Hell Away from Home (The Devil's Daughter Book 5) Page 13

  A black panther that was more shadow than substance stepped into her path. With a purr and a blink, he headed into the depth of the dark woods.

  “Well, it’s not like I can get any more lost.” She hurried along to keep close enough not lose sight of the animal.

  At a section of trunks that had grown together, he headbutted open the small door, letting out a patch of light.

  “What have you brought home for me this time, Midnight?” Chloe asked from inside.

  Doodlebug put her hand against the door before it swung shut and stepped inside. “It’s just me.”

  “I wasn’t sure I’d see you again.” The witch put her teapot on a wood-burning stove and took a seat on the couch next to the large cat. “I’d offer you something to drink, but being in different dimensions makes sharing a pot a challenge. Did Smoke fly you out here?”

  She didn’t want to give the big bat any more credit than was strictly necessary. “He did. Maybe you should cut back on the bitters in your drink recipe. He’s being a bit ornerier than normal.”

  Chloe pulled her feet up onto the cushions. “Something tells me he might say the same about you.”

  Doodlebug held her fists at her sides and stamped her foot. “He doesn’t listen. Couldn’t you find someone more reasonable as the basis for my dragon?”

  “I’m not running a pet store, and Smoke isn’t yours. Learn to work together. Now, did you really come all the way out here to discuss dragon temperaments?”

  “No.” Doodlebug struggled to control her emotions. “I’m searching for Sanguine. You told me you two used to talk to each other over different dimensions. Before I lost Sere to Baron Samedi, she said hell’s angel could manipulate her surroundings, but I have no way of knowing if anything has changed. I was hoping to consult my journal to see if a past version of me mentioned something useful, but the book wasn’t where I left it. Did you take it?” Even though Chloe was only a ghost in hell, keeping the book in the crypt meant the original diary was back among the living where the real witch could easily snatch it.

  Chloe eased her feet off the couch and put her elbows on her knees. “Maybe I should have. You and Dooly can’t be so careless as to leave information like that lying around. But no, I don’t have it.”

  Doodlebug couldn’t see any reason why the woman would hide the truth. “Since I can’t consult my memories regarding changes to hell, do you have any idea what Sere was talking about?”

  Chloe got up and headed for the back wall, which served as a kitchen. She opened a cabinet that had been built into the wall. Inside were shelves full of open mason jars, some overflowing with water. “These are my mirror jars. Over time, I’ve collected water from the swamp in your dimension. Each of these containers represents a different situation in hell.”

  Doodlebug had no idea how a bunch of jars filled with water were supposed to help. “I don’t understand.”

  “Which part?”

  “Any of it.”

  Chloe picked up an overflowing jar. Though the water ran over her hand, it didn’t make it to the floor in Doodlebug’s dimension. “This is what you’re currently experiencing. The hurricane outside makes the water rise in the swamp, so this jar is constantly overflowing.”

  Doodlebug looked at the other glass containers in the cabinet. “But what’s with the rest of the jars? There’s always a hurricane outside. Why aren’t they all overflowing?”

  “Now there’s a hurricane. That wasn’t always the case.” She set the turbulent container on the table and pulled out another jar. Though water still streamed down the sides, it wasn’t nearly as active. “You do, however, have a valid point about changes to your version of now. I collected this sample just after Sere faced her first demon in life.”

  The science experiment was nearly as boring as Dooly’s attempted explanation of time. “So the storm got worse. Is that what you’re saying? How is that any help at all?”

  Chloe picked up the two jars. “This is the difference between when Sanguine was first held captive and what’s going on outside. The professor’s projected doppelgänger reality and the Wiccan-based underlying structure of hell work on different principles. Time in your dimension hasn’t changed between these two samples. So even though events progress for you, these samples should be the same.”

  Doodlebug stared at the two jars. “Then what’s happening?”

  “If what Sere told you is true, this might be Sanguine calling out for help in the only way she can.”

  Witchcraft ranked right below science on Doodlebug’s list of pursuits that didn’t make any sense. Still, defending the living against demon invasion meant she’d seen a thing or two in hell. “So Sanguine is calling out to the storm. That would make the middle of the hurricane the most logical place for her to be trapped. Both Agnes and Sanguine performed their spells and potions out in the swamp. I’ve been to their island. It’s nice, right smack in the eye of the storm. But I didn’t see any eight-foot-square iron box out there.”

