To the Devil a Daughter (A Vivian Summers Investigation Book 1)

by K. H. Koehler

  We’re almost ready to sit down to our annual Memorial Day feast when—yep, you guessed it. Dad shows up. Late, as usual—but at least he’s not dragging one of his many tagalongs with him. Our dad is a real handsome devil, even at his age. You wouldn’t know it, though. Those sensual eyes. That devilish smile. He’s as rakish as he was when we were children.

  He hugs me tight and gives Nick’s hand a shake. He’s always been more affectionate with me. After all, I’m his little girl. His little princess.

  I sit to his right at the picnic table and we all talk and laugh about our lives since the last time we’ve been together as a family. I listen to my dad’s stories about teaching at college. He makes certain to include all the gory details of his most recent affairs—PG versions of the story of course, since his grandsons are listening while they stuff down their hamburgers as quickly as possible in a bid to get back to chasing each other around the backyard with the Super Soaker.

  “Dad, are you ever going to settle down?” I ask.

  “Are you, my princess?” he asks right back.

  I blush. “I don’t know. Honestly, with the shop, I don’t really have the time to date.”

  “There’s always Tinder,” Nick throws in.

  “Shut up, you!”

  He smiles wisely but there is a shadow in his eyes. It’s like a twinkle, but darker. “No time to date or get married or have children. And yet you have time to make those brides of yours.”

  I pause, a forkful of potato salad halfway to my lips. “What?”

  “You,” My dad elaborates. “No time to date properly, yet you have time to make slaves out of all your men. How many are you up to by now?”

  I lower my fork and sit up straight on the redwood bench under the pretty yellow sun umbrella. “I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”

  Dad narrows his eyes and pushes his uneaten plate of food away from him. He dabs his mouth with his cloth napkin, but I can see his smile. I can see the sharp, terrible angel teeth in his mouth. “You aren’t human. You don’t date. Nick is most certainly not human, and he isn’t married. There are no children. There is no picnic. No holiday. No fucking yellow umbrella.” His voice drops to a low, uncomfortable growl. “Are you done with this ridiculous masquerade, daughter?”

  His words…his tone of voice…it makes me glance around. My little family is all frozen in place. Nick is frozen, pouring an equally frozen Morgana a fresh glass of iced tea. The boys were pushing at each other, but now they are sitting there like statues. My brother Josh is throwing a piece of steak to Tiger, who had his mouth wide open. Josh and Tiger are frozen solid, and the bit of steak is stuck in the air between them.

  My heart thuds. I try not to panic. “What is this? What’s going on?”

  My dad rises from the table and leans against it to deliver his news in a whisper. “There is no house. There is no family. Vivian…you are dead.”

  I find the news not so much frightening and fatally depressing. Everything has felt so real. I have a lot of dreams I’ve never fulfilled. I’m too young to die whiteout realizing at least some of them. “Dead.” I look around the table. “But what about them?”

  Dad points to the table. “This isn’t real. Well, it is, in a way, but only because it’s your Harrow.” He points to the people gathered around the table. “They aren’t really here. Hell, some of them aren’t even real. If they were, do you really think your family would act like this?”

  I look around the table sadly. I don’t want to ask it, but I know I must. “What’s the Harrow?”

  Unexpectedly, my father looks sympathetic. “It’s a state of mind where a person dwells while they are unconscious and living in their own mind. It acts as a path from the world of the living to the realm of the dead. Living humans, and even Otherkind, enter it every single night—until, of course, that day comes when they cannot escape it. Then it is the place they dwell in until they choose either to go back or to go on.”

  I nod as I slowly come to understand. I’m in a kind of limbo. “I want to go back.”

  He comes around the table to touch my shoulder.”You can’t, darling. Xtabay took that choice from you.”

  I bite my lip as my panic edges up a nod. Slowly, I rise to my feet, still looking at the family that was never was. “Then take me to Heaven. Or Hell.” I look at him. “I belong in Hell, right, Daddy?”

  “I can’t.” He smiles sadly. Reaching out, he flicks a long red hair out of my eyes. “You have no soul, Vivian. You gave it to Nick once upon a time, remember?”

