The Devil's Daughter Box Set

by G A Chase

  “You should have told me.”

  With a quick flick of her fingers, the two demons rushed the naked man and took him by the arms. “The guinea pig isn’t consulted regarding the scientist’s test. Survive this, and we’ll talk about your new role in my plan. Fail, and suffer for all eternity.” She put one hand on the long handle that connected to the iron bars of the door’s latches. “The moment this door opens, you two toss him in. If the demon inside escapes, kill Devlin, but do not eat his soul. Disobey me, and I’ll kill your reals just to watch you two dissolve into nothingness.”

  When the door swung open, Sere crept even farther from her hiding spot. With everyone focused on the demon that lurked in the darkness of the box, she was able to sneak up to the pillar closest to the action. Devlin struggled against his two captors, but he was no match for them. They threw him into the cabinet as if tossing a garbage bag into a dumpster. When Marjory slammed the door shut, the man’s screams of horror filled the basement.

  The woman clicked the stem of a stopwatch and returned to the table. Without the naked man blocking Sere’s view, she saw the journal that lay open under the candelabra. Marjory traced along the open page with her finger.

  As a child, Sere hadn’t been conscious during her transfer to Jennifer’s doppelgänger. In her time inhabiting the body, she’d never encountered an inner demon. The body had been a blank slate on which Sere had scribbled her life’s work. She couldn’t imagine that her father—evil as he was—would have been so cruel as to toss her soul into a cage match with a demon the way Marjory just had. Looks like you missed a page—or did you intend on inflicting your heir with a demon?

  Sere reminded herself that, according to Polly, the battery-powered body might not function without both demon and real soul. She grasped the handle of her sword. Fighting evil she understood. Paranormal science she left to Polly and the professor.

  “It’s time. Open the door,” Marjory called to the demons. She turned away from the book and leaned back against the table.

  Like Marjory, Sere stood transfixed, waiting to see what emerged. Though she lived in a doppelgänger body, there’d never been anyone like her. Thomas and Fisher were humans possessed by demons, but up until that moment, Sere was the only human inhabiting a demon. A part of her hoped Devlin would survive the transformation, but a stronger part prompted her to reach for the sword sheathed against her back. Time to kill some demons and maybe even have a go at a devil.

  “You can come out now,” Marjory called into the darkness of the cabinet.

  “We’re not alone.” The voice from the shadows had the deep command of a person used to being in charge and ended in the low growl of a demon.

  Marjory spun around and locked her stare on Sere. “Kill her!” she called to the two demons beside the cabinet as she pointed at Sere with her cane.

  One of the demons turned to her. “But what about the power connection that keeps us alive?”

  Marjory hit him so hard with her cane that Sere wondered how the black wood hadn’t splintered. “You idiot.” She patted the chest of the monster that emerged from the cabinet. “This is the master you serve now. He’ll provide for your demonic needs.”

  47

  Chapter 19

  Sere didn’t get much of a chance to inspect her new hybrid brother. The two full-fledged demons ran at her like wild dogs in pursuit of a rabbit. Each one held knives ready to carve her up into bite-sized morsels.

  She hit the floor and rolled behind the closest pillar. She lacked the time to conduct her tactical analysis, but since coordinated attacks weren’t the demons’ natural play, she had the edge. Without Andy at the controls, they’d be looking to their new leader for guidance, and he would still be figuring out his new reality. The lack of organization gave her an advantage but only so long as she kept one step ahead.

  The two panted so hard she could hear their every move. She edged along the side of the column to keep it between her and her pursuers. When she had a clear shot at the next pillar, she bolted for it before the demons rounded the corner to see what she was up to. One row of columns closer to Bart’s field of fire—two more to go, and the closer I can get to the far wall, the better shot he’ll have.

  “Where are you going, sister?” The words from the newly formed devil echoed around the room.

  She turned toward the far wall, away from the demons, so that her words would also echo and not reveal her position. “Why don’t you poke your nose out and see? Or are you too chickenshit to face me yourself?”

  “I think I’ll let my henchdemons soften you up a bit first.”

  Sere listened for the two in pursuit. Their breathing grew shallow, making it impossible to detect their location. From the unified scuffing of their feet against the concrete, she knew the devil had taken charge of his minions. You’re using the two as twin puppets. It took Andy a few attempts to understand how to best use the demons as well.

  As she rushed toward the next pillar, the two demons emerged and gave chase. This time, however, she wasn’t attempting to find another hiding spot. With a running handspring that momentarily set the sword on the floor, she managed to launch her body feetfirst toward the concrete column. The demons were still in pursuit when she kicked her leg out and pulled her knife from her boot. Like side-mounted propellers of death, she twirled the blades next to her and sliced deeply into the doppelgängers. Two curtains of blood coated her from head to foot, turning her landing into a sloppy sliding mess.

  She needed to move to a position that would let her line up the devil with Bart, but the direction of her attack put her farther from her destination. Until the two were in position, there was no point in decapitating the demons. With her knife in one hand and the sword in the other, she rushed the disoriented pair and disgorged their guts. She didn’t stop running until she caught sight of the hole in the wall alongside her.

