by G A Chase
She got up, feeling like she was floating on air, though as she looked down at her clothing saturated in guts, she realized the smell might be powerful enough to levitate her even without the all-encompassing emotions. “I think I can come up with an answer to that situation.” She kicked off her boots then peeled off the smelly tank top and jeans and tossed them in the river. Her underwear quickly followed.
“That’s not the usual answer a guy gets when he tells a girl how he feels about her. I’m not complaining—I’m just saying it does leave the other half-unanswered.”
She walked up to him and threw her arms around his neck. “I wouldn’t know how to survive in this life without you. Being that dependent scares me sometimes, and maybe I don’t always deal with that insecurity as well as I should. You’re a part of me literally, emotionally, and spiritually. Love seems like such a little word in comparison to what I feel for you. Now, lose those fucking pants, or I’ll tear them off of you with my teeth.”
Sere lay in the bottom of the boat with Bart by her side, their naked bodies pressed tightly together by the slight angle of the hull. With his spent cock in her hand, she gazed into the star-filled night. “Is this the strangest place you’ve ever made love?”
He folded one of his arms under his head for support as she snuggled into the crook of the other. “I’ve had sex in my high school gym, but I think everyone has—though maybe not when a basketball game was in session and they were the point guard.” He pressed his head to hers. “We lost that game.”
“How does someone who’s supposed to be leading their team end up having sex during the game?” She didn’t know much about basketball, but if Bart were playing, he surely would be the one in charge.
“I sprained my ankle—the lead cheerleader was making eyes at me throughout the first half, and I only tripped over the opponent’s foot because she lifted her short uniform skirt in my direction and distracted me. When I went into the locker room to ice the foot, I found her sitting on the bench, holding what I thought was a bandage. Turned out to be her panties.”
She squeezed his returning erection. “I think I get the idea.”
“But I have to give it to you. Having sex with hell’s critters surrounding us is a new one. Speaking of which, what made you want to escape the hell mouth so fast?”
Sere hated having to get back to business, but they really couldn’t afford to lose any more time than what they’d just stolen from her mission. “Hell’s animals aren’t the problem. Hurricane Agnes has been roaring through hell since my father was escorted to the deep waters. That storm is sentient.”
“You’re being paranoid. I’ve been through enough hurricanes to know there’s always someone who thinks the storm has it out for them.”
“I hope you’re right. But I need to let Kendell know what’s going on.”
Bart turned his head toward her. “You think she can help? From my understanding, this animal-and-weather invasion isn’t based on voodoo or the professor’s paranormal technology. Sounds like we need a witch.”
“I do know someone who might be of more help, but first, I have to get eyes on hell. The only resource we have in that dimension is Doodlebug, so I’ll need Dooly Buell to make the connection. That means talking to Kendell.”
Bart got to his feet and looked around the bottom of the hull. Crawfish parts still littered the back of the boat where the monsters had tried crawling aboard. “What do you want to do about these mudbugs? I know you’re no fan of Riley’s customers, but if they keep running into monsters destroying their alligator traps, they’re going to start talking.”
“I suppose we could put them to work.” Sere sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees, the sight of Bart standing naked with one foot on the transom in the moonlight nearly making her lose her focus. The prospect of having to face Riley’s drunk bar dudes made her curb her lust for battle. “Having those boys turn in their rifles for traps wouldn’t be a bad thing. At least we would have some help with this invasion, unlike when those assholes seemed to be on the demons’ side.”
He turned to the boat’s controls. “That is until the next level of predator emerges from the hell mouth. Looks like we’ve got a busy twenty-four hours ahead of us.”
Back on shore, Sere pulled a change of clothes from her saddlebags. Cody’s boat looked a little worse for wear after the crawfish battle. “I’m going to owe that bastard a drink.”
Bart grabbed Riley’s rifle from the hull. Though undamaged, the barrel was covered in crawfish slime. “I doubt a drink is going to do it. We lost his grappling hook, and some of those dents are going to take some serious work to flatten out.”
