by G A Chase
The men lifted the dolly into the iron box then untied the straps and removed the black plastic. Sere only got fleeting glimpses of the rebuilt body. Like Frankenstein’s monster, the sewn-together pieces looked human in shape but lacked the clean, subtle lines of the original form.
“Now, remember,” Marjory said as she stood behind the journal on the table. “Even once Devlin is whole again, it may take him some time to fully heal.”
“Making excuses before you even begin?” Gerald asked.
“Not at all. I just don’t want you to think this is how you’ll look after your transformation.” For the first time since they’d entered the basement, Marjory turned to Sere. “You did quite a number on Devlin. I should let him kill you, but I’ll find it far more satisfying to see my brother pull the trigger.” She grabbed her handbag then pulled out a silver revolver. “Of course, if he chickens out or you make a run for it, I brought a backup.”
No doubt, with the original bullets from Andy, Sere thought. If Marjory’s were filled with hell-based rubble, that would mean the little twerp wasn’t the one giving Sere a chance. The question then would be whether the impotent bullets in Gerald’s gun were some sort of a test set by Marjory or, conversely, a giant brotherly fuck you by Gerald in letting Sere live. Whatever the answer, Sere would have to get closer than she’d like to find out.
Marjory checked the elegant gold pocket watch on the table. “Close the door.” She then clicked the more modern stopwatch.
12
Sere didn’t need to see the watch to know that hell and life were lining up like the earth and moon during a solar eclipse. Hell’s energy tingled her skin like static electricity just prior to having the bejesus zapped out of her. The opening of the hell mouth had been enjoyable while she was naked in Bart’s arms and invigorating while she was battling killer crawfish with him at her side. In her enemy’s lair and on her own, however, the energy rush from the impending hour of demonic fury might prove hard to control. To carry out her deception of Marjory, Sere needed to keep her cool—at least until she had her hands on Devlin.
Regarding what was happening directly in front of her, she knew what to expect. Somewhere in the professor’s hell-based equipment, whatever passed for Devlin Laroque’s soul lay dormant. His doppelgänger’s spirit—which Marjory would assume was located in an adjacent part of the program—would be bound tightly to the pellet Bart had fired into the mangled body. Without Andy at the controls in hell, Marjory wouldn’t know that part of her experiment was misaligned. The vault was an interdimensional portal between life and hell. By closing its door, she would activate the souls of the damned that her demons had captured. That power cord served to unite Devlin’s soul in hell with his reproduced body that Marjory and her scientist goons had hammered back together. How his demonic double—already locked in the body—took to the process, however, was anyone’s guess. Once the two were combined into one, the new devil would utilize the same bridge of the damned to power up his doppelgänger body. Then Devlin would be free of the professor’s equipment, free to determine his body’s age, free to regenerate as he chose, and free to terrorize the living until someone found a way of putting him down.
If Sere was clever, she might get to take one shot. Her body’s demand for action made it hard to think clearly. While Marjory busied herself with the baron’s journal writings on how to raise an immortal, Sere checked that her elegant white gloves were stretched high up her arms. Thin wires were looped under her armpits and down the sides of her corset and attached to the cellphone strapped against her leg. Making the call too soon risked alerting Devlin to the threat. So long as the billowy fabric didn’t inadvertently brush against the phone’s screen, all she’d have to do was rest her hand against her dress to establish the connection when the time was right. She just had to get close enough to Devlin to make contact before someone decided to shoot her, sneak the pellet through his flesh without him screaming like a banshee, and get past the guards and out of Marjory’s basement lair while still hanging onto the pellet in her paranormally powered gloved fist. Simple enough.
The truth was, she needed help, and it was out there. This time, though, her support group was going to have to find her. Kendell might have had a point about keeping her and the team in the loop if I expect them to show up in a crisis. I just hope she’s got more of those spirit jars handy.
