The Devil's Daughter Complete Box Set, page 96
part #1 of The Devil's Daughter Series
Even though I can’t see the bastard, I can’t stay up here all night. If Bart’s right, which he almost always is, our demon prey could be running through the shadows to raise the alarm while I lie here like an idiot. Sere eased her legs off the ledge and held onto the lip to avoid a noisy entrance like the one Bart had made. She let go and landed with bent knees to cushion the impact.
Darkness was a friend to Sere, but any demon accustomed to the forever night of hell would be equally at home in the shadows. She pulled the knife from her boot. Her prey would either be holding his vigil, creeping up on Bart to investigate, or slinking back toward the tunnel opening. If the idiot was too dense not to have heard Bart’s landing, the former Navy SEAL would flush him out soon enough. Bart could take care of himself, which meant circling around to help would only result in a firm chastisement. The bigger threat was that the demon might already be working his way toward the rear of the cemetery.
Sere crept past the first crypt then gazed down the long pathway. Not even a rat could be seen moving in the shadows, so she hurried to the next road in the city of the dead—again, nothing. This is stupid. He could be running full speed toward the far end of the grounds. She hustled to the next passage but took a more cursory glance to be sure she wasn’t seen.
As she crossed from the old section of cemetery to the relatively newer area, she stopped pretending to search for the demon. If he was this far back, he’d already detected the invaders. She turned down the marble-strewn path toward the closest of Baron Malveaux’s crypts listed on Fisher’s map. As she passed the polished marble door with its carved cherubs and demons, she gave it a firm pat to ensure that it was sealed. Darting back toward the end of the cemetery, she focused on the tombs. Four down and two over.
She overshot her mental map. As she turned back, a blanket covered her face as if she’d run into the dense fabric drying on a line. She swung at it with her knife, hoping to skewer whatever attacker had lain in wait. Instead, a hand grabbed her wrist and twisted it behind her. A foot kicked her behind the knee, forcing her to the ground. She fought against the wool as if it were the one doing the attacking, but ropes wound around her torso and limbs then tightened like nooses before a hanging. The ground rasped under her until the jagged rocks were left behind. Smooth marble indicated that she was no longer out in the open. A low rock rumble announced the closing of the crypt.
89
Chapter 4
As Sere felt the regular, thumping splat of each wet brick in the tunnel against her bound body, her primary worry was that Bart would do something stupid like try to rescue her. Of course, he would have to do something, but Bart going in alone and emotional would only land both of them in Marjory’s hands. After what felt like hours, the ground under the soggy blanket wrapped around her transitioned from moldy bricks to the familiar concrete of the bank’s basement. The brute hauling her by her feet dropped his load.
The blanket was pulled from her face, revealing Marjory Laroque, who looked at her smugly. “I really expected catching you to be considerably harder.”
Sere spit the taste of wool, dust, and corpses from her mouth. “There had to be easier ways to arrange a meeting.”
“Oh, I think the time for talking is over. Look around you. You’ve lost.”
Sere stared up at the two hulking brutes who’d abducted her. Based on their girth and strength, they were clearly of Gerald’s linage. The lack of redness in the eyes and their tanned skin made it clear they weren’t demons from hell.
“I would have thought you’d rely on your new militia.”
Marjory backed up and waved at the cages behind her. Dragons huffed and paced around the floor-to-ceiling metal prison cells like dogs in a shelter. In front of each enclosure sat a demon wearing a collar and a leash. “You mean my prize possessions? I wouldn’t dare risk losing even one.”
“I don’t get it,” Sere said. “Why bring forth an army of the damned just to imprison them?”
Marjory leaned on her cane and shook her head. “You really are full of yourself, aren’t you? You think I did all of this just to do battle with you and your friends? These are my test subjects.”
Sere rolled back against the floor to glare at the woman. “You can’t possibly still be trying to create an immortal. The hellmouth is closed and your bridge of the damned destroyed. All you’ve got left is that iron box, but without a way to power it, you might as well use it to store your antiques. Like it or not, Aloysius was the closest you came to success. Where is that devil, anyway?”
“Safely away from you and your little marble pellets. You think I didn’t figure out how you destroyed my sweet Devlin? That stupid little rock was all that was left when he turned to dust.”
Sere smiled. “You played your hand, and I played mine.”
“You may have won that battle, but this room will be the scene of your ultimate defeat. I have everything I need from your foolish dimension right here.”
Sere tried putting together the puzzle pieces Marjory clearly believed she’d collected. “What makes you think that just because you have some of hell’s creations you can make yourself immortal? From what I can see, you don’t even have your personal doppelgänger. If I were more versed in the subtleties of deceit, I’d say you were bluffing.”
Marjory held her cane to her side. “Why would I want to spend all of eternity in this old body when you’re proof that I don’t have to?”
“So you’re planning on taking my body?” Sere wondered why the powerful seemed drawn to Jennifer’s homemaker image.
“I’ll use you if I have to, but you’re not my first choice. I don’t relish being a squeaky little redheaded girl. Your soul, however, is as powerful as that of anyone I’ve ever met, with the possible exception of your father.” She towered over Sere. “Our family connection should make it easier for me to tap into your spiritual energy the way Aloysius did with Doodlebug. You’re my power source.”