She checked on her snakes then secured the saddlebags on her motorcycle. “What kind of reception do you think we’ll get?”
Before returning to his Ducati, he retrieved one of the swamp-smelling claws from the boat. “Hard to say at this time of night. Riley gets spun up pretty easily, but she did call a truce when I was abducted, and she sent word about the gators.”
“She also threatened to blast me full of holes if I ever set foot in her bar again.”
He strapped the crawfish claw to the back of his bike and got ready to ride. “She can be a bit impetuous.”
“I’m glad you were with me out in the swamp, and not just because of the sex by moonlight.”
Bart gave her a smile that made her wish she could strip off her clothes again. “Back to saving the world.” He hit the starter of his Ducati then headed down the dirt road.
She gunned the Triton to get alongside him so she didn’t have to eat his dust for the short ride back to town. With the vibration between her legs and the lust she felt for her companion, she really hoped someone in the bar would try something stupid so she could work out her aggression.
Bart pulled up to the door of the bar and backed his bike into position for a quick getaway, Sere following his lead. “Let me go in first,” he said. “Riley’s less likely to get trigger happy if she sees a friendly face.”
“Fine, but hand me her rifle just in case.”
He tossed her the weapon then grabbed the claw by the lower pincer and held it over his shoulder as though hauling in a beef shank. Before entering, he reached behind his back to check on the gun tucked behind his jacket. Sere cocked the weapon and kept to the shadows as Bart stepped into the room.
Riley glanced up from dispensing a draft beer, smiled, then did a double take. “What the hell is that?”
He dumped the eighteen-inch-long claw on the bar. “Something new for your customers to hunt. There’s a whole mess of these mutant crawfish marching in from the deep swamp. I’m betting their tails are good eating, though probably not in the traditional fashion. Go much farther than the crustaceans, however, and your boys might run across snapping turtles capable of chomping their boats in two.”
Already bellied-up to the bar, Cody was the first to lean over and inspect the claw. “I’ve never been one for trapping—just didn’t seem sporting. But I’ll bet this bugger put up one hell of a fight.”
Bart reached over the bar and grabbed a towel as if he owned the place then used it to wipe the yellow grunge off his shoulder. “If you’re looking for action, I can promise you these guys won’t disappoint.”
“That’s my gun.” Riley’s words cut through the sound in the bar as easily as if she’d hit a mute button.
Sere ejected the loaded shell, aimed the butt of the weapon toward Riley, and set it on the bar. “Consider it a peace offering.”
The bartender snatched the rifle and gave it a quick check before returning it to the holder above the liquor bottles. “I assume you think this makes us square. It doesn’t.”
“Be nice, Ri.” Bart slid onto the barstool. “Or at least be civil. If you’ll remember, Sere did bust up my bar as well, and we’ve found a way past our differences.”
The woman poured a healthy shot of Jack Daniel’s into a glass and filled it with Coke before sliding it over to Bart. “Are y
ou suggesting I sleep with her too?”
“Word gets around fast,” Sere said as she took the seat next to Bart.
“When a business owner doesn’t show up to work for a week, people talk. Ram was either on another bender or chasing tail. If you wanted to keep your affair a secret, you shouldn’t have been so blatant about it in front of Edie. I suspect the whole parish knows about it by now.”
It wasn’t lost on Sere that Riley hadn’t offered her a drink and insisted on using Bart’s former nickname. “You had your shot with him,” Sere said.
“As did half the women in Jackson’s Bluff,” Riley said.
“Can we not talk about my sexual exploits?” Bart sipped his drink. “We’re giving your customers a chance at hauling in critters never seen before. With a little culinary creativity, these crawfish roasts should bring some nice prices—money that will no doubt be spent right here in your bar.”
“And no doubt you want something in return.” Riley poured herself a shot of tequila, still without bothering to offer Sere a libation.
