The Devil's Daughter Box Set

by G A Chase

  Sere drove around to the back of the garage. Dark and quiet wasn’t the shop’s natural state. She longed to hear the tinny transistor radio accompanying the clanking of metal, tuning of engines, and squeal of grinders indicating that the tool monkey was pursuing his passion. A feeling of mourning now permeated the premises. Reverently, she picked the back lock with the tip of her combat knife.

  The dark workshop gave her the chills. She’d never put much belief in inanimate objects holding residual emotions of the people who’d used them. She ran her fingers over a 9/16 open-end wrench on the workbench. In spite of her doubts, she could practically hear its desire to once again be of use in fixing some pesky problem.

  “Someone needs to put this shop back in use as is. Breaking up all these tools would be a crime. I wonder how Joe would feel about having a real garage instead of all those makeshift cargo-container caches.”

  Though the idea of Joe having that much space to tinker on his motorcycles made her smile, she strongly doubted he would see the appeal of being so tied down to one spot. She pushed the Triton to a dark corner, covered it with a canvas work tarp, then jotted “Property of Joe Cazenave” on a work order and pinned it to the tarp. Can’t have someone selling that off by mistake. Not that her rattlesnakes would let anyone within three feet of their mistress’s possessions.

  “I’d take you with me, but you two aren’t fond of swimming. I’ll find Lefty on my own this time.”

  The soft rattling from the bottom of the bags indicated that after their bar adventure, the snakes were just fine with hanging out and hunting rats in the old machine shop.

  Unfortunately, Sere’s favorite ancient gator wouldn’t be the only creature from hell lurking in the uncharted area of the swamp. She pulled the blaster shotgun from her leg and turned it in her hands. “I wish I wasn’t going to need you, but Joe would have my ass if I wandered into demon territory unprotected.” She started rummaging around Larry’s shop in search of some waterproof cloth she could form into a bag to keep her weapon and ammunition dry during her swim.

  While in the workshop, she changed into the black aquatic leotard she kept stashed in her saddlebag. After the swim through the swamp that had ended in her facing Bart naked on his dock, she’d made the skintight swimsuit part of her limited travel wardrobe. Nudity didn’t bother her, but standing exposed and in need before the arrogant bartender had forced her to reconsider her swimming attire. She had to admit, the tight-fitting one-piece did work well for fighting.

  With the combat knife sheathed against her thigh and waterproof-wrapped shotgun strapped across her back, she checked the fit in Larry’s bathroom, pulling the leather belt tightly around her waist. The reflection in the mirror looked like some deranged, sexy, aquatic ninja. Not that any demon she might run across would care how she looked.

  After a couple of quick combat poses to make sure she had sufficient maneuverability, she headed out the back door to sneak her way down to the swamp in her skimpy black outfit. Her water sandals didn’t make a sound against the pavement. In an attempt to make her lily-white arms and legs blend in with the shifting shadows, she kept her movements in time with the breeze that swayed the tree limbs. Next time, I need to remember to stash some black camouflage paint into my bag. With any luck, people wouldn’t be paying much attention to the goings-on outside their windows.

  She scurried across the dimly lit street at the edge of town to the dirt road leading to the alligator hunters’ docks. Without the need for a boat, she only followed the well-rutted access until she came to a walking path that presumably led to a secluded fishing spot. Lights from cabins that were nestled back among the trees helped illuminate the winding trail. When Sere got to the water’s edge, she checked around herself to be sure she was out of sight of the small houses. Before entering the river, she tossed a small stick as far as she could into the stream. It quickly floated away in the opposite direction from the dock around the bend. Perfect. The tide’s going out.

  She eased into the warm water and let the current take her downstream. After he’d killed Kelly, Monty’s next attack had been south along the highway leading to New Orleans. The boat he’d used had to be close to where he struck. Sere kept to the river’s edge while searching every dark bend for the broken-down craft.