“So you believe I’m the connection to hell that you need for making your immortals?”
“Not just you.” She turned to the cages. “Those beasts weren’t meant simply to fly my family’s doppelgängers out to the vaults. My immortal heirs will have the hearts of dragons as those beasts are crushed in my vault to release their power.”
“You can knock on hell’s door all you want, but the gate is still closed. Even the professor can’t tell what’s happening in that dimension. You may have that stupid vault, but you still lose.”
Marjory walked back to the table then picked up the baron’s old journal. “Then you and I will have to find a way of opening it. Your father had some interesting ideas on possessing another’s body. I know firsthand how successful he was with Myles Garrison.”
Sere wished she could sit up so she could spit on the woman. “Do you honestly believe you could fool those around me into helping you?”
“No. The baron was an expert manipulator, and even he didn’t bother trying to convince others he was still the foolish bartender. I’ve seen the lengths those around you will go to rescue you or help you with your cause. When the fools see that you’ve been possessed, I expect superhero antics from them in their attempt to save you.” She leaned down over Sere. “And we both know where you belong. To get me out of you, your spirit will have to make the journey back to hell. The door may be locked, but with you, I have the key.”
Of all of Sere’s fears, being driven from her body ranked the highest. From day one, the nascent spirit of Jenna had wanted the return of her doppelgänger form. As the Cormorant, Jenna had found a more impressive presentation—one that inspired religious awe in her followers. With Jennifer’s mirror ruling hell, Sere had even less incentive to return to the cursed dimension. So long as Sere remained among the living, Jenna couldn’t reach her.
Baron Samedi and the other loas of the dead had made it clear that her soul belonged to them and living in the reproduction form was an abomination in their eyes. The spectral spirits of death had haunted her from the shadows throughout her existence, though she’d won a reprieve from them by rescuing the souls Marjory had stolen. How long that consideration would last was a question that plagued her.
Hunched in the corner of the vault, still bound, Sere wondered what would really happen when Marjory closed the door. Though there wasn’t anything she could do to defend herself physically, she did still have options spiritually. “You do realize any sane scientist wouldn’t experiment on herself.”
Marjory consulted the journal then set it back on the table. “I think we can both assume that sanity doesn’t really play a part in anything the baron devised.” She entered the vault and pulled the locking wheel behind her.
The smells of old iron, singed electronics, and ancient curses teased at Sere’s doppelgänger nose. Her body responded to the sensations by making her vomit. The last time she’d been in one of the iron boxes, Sere wasn’t the one processing the physical inputs to her senses—Jenna had done that, and Sere had been just about to steal the doppelganger girl’s body.
“Fuck you, Father.”
Marjory kicked Sere onto her stomach. “There’s not much point in keeping you tied up. I’d hate to have to wait for others to free me before making my grand debut. The energy should start flowing between us any moment now.”
“Unless you fucked up. Tell me, what exactly makes you think you’re going to be the dominant force in this unwanted union?”
Marjory yanked at the knots with her arthritic fingers. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m used to getting what I want.”
Every hair on Sere’s arms and legs stood on end. Her eyes stung. A loud buzzing that felt like it was coming from inside her head made her wish she could jab a knife in her ears. Her hands were free, but all she could use them for was to cover her face. The acrid smell of voodoo potions not only penetrated her nose but oozed down the back of her throat as well. Sere could just make out Marjory’s screaming past the growing clamor in her head. She recognized it as a reaction to the transfer.
The soul of Marjory Laroque loomed over Sere’s consciousness, attempting to invade her against her will. “I’ll take what’s mine.”
“The hell you will!” Sere screamed. She sought her memories for Joe’s teachings. Her fighting mentor, father figure, and friend had taught her all manner of combat preparedness, both physical and mental.
“That’s right, retreat into your memories,” Marjory said.
The view shifted as Sere’s eyes swept the vault, but she wasn’t the one moving the muscles. If you can’t win, retreat to a place you can defend, and regroup. Just because you’ve ceded the ground to your enemy, that doesn’t mean they won’t still have to work to command it. Just don’t take forever in your counterattack. The memory of Joe’s lecture after an especially humiliating defeat by him made her feel like a child sitting in front of her teacher.
Though Sere’s body still belonged to her, Marjory’s understanding of the baron’s writings threatened that tenuous control. Sere felt destined to lose the battle with the woman. Marjory, however, wouldn’t know there was a trap door Sere could escape through.
The inside of the computer was as hard, cold, and calculating as the professor himself. Sere’s primary consolation was that if Marjory chose to chase her into the software, she’d be trapped like a rat in a cage, where escape was only possible if the mechanism could be deciphered. Fuck, I’m even starting to think like a computer. As always, swearing provided a good way for Sere to hang onto her humanity.
She took a moment to orient her perceptions. Every computer connected to the professor’s equipment had its own camera, so seeing was disorienting but simple enough to understand. Similarly, hearing could be deciphered so long as she focused on only one input at a time. Her senses of smell, touch, and taste remained grounded in the vault. At least I still have those connections to my body.