The sound of the creaky iron door opening like the hatch of a rusty battleship refocused Sere’s attention on the devil who was about to be revealed. As if hit by a gust of wind-driven dust straight out of hell, everything in front of her eyes went blood red.
A man stumbled out of the vault, wearing an ill-fitting, backless hospital gown. As he tried walking, Sere realized the garment’s issue stemmed from its occupant’s misaligned limbs. Devlin Laroque might have had his bits and pieces stuck back together, but he was far from whole.
“Welcome back.” Marjory held her arms out toward him like he was a kindergartener returning home from his first day of school.
“I don’t feel right,” the creature moaned.
Marjory put her arm around his waist to help steady him. “Focus. If that girl over there can regenerate, you can too.”
Gerald continued to stand ramrod straight, watching the action. “I hope your little play gets better, sister, because I’m not spending eternity hobbling across the floor, looking like I’m mentally challenged.”
“You need to just give him a minute,” she snapped. “If he’d stepped out of the vault fully manifested, you’d have complained that you hadn’t witnessed his powers of regeneration.” She took hold of Devlin’s arm and pulled it out straight. The ligaments, muscles, and joints fell into line, but the moment Marjory let go of the limb, it dropped, lifeless and mangled, at the man’s side.
She turned on Sere. “Show him how to heal.”
Fuck you, Sere thought, even as she realized that Marjory was offering an opening for her to make physical contact with Devlin. If she appeared too willing, the woman would know something was up, so she played up her belligerence. “Why should I? You’re planning on killing me the moment he’s whole.”
“Prove that you have worth to me, and I won’t kill you.”
Even in her demonically powered brain, Sere appreciated the practicality of the offer. It sure beat Devlin’s original argument of the two of them ruling the world together. “So my options are help you raise an army of immortals or face my own death? I may only partially understand what it is to be human, but even I’ve got enough of a moral compass to not side with the devil against all of humanity.” She hoped she hadn’t overplayed her hand. She did still need to get close to Devlin to shut him off.
Marjory leaned Devlin against the table as if she were getting down to serious negotiations. “What if I help you give immortality to those you love? I won’t bullshit you by saying our two sides could live in harmony, but having your own army that could balance mine must beat leaving the future of humanity solely in my hands.”
Sere had seen her father negotiate enough deals to know nothing was ever as it seemed. She only needed to get close to Devlin—nothing else mattered. However, Marjory would know something was up if Sere didn’t aggressively play the game. “A one-to-one detente? For each immortal you create, I get to build one of my own?”
“So long as you help me solidify each new immortal. I need your knowledge, and you need my magic vault.”
Sere ran her hands along her legs as if drying her palms. In reality, she was activating her phone. “I have to touch him, and it might not be pleasant. Regeneration can be very disorienting. Also, I can only fix what was originally whole, so there aren’t any promises this will work.”
Marjory shrugged and tapped her gun. “If it doesn’t, we’ll be back to our original plan of me killing you.”
Gerald stepped forward half a stride. “I thought I was supposed to do the honors.”
Marjory took her hand away from her revolver. “So you are.�
�
Sere walked in front of Devlin and next to the journal. She had an undeniable urge to grab the book and run. Without it, not only would Marjory be thwarted in her attempts at raising a devil, but the world itself might be spared the instructions as well.
One thing at a time, she thought as she faced Devlin. “You’re going to get very woozy. It can be wildly disorienting seeing yourself as multiple people. Don’t be alarmed if you feel intense pain and slump to the ground. Hyperconsciousness can be as difficult on the body as unconsciousness.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Gerald pulling out his gun. “Don’t do anything stupid,” he said. “Hurt him, make a run for it, or start a fight, and I’ll have to put a bullet in you.”
Behind Devlin, Marjory smiled. “She’s got too much invested to turn away now. That handsome bartender, the ragtag group who raised her, and an open-ended number of others she could make permanent additions to her life—who could say no to that? Especially since she knows that no matter what happens today, I’ll never stop. The only way she can combat me is to follow through with her promise.” She sauntered past Devlin to Sere. “Isn’t that right, my dear?”