  “You wouldn’t see it. It’s invisible.” Chloe shook her head. “But it’s not there. That was the first place I checked when Sanguine stopped responding to me. As a fellow witch’s sanctuary, it’s one of the few places in hell that I can manifest. The cabin is where she’s supposed to be. It’s her safe house. No one other than those she allows to can step foot on the island. Did Sere say anything else about the vault?”

  “Since it was last seen in the river, she thinks the Cormorant may have found it. My belief is that Marjory Laroque wants it, but Sere isn’t so sure.”

  Chloe bounced the back of her shoulders against the cabin wall as she bit her lip. “Assuming you’re right, if Madam Laroque knew where it was, there would be an all-out struggle for the box. Since there isn’t, I think it’s safe to assume she’s still searching for it. That would mean it would have to be hidden somewhere her doppelgänger spies couldn’t easily locate it. And if the Cormorant does have it, she wouldn’t want it too far from her reach. She’d stash it close to the river. That narrows down our search area considerably.”

  Doodlebug clenched her hands into fists. “You mean like the professor’s damn laboratory?”

  Chloe shook her head between hits to the tree trunk wall. “We’d have bumped into it. Though there might be a secret unused nook or two, a safe that big would be impossible to hide in any dimensional version of his offices. But the location does fulfill all of the requirements.”

  Doodlebug locked onto Chloe with her laser stare of disapproval. “You didn’t say anything about requirements.”

  “Sanguine isn’t a doppelgänger. She came to hell as a human being. Though this realm bends itself to her desires, she does still suffer the physical demands of a regular living person, which means she’s somehow being fed energy. And that means the vault is hooked up to a power source.” The witch took a cypress herb box from the table and dumped out the contents. Then she fashioned a small human figure out of straw and locked it inside. “Pretend this is Sanguine in the vault. She can’t be detected by any of our senses, but she can access the power that’s being fed to her. How would she influence her surroundings?”

  Doodlebug continued to fume. “I hate riddles. Just tell me the answer.”

  “I don’t have the answer. We’re trying to figure this out together. This is what people do when they have to solve a problem. They think it out by challenging each other.”

  “I don’t work well with others.”

  “Clearly. Now think.” Chloe shook the box. “How could Sanguine get a message to us? And if you say ‘magic,’ I’m going to hit you with this box.”

  “You can’t. You’re not really here.”

  “Now there’s a thought worth pursuing.” Chloe put the box on the table. “I’m not really there just as Sanguine being in the in-between dimensional box isn’t really in hell.”

  “But you said Sanguine couldn’t be seen or heard. I can see and hear you.”

  Chloe nodded. “That’s because m
y soul is interacting with the energy in hell similar to how a prism separates light. I isolate the green vibrations for my dress and reds for my face. You get the idea.”

  Not really. Doodlebug kept the comment to herself. She didn’t want to sound any stupider than she already felt. “How does this help us figure out where Sanguine is being held?”

  “We know she’s interacting with whatever is around her, and that’s how she’s making the storm worse. She can’t throw levers or cast spells, but she can manipulate energy.”

  “You mean like inside a computer?” Doodlebug asked.

  “Exactly. We don’t need to worry about the how so much as the where. If she’s messing with the storm, she needs to be somewhere fundamental to the inner workings of hell. That’s why the professor’s equipment would have made sense.”

  Doodlebug fell into the chair behind her and bit her lower lip. “Those little magic jars of yours wouldn’t happen to tell you about the storm’s lightning situation, would they?”

  “No. Why? What’s happening with the lightning?”

  “It’s coming from the World Trade Center and discharging into the storm. It damn near lit Smoke on fire as he flew over the waves.”

  Chloe collapsed back onto the couch next to her big cat. “With the runaway paranormal reaction going on in that tower, Sanguine would have a lot of power over the storm even if she doesn’t realize what she’s doing. Between the voodoo totems that the baron hauled up there, the scientific containment field that was supposed to keep all of the magical items safely dormant, and Sanguine’s witch magic, that storm could tear a hole straight through all three dimensions. At the very least, that would explain how the hellmouth became unstable enough to let the demons through.”

