching for it. That would mean it would have to be hidden somewhere her doppelgänger spies couldn’t easily locate it. And if the Cormorant does have it, she wouldn’t want it too far from her reach. She’d stash it close to the river. That narrows down our search area considerably.”
Doodlebug clenched her hands into fists. “You mean like the professor’s damn laboratory?”
Chloe shook her head between hits to the tree trunk wall. “We’d have bumped into it. Though there might be a secret unused nook or two, a safe that big would be impossible to hide in any dimensional version of his offices. But the location does fulfill all of the requirements.”
Doodlebug locked onto Chloe with her laser stare of disapproval. “You didn’t say anything about requirements.”
“Sanguine isn’t a doppelgänger. She came to hell as a human being. Though this realm bends itself to her desires, she does still suffer the physical demands of a regular living person, which means she’s somehow being fed energy. And that means the vault is hooked up to a power source.” The witch took a cypress herb box from the table and dumped out the contents. Then she fashioned a small human figure out of straw and locked it inside. “Pretend this is Sanguine in the vault. She can’t be detected by any of our senses, but she can access the power that’s being fed to her. How would she influence her surroundings?”
Doodlebug continued to fume. “I hate riddles. Just tell me the answer.”
“I don’t have the answer. We’re trying to figure this out together. This is what people do when they have to solve a problem. They think it out by challenging each other.”
“I don’t work well with others.”
“Clearly. Now think.” Chloe shook the box. “How could Sanguine get a message to us? And if you say ‘magic,’ I’m going to hit you with this box.”
“You can’t. You’re not really here.”
“Now there’s a thought worth pursuing.” Chloe put the box on the table. “I’m not really there just as Sanguine being in the in-between dimensional box isn’t really in hell.”
“But you said Sanguine couldn’t be seen or heard. I can see and hear you.”
Chloe nodded. “That’s because my soul is interacting with the energy in hell similar to how a prism separates light. I isolate the green vibrations for my dress and reds for my face. You get the idea.”
Not really. Doodlebug kept the comment to herself. She didn’t want to sound any stupider than she already felt. “How does this help us figure out where Sanguine is being held?”
“We know she’s interacting with whatever is around her, and that’s how she’s making the storm worse. She can’t throw levers or cast spells, but she can manipulate energy.”
“You mean like inside a computer?” Doodlebug asked.
“Exactly. We don’t need to worry about the how so much as the where. If she’s messing with the storm, she needs to be somewhere fundamental to the inner workings of hell. That’s why the professor’s equipment would have made sense.”
Doodlebug fell into the chair behind her and bit her lower lip. “Those little magic jars of yours wouldn’t happen to tell you about the storm’s lightning situation, would they?”
“No. Why? What’s happening with the lightning?”
“It’s coming from the World Trade Center and discharging into the storm. It damn near lit Smoke on fire as he flew over the waves.”
Chloe collapsed back onto the couch next to her big cat. “With the runaway paranormal reaction going on in that tower, Sanguine would have a lot of power over the storm even if she doesn’t realize what she’s doing. Between the voodoo totems that the baron hauled up there, the scientific containment field that was supposed to keep all of the magical items safely dormant, and Sanguine’s witch magic, that storm could tear a hole straight through all three dimensions. At the very least, that would explain how the hellmouth became unstable enough to let the demons through.”
The thought of entering the paranormal reactor made the flames of hell seem like a pleasant little campfire. “I’ve never heard of a single doppelgänger trying to enter that building.”
“Let’s work this out.” Chloe leaned forward. “First up are the sentient beings of the professor’s projections: ghosts and goblins, harvesters and freaks. A ghost can only go where its energy extended during its existence. Ghosts are like footprints in the sand waiting for the water to wash them away, making it unlikely that a ghost would find its way into the tower. Goblins and harvesters have to rely on dialed-down energy from the World Trade Center to survive, but giving them the power directly—like from the streetcar lines—would zap them to dust. So if a goblin or harvester attempted entry, they would become a fire wraith. Seems like a pretty strong incentive to keep away.”
“That leaves us freaks who skirt our updates. But first, what happens to a normal doppelgänger that opens the door?” Doodlebug asked.
“Energy is funneled through the professor’s equipment to the living dolls in hell, so doppelgängers can get around the city without physical restrictions, but I’d guess that much raw power would scramble the signal like a dropped cell phone call.”
“And me?” Doodlebug hated to ask. No matter Chloe’s answer, it wouldn’t bode well.
Chloe ran the tips of her long, wavy blond hair through her fingers. “You’re like my friend Smoke—direct connection to your real. If you’ve got your headband on, you’re not completely reliant on the professor’s equipment. It works like a backup system.”