She’d had just about enough of Riley’s attitude. “We’re not asking for anything. The only thing that’s not in doubt is that I will be back this way. Your customers can take out as many of those craw monsters as they can haul from the water, with my blessing. But my guess is you understand the swamp nearly as well as I do. Where there’s an abundance of food, predators follow. If something more intimidating than snapping turtles the size of small cars shows up out in those waters, you might send word if you know what’s good for everyone.”
9
“You didn’t think to warn them about the storm?” Bart asked from the seat of his motorcycle.
“Those pricks don’t have any business venturing that deep into the swamp. Besides, if I’m right about the hurricane, it’s not going to matter where they are when she hits.” Sere checked that her snakes were snuggled soundly in her saddlebags. So long as they were at peace, she hoped, no immediate threat was coming.
“So back to New Orleans?” Bart asked.
Four in the morning might be an ungodly hour for most people, but Kendell and Myles would still be dealing with the last of the late-night customers at the Scratchy Dog. “Once I get moving, call the bar. Hopefully, Kendell can round up Dooly Buell before we get there.”
“Call her yourself. You can’t put off using the professor’s gift forever.”
Sere sheepishly pulled the phone out of her saddlebag and looked at the rectangular plastic box as if it was from a different dimension. “Seriously? How do you know this thing isn’t going to blow up when I put it next to my ear?”
He shrugged. “Only one way to find out.”
She touched the screen, feeling a little foolish for not knowing what she was doing. Instead of the tiles of apps she’d seen on other phones, only a list of names scrolled before her eyes. She tapped Kendell Summer.
Bar noise blared through the speaker before she heard the woman’s voice. “Scratchy Dog night club. How can I help?”
“Find me Dooly Buell.” Sere yelled at the phone as if it were a magic box and the girl could instantly appear.
“Sere?” Kendell said. From the rise in her voice, Sere could tell she was shocked that the call had gone through.
She held the phone in front of her face, still not trusting it close to her head. “We’ve got a problem. I’m headed your way, but it will take me a couple of hours to get there. I need to talk to Doodlebug. Can you get Dooly? We should conduct the meeting in the professor’s offices.” She pronounced each word like she expected the connection to go staticky at any moment.
“I’ll make it happen. It’s good to hear your voice.”
Sere hit the off button and stashed the phone back with her snakes. As she got back on the road, she could already see how the enhanced technology was going to become a burden. If she could reach Kendell, undoubtedly the woman—as well as all the rest of the gang—could reach Sere as well. She didn’t need the damn thing ringing while she was creeping up on some demon from hell. They drove by the swamp, and she wondered how much trouble she’d be in if she chucked the phone into the river.
Sere stood in the middle of the professor’s lab, feeling like a student who’d just presented a poorly researched term paper. The prepared explanation of Jennifer’s visit that she’d worked up on the drive from the swamp had sounded much more reasonable in her head. With Polly, Kendell, Myles, and the professor all having their arms crossed like an academic board about to hand out a failing grade, Sere wondered if there might not have been an easier way of contacting Doodlebug.
“Why didn’t you come to us the moment Jennifer showed up?” Kendell asked. “Or when you saw Doughnut Hole suffering from his connection to hell? You could have saved us a lot of anguish.” Myles stood next to Kendell, shooting his laser-beam stare at Sere as if he were too angry to trust anything he might say.
“I didn’t know whether the dog’s problem was due to Jennifer’s visit.” Sere couldn’t help but feel like a petulant child. “Not everything that happens in my life is your business. The happy homemaker didn’t become an evil knife-wielding psychopath just from having a cup of coffee with me. So as far as I could tell, any damage that might have been done wasn’t of a doppelgänger-real variety. From everything I’ve been told, any problem resulting from our meeting should have been contained to the two of us.”
“It would have been helpful if you’d let us confirm that hypothesis,” Polly said.