Sere didn’t know how to lie, and she suspected somewhere in her father’s journals, Baron Malveaux had explained that character trait. “It would be the most logical choice.”
“Close enough,” Marjory said. “Now, show Devlin what to do.”
The man held out his arms like a little kid expecting to be picked up after scraping his knees on the playground. Weak and pathetic, Sere thought. Marjory should have chosen her potential immortal with more care.
She took him in her arms. Between the physical contact, the hell-based energy infusion from midnight’s opening of the hell mouth, and the professor’s enhanced connection to Jennifer, Sere saw Devlin from his own perspective. The two sides of his soul were like the two handles of a jump rope being held by the mangled remains of his doppelgänger body. His form had the finesse of Frankenstein’s monster, and she was supposed to teach the creature how to use the equipment like a skilled athlete. The energy cord made up of lost souls made Sere nearly lose her footing.
“I’m going to save you.”
Devlin nestled against her. She knew he thought she was talking to him. Standing in the center of the nineteen souls of the damned who held hands and made up the looped line into hell were Larry and Kelly. The couple, who had shown such kindness to Sere when she was on the run, had been the first people to fall prey to a demon from hell. Standing outside of the group like a protective coating were the demons who’d used the damned to make their escape and return to the foreign dimension. With them was Doodlebug, who kept her head down. Her presence let Sere know she had at least one demonic ally in her quest to end Devlin.
“Get to work,” the doppelassassin whispered.
Sere refocused on the task at hand. Devlin was composed of two energies, the real and the doppelgänger demon. As she’d hoped, the side from hell hadn’t matched up with the soul yanked from hell’s computer. But before she began her operation, she needed to focus on the energy pulsing through her hand.
Jennifer eased out of bed without disturbing Henry, who was snoring softly. “What are we doing now?” she whispered as she grabbed a robe.
“It’s way too complicated to explain. Find a quiet place and wait for me. If we lose touch, head to the professor’s lab right away.”
Jennifer tiptoed down the carpeted hallway toward the kitchen. “Sounds dangerous.”
“You have no idea. I’m going to snatch this demon and make a run for it. When I do, he’ll be able to hear everything we’re saying, so don’t talk. There will be a whole gauntlet of people trying to shoot me. Try to stay calm.”
“Where are you?” Jennifer asked. “I’ll send help.”
Usually, Sere liked conducting her battles free of other entanglements, but this one promised to tax her skills. And the ramifications of failure extended well beyond her own existence. “I’m at the bank. Tell Kendell to bring a spirit jar and Bart to bring a traditional medical field kit. Even if things go well, I expect to get shot at least once. Tell them to watch themselves. You’ve got about a minute before I yank the pellet out of this guy.” Sere turned her attention to the demonic side of Devlin. All right, fucker, time to dance.
“What do I do first,” Devlin asked.
“See yourself. You’re a grown man, so I expect you have a healthy sense of self-awareness. Before you can call on the new part of you for healing, you need to differentiate the injured self from the power source.” Of course, for Sere, that was considerably easier with Jennifer being a distinctly separate soul.
“Will you be inside me too?”
She pressed her palm against his back near his heart as if pressing a start button. “Not completely. I’ll be like a ghost trying to focus your energy. This is up to you, though. You’ve got a lot to do to heal this body. It will be unpleasant. Try not to cry out.” If she could keep him quiet during the pellet extraction, hopefully, Marjory would keep her distance.
“I can see him.” Devlin’s voice had the soft, far-off tone of someone slipping into a trance.
“Good. You need to start with a little separation between you.” Sere couldn’t afford to yank both demon and real out of the body and have the doppelgänger puppet disintegrate. The person Devlin used to be needed to survive for a time to hold the body together. To convince Marjory that resurrection wasn’t possible, Sere had to allow the plan to at least partially succeed. Plus, if Devlin fell to dust in Sere’s hands, she’d be to blame. While she made her escape, his energy would drain like an overused battery while Marjory scrambled to hold him together.