  A mile from town, she spotted a glimmer of pale blue that bobbed with the current like a big fishing lure. With two strong breaststrokes, she approached the rounded engine housing that floated low in the water. She hoped the hull wasn’t completely waterlogged.

  In the filtered light of the full moon she could just make out the front of the boat beached alongside a fallen log. She reached underwater and grabbed the back gunnel. By tipping, pushing, and pulling the hull against the fallen tree, she managed to get the boat out of the silt and relatively empty of water.

  She pulled the small craft off the shore and let it bob freely over her palms, like a mother protecting her child on her first swim. “Well, you float. That’s something, at least.”

  As she climbed out of the water, she grabbed the rotting painter and jammed it under a rock. She shed the improvised backpack and unraveled it on the log. Though safer with the waterproof tarp around it, her shotgun wasn’t going to do her much good if she had to take the time to unwrap it should a demon show his ugly face.

  She strapped the holster to her leg and snugged up the bullet belt across her hips. With that and the knife at her other leg, she’d be ready for anything that might show itself in the dead of night. The tarp wasn’t very big, but then, neither was the boat. She tossed it into the bow in case the splintery hull sprung a major leak, and she climbed on board.

  The motor swung side to side as if saying, “Not gonna start. Not gonna happen.”

  She tugged hard on the starter cord, but true to its appearance, the motor stubbornly refused to kick over. “Look, I know you’re an old curmudgeon, but being obstinate isn’t going to do you any good. I’m betting you’ve got one good all-nighter left in you.” She pulled again, but this time, the rope yanked back. “Fine. You asked for it.” She popped one of the shotgun shells out of her belt and crushed the thin plastic coating in her hand. After opening the gas cap, she funneled the small paranormal pellets into the tank. Hopefully, they’re big enough not to get sucked into the carburetor. Let’s see if they work on inanimate objects as well as they do on living animals. She only had to pull the oxidized rubber handle halfway from the engine before it roared to life. “That’s more like it.”

  She settled in against the back transom to keep the bow up out of the water and gunned the engine. There were no signposts for the gate to hell, and she’d told Lefty to remain on guard in case any other demons crossed over so it would be up to her to find him. In spite of Cody’s directions, Lefty could be anywhere, and the chugging little boat probably didn’t have six hours of gas left in its contaminated tank. I just need to go far enough out there to get away from the gator hunters. This whole plan will go tits up if they spot Lefty before I can contact him.

  To Sere’s surprise, the little boat lasted seven and a half hours before conking out for good. She opened the gas cap. All that was left in the rusted tank were her shotgun pellets rolling around in a layer of muck. She patted the peeling paint of the engine housing. “You did well, noble beast. But it looks like this might be your final resting place.”

  As the first rays of dawn filtered through the cypress trees, she got out and pulled the hull up onto the shore. The dilapidated skiff might still prove useful in marking the most recent access to hell’s gate. “At least no demon is going to steal you to make their way back to civilization.”

  Turning back to the river, she pulled another shell from her belt. “Time to call in some help.” She emptied it in her hand and spread the small pebbles out on the water. A flotilla of aquatic life answered her call. Bending down, she looked into the eyes of the fish and reptiles that swam just below the surface of the river. “Find the Pleistocene Gator. Tell him I need
him.” The little critters swam off in all directions.

  It could be hours before Lefty answered her call. Her last attempt at restful sleep so close to the interdimensional gate had resulted in her doing battle with a harvester in hell. Maybe I’ll take a walk around the island this time.

  The dense mat of rotting vegetation squished under her feet. Insects scurried along with her as if welcoming her into their habitat. Rich smells of flowering plants, nutrient-laden water, and unseen animals calmed her mind. I need to find a lookout post.

  Sere took a running start at the base of a tree that grew a few feet out into the river. She skipped along the tops of the cypress knees then launched herself high enough to grasp a lower limb. Then, by vaulting from branch to branch, she quickly ascended high above the swamp. On the highest branch thick enough to support her slender frame, she stood facing the open water beyond the cypress grove. From one hundred feet above the calm water, she’d be able to see any demon that might wish to sneak up on her.