  “Done already? I was just starting to have some fun,” she taunted.

  The two struggled back to their feet with their entrails dangling over their belts.

  “Looks like you’re at a disadvantage, my dear brother,” she called out. She needed to keep the little demonic fuckers alive. So long as Devlin had to deal with his troops, the devil wouldn’t be able to completely focus on her. She sidestepped along the pillars until she was hidden from the demons. With a quick check of the hole in the wall, she saw Bart nod his readiness.

  The two lurched out into the open, trailing blood and guts. She honestly felt bad for them. Their mission had been to guard Devlin’s doppelgänger and provide security for Marjory’s little event. Now that their tasks were completed, instead of being given the lives of their reals that they had undoubtedly been promised, they were being sacrificed like chickens at a voodoo ceremony.

  She stepped in front of them. At the very least, they had a right to face their executioner. She pointed her blades at them. “Better luck next time, boys.”

  Before she could rush the two, however, Devlin swooped in from behind, grabbed their knives from their hands, and lopped off their heads. Body parts, blood, and gore lay at his feet. “Hello, sister.”

  With her enhanced connection to Bart, she could feel him demanding she step aside to give him a clear shot at the devil. That was the plan. “So what are you supposed to be—Malveaux devil 2.0? I think most people would consider one attempt more than sufficient.” She swung her blades, hoping for a fight.

  “And what about you?” He pointed his knives at the gore on the floor. “To our doppelgänger brethren, you’re the true evil. Who gave you authority over the damned?” His words cut to her soul.

  “I’m no angel. That’s true.”

  “Good and evil are merely matters of perspective in an unnecessary dichotomy. We are the only two living gods on Earth with the power of overcoming death. Why should we deny life everlasting to others? By uniting human and doppelgänger, we could defeat the loas of the dead. Join me, sister.”

  She’d already outlived Jo
e. That was a pain she doubted would ever let go of her soul. Losing Bart—either to old age or battle—would be inevitable. And how was she supposed to deal with her own appearance? Maintaining her midtwenties while those around her grew old would only draw attention to her immortality, but following Jennifer’s lead by accepting the wrinkles, gray hair, and infirmity of age seemed foolhardy. Then there were the loas to consider.

  “Sounds like something my father would have said.” Her rejoinder sounded weak even to her own ears.

  “Your father sought to rule in the depravity of hell. I prefer the luxuries of life.”

  “But like my father, do you intend on having those you save bow down to you?” She edged toward the next pillar while keeping her sword aimed at Devlin.

  “Immortality must come at the price of submission. Otherwise, everyone would consider themselves gods.”

  She began to hear the familiar family foolishness in Devlin’s desire to control all he surveyed. “And to those unwilling to pay your price—what would you do with those who remain mortal?”

  He smiled with the same lecherous grin she’d seen from her father. “Gods deserve to have their servants.”

  “Slaves, you mean.” As she took another half step toward the pillar, a gunshot rang out. The bullet passed so close to her neck that she felt its breeze touch the tips of her hair.

  Devlin grasped his chest and laughed. “That hurt, but how could you think a bullet would harm me?” Blood spewed between his fingers.

  “Just slowing you down a little.” She swung her sword at his throat.

  Devlin ducked and lifted one of his knives to deflect her blow. Though the defense was effective, it showed a lack of finesse. As he stood back to face her, she got a good look at the bullet wound. The hole revealed crushed ribs. Somewhere under the gore, a small paranormal pellet was working its way into his heart.

  “Too bad no one taught you how to fight,” Sere said. “Relying on your immortality is going to prove your undoing.” Her knife, in one hand, clashed against his as her sword sliced open his abdomen. As with his use of the demons, he only knew how to operate one weapon at a time.

  Like a ballerina of death, Sere pirouetted and flew through the air, slashing with her sword and knife as if they were extensions of her arms. With each of her landings, another piece of severed devil splattered against the concrete pillars and walls. But with every deadly cut, Devlin merely laughed.

  Down to only one functional arm, Devlin parried another vicious sword blow to his ribs. “You can’t kill me.”

  “I can sure as hell try,” Sere grunted as she followed up her latest missed strike with a knife jab to his guts.

  “So is this what we’ll be to each other? Two immortals locked in never-ending combat?” He swung away from her next attack like a beat-up punching bag spewing blood instead of sand.

  “If that’s how it has to be, but I wouldn’t rely too much on your invincibility.” She dropped her knife and gripped the sword with both hands. Using all of her hundred-and-nine-pound frame, she slashed the blade cleanly through the muscles and vertebrae of his neck. Devlin’s head hit the concrete floor like a dropped bowling ball. She didn’t wait to see if the severed head would continue taunting her. Aiming the sword down, she drove the tip between his eyes so hard the blade sank six inches into the concrete floor.

  The clacking of Marjory Laroque’s cane filled the basement. “You made quite the mess, little girl.”

  Sere picked up her knife—the Ranger blade she’d earned from Joe so long ago. If there was ever a living person she wanted to kill, it was Marjory Laroque—the person ultimately responsible for Joe’s death. “You’ve lost, old woman.”