  Yeah, I did that. Shivering, I wrap my arms around myself. Suddenly, I’m cold. I stare down at the tabletop before looking back up at him. “So that’s it, then? I get to live in my Harrow forever?”

  He glances around sympathetically. “Well…it is a boring Harrow, granted.”

  My heart clenches up. “So what can I do to get out of here?”

  I’m afraid he’ll say nothing, and that I’m doomed to live in this false Heaven forever, but when he turns to glance at me, I recognize that shifty look on him. My dad has never been one to stick to the rules. “I’m not sure…”

  “But, surely, there is something you can do?”

  “I can’t bring someone back from the dead, but there are small things I can do.” Reaching into a pocket of his grey tweed jacket, he produces a silver pocket watch engraved with sigils that seem to be shifting and changing before my very eyes.

  He shows me the pocket watch. “Methuselah’s Watch. Xtabay has slowed time, but even she cannot reverse it.”

  I look from the watch to his face, suddenly hopeful. “And you can?”

  He shrugs. “For a price.” His smile grows.

  I think about that. Of course there’s a price. No one makes a deal with the Devil without paying their dues. “What price?”

  My dad moves in a slow circle around me. I watch him study me a long, hard moment before stopping to stoop down a bit and point to his left cheek.

  It takes me a moment to catch on. “You want me to kiss you?”

  His smile grows.

  “That’s it?” I press. “I thought you didn’t love me?” I lean in and kiss him on the cheek. I’m surprised by how human he feels.

  He continues to grin as he sets the pocket watch on the ground in front of us, where it emits a dull, flickering sepia light over the two of us. At first, the flickering is very slow, but as he rejoins me, I see the pace of the light increase. “I enjoy having you around. Now hush.”

  His power is extraordinary. The light moves faster and then faster still. Within seconds, I feel a gust of wind lift me easily into a horizontal position in front of him. I nearly giggle because it’s like being one of those floating assistants for a magician doing a trick for the audience.

  “Is this right?” he asks as he moves to one side of me so he is perpendicular to my floating form.

  “I think so. It feels weird. Ticklish.”

  “Light as a feather. Stiff as a board.” He places his arms under me, palms up, but does not touch.

  The light from the pocket watch is flickering incredibly fast now, the light pulsing as it engulfs the two of us. The ticklish feeling increases.

  He chuckles. “This is where it gets interesting.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means things are about to happen very quickly. Say goodbye to the family, daughter.”

  “Goodbye, family,” I tell them, feeling sad.

  “That’s my good girl.”

  60

  AS I fall to my death, I think about the bad things I’ve done. There is a lot to think about. It’s a long way down, after all. The fall itself is weightless and almost pleasurable. For a few seconds, I seem to hang upon the upper currents. But then, inevitably, I plummet back to earth like the fallen angel I always knew I was.

  The impact is surprisingly hard—but doesn’t kill me. I let out a scream of ecstatic horror as my father catches me in his arms. I remember everything. The Harr
ow. Our conversation. His pocket watch, which is still on the ground, emitting its shaky, strobing light.

  “Got you!” my father cries triumphantly and lays me down gently on the concrete apron where I know I’ve died once, in another timeline.

  “Daddy!” I cry, not caring that he doesn’t like that name.

  But he doesn’t seem to care about that. He kneels down and kisses me on the forehead. “You okay, darling?”

  I swallow hard at his tenderness, overwhelmed by it. “Yes.”

  “Good.” He whispers the word against my forehead. “Then you know what you need to do. The Xtabay has committed a grieve offense against the royal line of Ha-Shaitan. She must be destroyed. There is no other way.”

  Standing back up, he looks deep into my eyes as I lay there.

  I return his look, staring into his upside-down face. “What do I do?”

  “What you must. This will hurt.” The Devil grins at me as he reached out and sets his big hand in the middle of my chest, touching my heart. I can feel it flitting erratically under his hand.

  “Make her burn, darling. Make her burn with all the fires of hell!”