  She took the knife out of its sheath and held it high. “Any of you assholes want a fight, I’m right here!”

  She returned her knife to its leather holster and sat on the thick limb with her back against the trunk, preparing for her vigil. Time in the swamp invariably reminded her of the angel who’d raised her—the person who’d opened her home and heart to a frightened and lost little girl. “I wish I knew what happened to you, Sanguine.”

  The woman who was more angel than human had sacrificed everything to remain in hell just to raise Sere. With her giant wings and insect-like eyes that could see the past and future, Sanguine Delarosa truly was Sere’s guardian angel. But for all of her love for the strange swamp witch, Sere couldn’t help feeling that Sanguine was falling down on the job.

  “We had an agreement: I’d try life among real people, and you’d stand watch over the denizens of hell. How are these assholes getting past you?” None of the answers Sere came up with gave her any sense of peace, and she wanted to find Sanguine and ask her. Riding Lefty back to hell to find out what had become of her surrogate mother, however, would just leave the doppelgängers free to invade reality. Then they’d go on killing rampages before finally murdering their reals and taking over their lives.

  Save the person I love the most, or stop the apocalypse. I know which one you’d choose. You’d never forgive me if I followed my heart and abandoned the living.

  A flock of doves landed on the end of her branch. “Sanguine always said that if I was ever afraid, I should tell you birds, and you’d deliver the message. So here’s what I want to say to her: I’m not concerned for myself. I’ve been well prepared. But I can’t help wondering what happened to you, my beautiful angel. Just send me some sign that you’re okay.”

  The birds flew off in the formation of an airborne feathered heart toward the deep swamp. As they disappeared from sight, Sere lowered her gaze toward the water, where distinctive ripples stretching from shore to shore indicated that Lefty had heeded her call. The rustling in the bushes behind him, however, told her that he wasn’t alone.

  I’ll have to sacrifice my bird’s-eye view for a more direct shot at Lefty’s pursuer. Sere eased down to a lower limb. Positioned below the tree canopy, she hoped Lefty wouldn’t notice her movements. If he caught sight of her too soon, he would rush to her like a puppy who’d just seen his mistress return home. The big goofy gator never noticed who or what was following him, only what was straight ahead.

  She pulled out her shotgun and made sure it was fully loaded then cocked the upper two barrels. Joe was right: her aim sucked. From this height, I should have a clear shot at the demonfucker without risking Lefty’s hide. So long as my boy keeps swishing that giant tail, he should remain well ahead of whatever’s following him.

  Even if by some chance the gator did get struck, it would take a lot more than a shotgun shell filled with paranormal rubble to take him down. “One cartridge will disrupt the signal to any creature weighing less than one hundred pounds,” Andy, Professor Yates’s latest hell-based assistant, had said. He hadn’t given her much to go on when he’d delivered the bullets, but that limitation stayed at the forefront of her mind.

  She closed her eyes to drive out the memory of being shot by Monty. And that was only a handful of pellets. The black spots on her side were a continuous reminder to keep clear of the damn stones.

  Lefty burst into the open body of water below her, undulating his tail like the puppy she’d imagined. “Keep going. Don’t stop.” She lay flat on the tree limb and stared intently through the shotgun’s sights at the reeds along the water’s edge. “Come on, you asshole. Show yourself.”

  A young man burst through the trees on the opposite bank of the river. He could just be some dumb teenager chasing Lefty. I need to be sure he’s from hell, she thought. Once he was close enough for the contents of the shotgun shell to do some damage, she could take action.

  Her heart beat so hard that the end of the gun shook from the pulses. The water below her splashed against the shore, indicating that Lefty was swinging around. She kept her attention firmly planted on the kid running along the riverbank. He elbowed his way through a thick outcropping of hawthorn that grew at the water’s edge. Red lines traced along his arm where the spikes had ripped at his flesh. She took careful aim and watched the bloodiest cut. It healed before he’d swung his arm free of the bush.