Of the group, the professor looked the least concerned as he hooked Dooly up to his equipment. “What’s done is done. Since there was no burst of energy through my computers in the last two days, it would seem that Marjory is still busy with her rebuilding of the devil. Without him in the immediate picture, I’m guessing you found something out in the swamp that’s more of a pressing issue.”
Sere adjusted the sweatband around her forehead. “As we suspected while helping Fisher, there’s a tear in the hell mouth.”
Kendell put her hands on the table and lowered her head as if the weight of the news was more than she could bear. “What does that mean?”
Bart put his arm around Sere’s waist, preventing her from snapping out an answer. “Monster crawfish, a hell storm that’s brewing, basic end-of-the-world stuff—nothing new,” he joked.
Kendell’s face reddened. She did not look amused. “This is what I’m talking about, Sere. You need to let us know what’s going on so we can get ahead of the problems. Stop thinking you can handle everything on your own.”
The showdown had been coming practically since the moment Sere had escaped hell. “I am not your remote-controlled, hell-defusing robot! I’m my own person.” From the shocked looks, she could tell she’d gone too far, so she tried to temper her declaration. “I care about you all, at least to the extent that I understand such things, but hell was my home, and it remains my responsibility. I understand it better than any of you.”
“We’re just trying to protect you.” Kendell fell into the chair, looking drained. “Everyone here knows hell can’t be extinguished like snuffing out a candle. That means you carry the weight of two worlds on your shoulders. The people around this table are the only ones who truly understand the dangers you face. We can help if you’ll let us. Hell isn’t just yours alone.”
“I’m sorry I blew up at you, but I can’t come running here every time something happens in my life. It means everything to me that you’re all willing to do whatever is necessary when I do call, but some problems I have to face without you. If Joe were standing here, he’d tell you a warrior sometimes needs to coordinate her actions and sometimes has to work alone.”
The professor settled in behind his computer. “Which brings us to your current emergency.”
“Right,” Sere said. “Hook me up to hell.”
The driving rain that made seeing nearly impossible helped calm Sere’s nerves. At least the storm was still ravaging hell and hadn’t made the jump to life.
“Jesus, woman, what now?” Doodlebug was pressed tightly to the side of a doorframe.
Sere never was sure what condition she’d find the girl in, but so far, there’d never been a time when the avenging doppelgänger was just quietly sharing lunch with a friend—as if such a thing were possible. “There’s a problem with the hell mouth.”
“I’m a little busy at the moment.” The girl held the sword and sickle to her chest and stood so still she could have been a part of the building. A dark cape fluttered past her. From the way it flapped in the wind, it was impossible to distinguish the body that occupied the garment. The cape could easily have been a piece of fabric caught in the storm had it not been moving against the squall.
Doodlebug crept out of the doorway with both weapons at the ready. “Turn and face me, asshole.”
The cape blew into Doodlebug’s face, making Sere think the fabric had been caught by the storm. Then her combat training kicked in. “He’s coming at you.”
“Duh.” The girl hit the ground and swept the sidewalk with her sickle.
The harvester skipped over her curved blade and slashed his under him like a child playing jump rope. The two curved swords locked together, and Doodlebug’s sickle was wrenched from her hand. The sickly figure, who was more dried skin holding bones together than human, stood facing her with both curved weapons in his hands.
“And now you die, Doppel Avenger.” He sliced the two blades together toward the back of her neck like a pair of curved shears. With the tips so close to her, Doodlebug didn’t have time or distance to swing her katana.
Fuck! I’m about to lose my only asset in hell, Sere thought.
Before the sharp edges could tighten against her flesh, Doodlebug dropped her blade, reached behind her, and pulled out a pistol. The harvester closed the sharpened metal noose around her throat just as she pointed the gun up under his jaw. With a fiery blast, she sent the demon’s head halfway into the street. The harvester’s body and his blades hit the ground.