She focused on the screen displaying Polly Urethane hard at work. The computation regarding a search for lost doppelgängers would take weeks at the speed the woman was going, but Sere guessed that having anything to do beat sitting idle. “Um, excuse me.”
Polly jumped out of her chair and stared at the screen like it was possessed. “What’s going on?”
“Sorry, Polly. It’s me, Sere. We’ve got a problem. Marjory has infiltrated my body. My only escape was into the computer software. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Polly hurried back to her seat. “Shit. What do you need me to do?”
“Get everyone rounded up—Bart, Kendell, Doodlebug, anyone you can haul in on short notice. Call Bart first. He was with me on our adventure. I don’t need him trying to do something heroic and making things worse. I know it’s early.” One advantage of being mostly computer was that Sere didn’t need to consult her watch to know the time. At least those working at the Scratchy Dog wouldn’t mind the early hour. While early morning might mean the start of the day for most, Myles and Kendell would still be cleaning up after a long night.
“Are you okay?”
Sere had known that would be the first question everyone would ask. “I’m in contact with my body. It’s still in the vault under the bank, but I don’t expect Marjory to be hiding out forever. Once she feels she has control over the limbs and realizes I’m not sitting in wait for a counterattack, she’ll open the box.”
“So we don’t have much time.” Polly pulled out her sugar skull-covered cell phone. “Bart, it’s Polly. Sere’s soul is here with me in the computers. She’s mostly okay. She says get that hot ass moving. We’ve got trouble.”
Sere tried to laugh, but the computer had trouble processing the reaction. While Polly made contact with the others, Sere investigated her digital surroundings. The computers continued gathering data from all points of the map surrounding New Orleans, but only those people who’d been residents for six months had the information uploaded to the professor’s hell cloud. From there, the basis of every doppelgänger disappeared like rain emanating from hell’s hurricane. An entire bank of computers sat idle, waiting for some hint of what was happening in the foreign dimension. The whole process still mystified her.
“Hey, kiddo.” The professor sat in his old Barcalounger, wearing pajamas and an old robe. He hadn’t called her that in years.
“Do you even go home anymore?” she asked.
“And miss out on the latest impending apocalypse? Not on your immortal life. So, what does our dear Marjory Laroque think she’s up to this time?” He pulled out his pipe and started the ritual of cleaning it.
Sere checked to be sure Polly had finished her calls for help. “Marjory believes that if she takes a real and their doppelgänger then crushes another doppelgänger with a direct link to the computer—like Doodlebug—she’ll be able to access your stored data and download it to the doppelgänger brain.”
Polly drew out the idea in stick figures the way the professor often did. “But Doodlebug was unique. She was part of Marjory’s malware demonic bridge of the damned. Now that she’s on this side, Marjory couldn’t use her again.”
“She doesn’t need to,” the professor said. “Those dragons of hers aren’t the direct creation of our equipment.”
“So the dragons are a result of the malware?” Polly asked as Doodlebug snuck into the office. The computer’s silent alarm went off at the doppelgänger intrusion.
“Yes. They create a back door into my equipment.”
Doodlebug stood behind Polly. “Chloe said they were the result of a drug concoction fed to their reals.”
“But how are the dragons continuing to exist with the hellmouth closed?” Sere asked.
“The same way you do.” The professor pulled out a button from his shirt. “Sanguine might be the blockage to the gate, but Jennifer, Jenna, and you are the thread that runs through the hole in the center of the button. It would appear that Marjory has found a way to punch more threads through the hole.”
“Then there are other mirrors in hell like Jenna?” Sere asked.
Professor Yates refastened the top button of his cotton pajama shirt. “It would be worth investigating, assuming we had the resources in hell.”
Bart burst through the door so hard that Sere was surprised it hadn’t shattered. He looked around the room in confusion. “Where is she?”
Polly got out of her chair then put her hand against his chest. “Calm down. She’s okay, but Marjory has control of her body.”
Kendell and Myles came in just as Polly finished her sentence. “I don’t see how that’s okay, Polly,” Kendell said in a tone that matched Bart’s.
“I’m right here,” Sere said, using every speaker in the office. “I need you all to take a breath while we figure out our next move.”
“Our next move is obvious,” Bart said. “We have to get you out of that computer and back into your body. The longer Marjory has control of it, the harder the exorcism.”
“Before we go off half-cocked,” Doodlebug said, “why does she even want Sere’s body?”
Sere really wished she could form a fist and hit something. “She is using me as bait in a trap. Ultimately, she wants the hellmouth reopened. She figures if I can’t or won’t do it, you all will to do it to save me. So far, I’ve played right into her hands by occupying the computer, but I didn’t see any other choice.”
Bart leaned over the closest monitor. “This isn’t what we planned. I’ve spent the last hour pulling apart tombs, searching for you.”
Sere tried to snicker, and again, the computer had trouble figuring it out. “I’m sorry. The whole thing was a setup. She didn’t even have any of the demons outside of the basement, just her henchmen waiting for me to spring the trap. I’m glad they didn’t snag you as well. Now, can we focus on what we need to do?”