  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. When there was no more air in her lungs, she squeezed the trigger while keeping all of her focus on the kid running along the muddy shore. The pellets shredded the side of his T-shirt. Blood erupted through the white cotton. “Fuck. I only hit him with half the load.”

  The boy’s face transformed into the demon she’d expected. With his bared sharp teeth, red eyes, and transparent skin, he looked up at her, intent on ripping her throat out. She cocked the remaining two hammers of her shotgun and took aim at the doppelfucker’s stomach. She needed to land as many pellets with this shot as possible. Just as she pulled the trigger, however, he lurched into the brush as if yanked out of the way.

  “Fuck!” Sere snapped the gun open to reload, but even as she forced the new shells into the barrels, she could sense the dead quiet on the other side of the river. “I know you’re out there,” she yelled. “Come out and face your demise.” The reeds at the edge of the woods quivered. “Trying to escape?”

  She fired off one of the chambers in an attempt to flush him out, but from the way the plants waved more than shook from the blast, she knew the demon was out of range. Damn it. He’s going to make me chase him.

  She jumped down from the tree and landed on Lefty’s scaly back. “After him.” With one long swing of his tail, he had her across the river. “This will go a whole lot easier on you if you’d just come out of those bushes,” she shouted. “You don’t belong here.”

  “Then where do I belong? Because it sure isn’t hell. I didn’t do anything to deserve damnation.” Though filled with rage, the voice still carried the youthful high notes of the demon’s real.

  Sere was very familiar with the argument. No doppelgänger condemned to hell—including her—thought their fate was fair. “Not my call. Find some other dimension to escape into. This one’s full.”

  “So you’d just let me go back the way I came?”

  She crouched low in the brush, listening to every nuance of his voice as it filtered through the vegetation. Gotcha. Just behind that young oak.

  “Nope. I’m sending you back without your body or memories. Don’t worry—the professor’s projection will regenerate you from scratch. I can’t trust that you won’t share with your demon buddies your knowledge of how to escape hell.” The moment she stopped talking, she lowered herself to the ground, cocked two of the shotgun hammers, and crawled through the brush to a new position behind the tree. When she saw the back of the kid’s muddy tennis shoes, she jumped to her feet, held the weapon at her waist, and blasted a hole a foot in diameter through the wounded demo
n’s back.

  She only caught a glimpse of the flying rock in her peripheral vision before it struck her in the side of her head.

  When Sere came to, she was facedown in the dirt. She couldn’t move her arms or legs. The vines tied around her wrists and ankles stretched out to the trees. Her knife stood with its blade facing down next to a cut creeper well beyond her reach. Fuck.

  “All right. You’ve got me. Now what are you going to do? We both know doppelgänger peckers are practically useless, so rape would just be an embarrassment for you.”

  “That’s not what you said when we were kids.”

  She struggled against her restraints to get a look at her abductor. “Am I supposed to know you?” None of her liaisons in hell with the random sex puppets she’d found attractive had left much of an impression.

  “I suppose sex with someone without a soul was less meaningful for you than it was for me—what with you actually having a soul. If that’s what you want to call it.”

  Her back hurt from trying to contort her way around to face him. “If this whole demons-escaping-from-hell adventure is due to you feeling like a jilted lover, I really can’t help you.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m not the one who opened the door. You were. And I’m not the one who’s standing in hell, holding the signpost showing my brothers and sisters the way out.”

  Then who is? Though I wouldn’t believe you even if you did tell me.

  “What do you want, then? Because if you signed up to escape hell just to tell me you love me, I might bust a gut laughing in your face.”

  “When we were kids and you started having your way with me, I was nothing more than an empty shell. At some point, though, I started seeing my existence as being unique. Sex with you wasn’t about falling in love. It was about discovering my true self independent of my real.”