  He roars the last. And as he does, the witchfire tears out of the center of my body as if it is a rabid living thing made all of hungry teeth and claws. The heat of it singes my cheeks and eyelashes. It consumes him. It consumes me. It rises higher and higher, and, as it does, my back bows almost to the point of breaking and I scream in hellish, ecstatic agony, my voice merging with the roar of the flames. It’s such a pleasure to burn, I think, as I unleash this apocalyptic pillar of fire and destruction into the night sky.

  It grows, and its burning countenance contorts into something almost dragon-like as it stretches all the way to the roof of the mill. The creature’s makeshift jaws fall open and flames snap out of the funnel of its throat, consuming everything in its path. The building…the telephone wires far above…and, finally, my enemy.

  My witchfire…my infernal dragonfire…eats the goddess whole and screaming.

  61

  IT'S THE worse noise I have ever heard. It’s like the final noise as the Earth burns to death.

  I’m still screaming even as the goddess, now a flaming bundle of dirty rags, falls to the ground inches away from me. Far, far above, I see the dragonfire spread its wings as it dissolves into the night sky. It leaves behind flickers of light burned on my retinas.

  I turn my head. Hoarse and gasping, I stare at Xtabay for several seconds, barely recognizing what I’ve done to her. The pile of blackened bones and burned cloth gives off a sickly sweet odor, like graveyard flowers on fire. I watch it tremble on the concrete. And then, impossibly, a skeletal arm begins to rise out of the burning pile and I see a hand with five blackened, claw-like fingers stretch out in a fan.

  The Xtabay is still alive. I’ve never seen anything survive my witchfire…or the dragonfire…until now. And I know she won’t be forgiving once she’s back on her feet.

  Slowly—too slowly—I slide backward until I hit the edge of the building, then use it to claw my way back to my feet. I weave uncertainly, but force myself to back away even as the thing in the fire begins to tremble and rise from its own funeral pyre. A low hiss comes from the bones. I’m terrified it’s her words to me.

  Spinning around on my heels, I start to run, staggering like a drunk. I don’t look back, but I can feel her presence. Hell, I can smell her rotten, burning breath on my neck. It just spurs me to run faster…faster…

  I hit the street and start heading north, dodging around the cars that sit completely frozen in the street. It’s like some bad dream. The cars…the people in them…the few on the sidewalks walking to or from establishments at this late hour. Everyone is still trapped in Xtabay’s time-lock. As I weave between the cars as though they were some strange gauntlet set before me, I have a horrifying thought. What if Xtabay never releases the world from her spell? What if I can’t stop her and she leaves the world like this forever?

  I try not to sob as I reach the first intersection. I have no idea where to go, but I can hear a dull thumping noise in the street behind me. I can hear her coming, each angry footstep like a minor tremor in the street. I make the quick decision to duck inside one of the shops along Broad Street, but as I step out from behind a Volkswagen and onto the sidewalk, I smash right into Sebastian, who is running full tilt down the street.

  We both step back with a groan, holding our heads. “What the hell?” I say, dragging my fingers down my face and looking up.

  I’ve never seen Sebastian so frightened. He looks like he just threw his clothes on—shirt weirdly buttoned, the button on his trousers undone. He’s also wearing a thick black dog collar and a headband with long dog ears hanging off it. I ignore that a moment and say, “What are you doing out here?”

  With an angry snort, he shouts, “Oi, do you ever answer your bloody phone, woman?”

  I just glare at him, wondering why he hasn’t been affected by Xtabay’s spell. I can only guess it has something to do with what he is.

  “I’ve been busy!” I shout back, gesturing frantically. And then, sputtering with anger, I add, “What the hell are you wearing?”

  He stops, his eyes rolling upward to the headband. Ripping the dog ears off, he throws them into the street, giving me a sheepish grin. “Jordan likes pup play. We were—“

  I hold up a hand to stop him right there. “I don’t want to know anything about your weird sex life. What are you doing out here at this hour?”

  He stops to look at all the frozen people standing around us. “Th-this happened. And I tried to contact you because…what the bloody hell? What the fuckity fuck is this?”

  I’m not even sure how to answer that. But before I can even think of something to say, I discover we are out of time.