The different realities swirled around Sere like debris in a hurricane. Jennifer sitting in her kitchen, on the phone with Kendell… Devlin looking as confused as a lost child… Doodlebug yanking on his evil twin to prevent him from crossing fully into reality, like a girl holding the tail of a tiger… Marjory and Gerald watching the man’s convulsions… and Sere trying to control it all until she had the evil in her hand.
When the pellet broke Devlin’s skin and struck Sere’s palm, she feared a reoccurrence of the encounter with Thomas’s evil twin. That demon had busted between dimensions and nearly possessed Jennifer. But Sere hadn’t had Doodlebug holding Thomas’s demon’s back then.
“How long can you hold on?” she asked the girl beyond the maelstrom.
“As long as you need.”
Sere drew her fingers into a fist around the pellet and held it to Devlin’s back. The magnetic energy between the two versions of the man worked to heal the small puncture. Once Sere knew there wasn’t an outward indication of her exorcism, she lowered Devlin to the floor and stood up. “It’s all up to him now. Me being in contact will only confuse him. You’ll want to hold him so he doesn’t hurt himself.”
Marjory and Gerald looked foolish getting on the ground in their finest outfits. Sere had expected the guards to do the dirty work, but as she took a furtive look around the basement, she didn’t see them. You two didn’t even trust your guards to see what was happening?
Once the elder Laroques were on the floor, Sere grabbed the journal from the table and made a run for the elevator.
“Shoot her! She’s getting away!” Marjory yelled.
Sere made it to the first pillar before Gerald had cleared his gun from its holster. The first bullet zinged to her left and sent concrete dust flying into the air. The strike forced her away from the protective column. She zigged low across his field of sight, hoping to use the table in front of Gerald as interference. Instead, he held his gun on the top and pegged her in the side with his second shot.
“You always were a good aim.” Marjory’s shrill voice echoed around the room. “Now, finish her off.”
The next bullet whizzed to Sere’s right. She felt like a pinball being knocked from side to side. With the pellet grasped in one hand and the journal under her other arm, she didn’t h
ave the maneuverability she needed for a tumbling escape. She ducked and spun hard to the left. Another bullet flew overhead.
“Leave her, Gerald. She’s already got one bullet in her. That should be enough to sever her connection to hell. Get down here and help me with Devlin. I can’t hold him on my own.”
Sere struggled to put a pillar between her and the action around the table while attempting to make sense out of what had just happened. If Marjory thought I’d be dead from a single bullet, she couldn’t have been in charge of the paranormal-free ammunition. Interesting. That man might still be on my side.
Sere fell against the inside wall of the elevator, panting. The bullet in her side stung but no more so than usual. The bigger problem was what she’d find when the doors opened. She set the ledger on the ground and focused on her fist. With it, she could deliver a hellacious punch, but if she opened her hand, the wily demon might take possession of the first person he found—or worse, was connected to.
As the elevator opened, she made a tumbling exit, hoping to roll like a billowy yellow bowling ball under the legs of any guards who might be on duty. At the reception desk, she popped upright with fists raised, ready for a fight. To her surprise, there was no one around her.
While the doors were still open, she raced back to the elevator and retrieved the journal. Where the hell is everyone? Once the doors finally closed, she went back to the desk, turned the lock, and broke the key off inside the tumbler. The walls of marble closed over the antique elevator. If no one else knew about the hidden lift, Marjory and Gerald would be down there a while.
Sere ran across the marble floor to the entrance. Without someone to fight, her body began registering the pain. Even though Jennifer’s healing powers were literally in the palm of her hand, activating that connection while holding a demon, and with a bullet still lodged inside her, would create a mess that even the professor would have trouble untangling. Then there was the energy from hell, which, in spite of the movement of time, showed no sign of abating.