  The leader of the Laroque dynasty emerged from behind a column and stepped carefully around the pools of blood. Not a drop had splattered onto her tailored suit. “You mean this?” She aimed her cane at the carnage. “This is just a minor setback. Any man who can’t pull himself together after fighting a mere waif of a girl isn’t worthy to be called my heir. Devlin will either rise to the occasion, or I’ll create another beneficiary of my power. Lord knows I’ve got plenty of relatives to choose from.”

  From behind her, Sere could sense Bart itching to let loose another round from his handgun. Killing the old woman would be the easiest solution, but Marjory wielded too much power to let Bart risk his life for a momentary gain. In the Laroque family, there was always someone waiting in the wings to take charge.

  Sere tried not to smile. It would be a waste of time for Marjory to put her monster back together—time that would give Polly and the professor an opportunity to figure out a more permanent solution to hell’s rift. And even if the Laroque matriarch were able to cobble Devlin back into a devil, he’d still be at the mercy of the pellet lodged in his heart.

  Sere pointed her knife at the old woman as if she were a threat. “If he comes back, I’ll just slice him up again—or maybe I should end your attempts right now.”

  The woman’s laugh had the same devilish taunt as Devlin’s. “You won’t kill a human being.”

  Sere had used the threat of killing a real on plenty of doppelgängers as if the actual person was some unseen light casting the shadowy creature. Flipping off the switch would return the silhouette demon to the oblivion of night. Dark as Marjory’s soul was, she was still a living being. Crossing the line from demon hunter to human assassin would make Sere no better than the demons she railed against. She lowered her blade. “I’m not going to kill you, but don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m letting you live out of honor or mercy.”

  Marjory cocked her head as if trying to read Sere’s thoughts. “Out of fear, then?”

  The woman’s words were like a dagger of ice plunged into Sere’s heart. She hadn’t considered that the bridge the woman had created wasn’t simply for raising the dead. In place of Sere’s father as hell’s devil, killing Marjory might establish her as the new ruler of the underworld. Damn it! I hope the professor learned something useful by allowing Devlin’s creation.

  “Your power in life wouldn’t do you much good in hell.”

  The woman shrugged. “And you’re some kind of expert on what our ancestor achieved? Maybe you did have a front row seat, but you were a child. I’ve got his playbooks. We’re in a multidimensional chess match, and you keep seeing my moves in terms of what checkers piece you could take off the board next. You’re outmaneuvered, little girl.”

  Sere aimed her knife at the carnage on the floor. “And yet you’re the one standing in the blood and guts of your latest success.”

  “Not all experiments yield desired results. I’m pretty sure resurrecting you from the dead hasn’t lived up to your father’s hopes. If Devlin can’t get it together, you will have done me a favor by ending his existence. You’re not winning—you’re simply cleaning up my failures.”

  Despite any advantages Marjory might have gained, however, Sere wasn’t alone in her efforts. Like Baron Malveaux, Marjory thought she could play the game on her own. “A stalemate, then. I won’t kill you, and you have nothing you can use against me.”

  “For the time being.”

  48

  Chapter 20

  The black dress, blouse, and nylons that Kendell had insisted on buying for Sere made her feel like she was living some scene out of Jennifer Cranston’s life. “It was a nice service.” Walking next to Bart, they followed far enough back from Joe’s second line down Dauphine Street that few would consider them part of the procession. For just a moment, Sere felt as if they were just like any other couple.

  Bart had the sleeves of his black dress shirt rolled up halfway to his elbows. His black tie looked like a pull tab designed for quick clothing removal. “I’m sorry you had to hide among the tomes,” he said. “I would have joined you.”

  She leaned into his solid body and reached over to flick the end of his tie, wishing she could entice him back to her apartment instead of heading to the wake. “I know you would have, but you do kin
d of stand out. With so many members of the Laroque family in attendance, I didn’t want the solemn affair to turn into a city-of-the-dead street brawl. You did look very dashing next to Kendell and Myles.”

  “At least Marjory Laroque didn’t show up.”

  Sere wasn’t in any hurry to go up against the old woman again. “She’s probably busy putting her humpty-dumpty of a devil back together again.”

  “Without the benefit of all the king’s horses and all the king’s men. Speaking of which, I’m glad the force sent Joe off in style. Only true comrades in arms understand what it is to lose one of their own. That’s a bond Marjory Laroque will never experience.”

  Sere understood both perspectives all too well. She’d tried going it alone in the hope that she could keep those who cared about her from harm. People had died anyway. At least letting people in gave her a sense of belonging, even if the results weren’t much different. Many of the people at the funeral, however, didn’t even realize the dangers faced by those keeping the peace.

  “I doubt half of the people in attendance even knew who Joe was, let alone what he did for this city.” Two blocks ahead of them, the band at the front of the second line made a right toward Bourbon Street, leading the revelers to the bars like pied pipers enticing rats to their drowning.

  “At least at the Scratchy Dog Joe will be remembered by friends.” Bart’s arm around her waist seemed so natural she wondered why she’d delayed their romance for so long.