  Several cars in the street shake side to side—and then are forcefully blown back into one of the storefronts across the street as if they are mere toys. The display window of the shop shatters on impact and the cars crumple as they’re rolled onto their roofs, their alarms blaring. Sebastian stiffens and looks on the smashed cars in horror before turning his eyes back on the street.

  I look, too.

  Xtabay stands in the place where the cars were, glaring at us both. It’s obvious she’s been using her extraordinary powers to heal her wounds, but she isn’t quite there yet. Her body is pale and gelatinous, like the skin of a newborn baby, with all the veins and arteries showing blue beneath. Her features are strangely unformed, with just two black alien eyes without eyelashes or eyebrows, a rudimentary nose, and an angry, downward pointing slit for a mouth. She is completely bald and naked. But, as Sebastian and I stand there, stunned, little tendrils of coal-black hair sprout from her pale, moist scalp and curl down around her head, growing long and tangled as the seconds tick by.

  It reminds me of time-lapse photography. Xtabay’s hair thickens and lengthens until it reaches her ankles. Seconds later, she sprouts eyebrows and long black eyelashes and even a small froth of pubic hair between her legs. Fresh new nails, as long as cat’s claws, slide bloody and wet from her fingertips, and soon after, her skin thickens and darkens until it achieves the soft, brown-as-buckskin glossiness I touched in the sarcophagus earlier.

  It’s fascinating and repulsive, and when I glance over at Sebastian, he looks like he’s going to be sick all over himself. “Oi, who the fuck are you?” he demands.

  Ignoring me for the moment, Xtabay turns her attention on him.

  I start to warn him back, but it’s too late. With a mere dismissive flick of her hand, she knocks Sebastian back and he actually slides a few feet across the sidewalk until his head hits the bottom of a metal street lamp. He grunts as he slams to a halt, his dog collar jingling. He looks angry…and then very, very frightened as Xtabay advances. He tries scrambling up and away from this monstrosity, but he isn’t fast enough. Xtabay moves with inhuman speed, reaching him and slamming her bare foot down across his neck.

  Sebasti
an coughs and wheezes, grabbing her by the ankle, but I can see he can’t budge her.

  “You men,” Xtabay says coolly. “How dare you look upon a goddess and not kneel?” Grinning like the demon she is, she applies a bit more pleasure. Sebastian chokes.

  “Stop!” I shout at her, terrified she’s going to kill my best friend.

  Sebastian just barks a laugh as he hangs onto her ankle in defense. “Oh…darling…you don’t…want to do that…” he coughs out. And then he grins crazily. “But…if you…insist…I’d…much fancy…being a demoness!”

  Xtabay’s eyes blaze with anger as she stares down at him. Then, in a sudden turnabout, she hesitates as if she senses something is very wrong with him. She draws her foot back. “You are not a man. You, creature, are cursed.”

  Sebastian laughs maniacally as he scrambles to sit up against the lamppost. He makes a come-hither gesture. “What to find out how, you tosser?”

  Xtabay makes a noise of frustration as she backs away from my friend and turns to face me fully. Her eyes are full of fire and rejection. I feel the chill of those ancient eyes deep in my bones and it paralyzes me on the spot. “S-Sebastian, get out of here.”

  He pulls himself up to his full, lanky high. “Absolutely not! I’m not finished fucking with Aztec Murderer Barbie here.”

  Clenching his fists, he takes a step toward the goddess…then stops as she turns her head and gestures toward a young couple walking side by side on the sidewalk, stuck in mid-step. The man is gesturing toward something in the picture window of the bakery they are passing. Their forms shimmer and shake, and suddenly the two of them complete the step they were taking hours ago and stumble to a halt, looking around in confusion. Xtabay again gestures toward them, and both begin screaming in hellish agony as the skin along their faces and hands splits wide open, revealing their wet red musculature and bones beneath.

  I scream too as the skin is flayed swiftly and efficiently from their bodies. The man raises his arms in defense and the skin falls from it like ill-fitting sleeves. The woman screams even louder as the skin is torn from her face like a mask and the flesh of her legs simultaneously falls down to her bony ankles like ill-fitting stockings. Both totter around in circles in an agonized little dance of pain.