  The thought of entering the paranormal reactor made the flames of hell seem like a pleasant little campfire. “I’ve never heard of a single doppelgänger trying to enter that building.”

  “Let’s work this out.” Chloe leaned forward. “First up are the sentient beings of the professor’s projections: ghosts and goblins, harvesters and freaks. A ghost can only go where its energy extended during its existence. Ghosts are like footprints in the sand waiting for the water to wash them away, making it unlikely that a ghost would find its way into the tower. Goblins and harvesters have to rely on dialed-down energy from the World Trade Center to survive, but giving them the power directly—like from the streetcar lines—would zap them to dust. So if a goblin or harvester attempted entry, they would become a fire wraith. Seems like a pretty strong incentive to keep away.”

  “That leaves us freaks who skirt our updates. But first, what happens to a normal doppelgänger that opens the door?” Doodlebug asked.

  “Energy is funneled through the professor’s equipment to the living dolls in hell, so doppelgängers can get around the city without physical restrictions, but I’d guess that much raw power would scramble the signal like a dropped cell phone call.”

  “And me?” Doodlebug hated to ask. No matter Chloe’s answer, it wouldn’t bode well.

  Chloe ran the tips of her long, wavy blond hair through her fingers. “You’re like my friend Smoke—direct connection to your real. If you’ve got your headband on, you’re not completely reliant on the professor’s equipment. It works like a backup system.”

  “So I can enter so long as I’m wearing my headband? What about the part of hell that’s supposed to be under your care?”

  “You mean what Agnes Delarosa created? Animals aren’t smart enough to find the vault on their own, but the Cormorant could get inside where she’d be able to direct her birds. That tower is making more and more sense as the hiding place of the vault.”

  “And Sanguine?” Doodlebug didn’t see much point in searching for the vault only to realize there wasn’t anything she could do with it. “Assuming I can get into the tower, find the vault, and figure out how to open it, I’d just as soon not fry her to a crisp.”

  “Good point. That building was designed to keep magical objects out of the human dimension. Before you go busting into the vault, you’d better check with Kendell and her gang. I know they spent some time in the tower dealing with the devil, though that was before the reactor went critical.”

  Doodlebug wondered how many weapons she could reasonably carry into the building. “Too bad the Cormorant is the only one able to direct hell’s animals. Not only will I be going in there alone, I’ll have to face whatever birds she sends against me along with your sister witch’s lightning bolts.”

  “Don’t forget about Smoke.”

  Back on the path from Chloe’s cabin to the clearing, Doodlebug toyed with the headband against her chest. With Chloe and Smoke pleading innocent to pilfering the diary, she saw no other choice than to confront Dooly. There was always the chance that the girl had stashed the book in her backpack and forgotten to tell Doodlebug. “It would be just like that little gutter punk.” She pulled out the band of fabric and adjusted it around her forehead. “Have you been out to the cemetery lately? Our book is missing.”

  “You lost our diary?”

  Anger made Doodlebug stand stone still. “I didn’t lose anything,” she said between clenched teeth. “The book is on your side. All I can do is record information in it. I’m not even sure what would happen if I took it beyond the cemetery’s walls. Maybe someone has been watching you sneak onto the grounds and assumed the book might be worth something. Did you even think of that?”

  From the way the girl’s eyes refused to fully focus, Doodlebug assumed Dooly had been tying one on—not that she blamed the gutter punk after literally staring death in the face and being allowed to walk away. “Don’t get snippy with me. I’m the one lending you my life force in case you get into trouble.” No matter what danger Doodlebug was facing, Dooly always managed to make it about her and her cushy life. “This is bad. You wrote down all kinds of stuff that you’ve done in hell. If the wrong people get their hands on it, you could be in real trouble.”

  “Trust me, there are no right people in hell.” Doodlebug had to face the worst-case scenario. “If Marjory Laroque has it, she would know that I beheaded Andy. That could explain why she sent Aloysius’s soul to hell. If she’s had the book for that long, she’s had plenty of time to figure out what I’ve been up to. She must have known we were at the party. In which case, she’s been playing me like your cheap fiddle. You also went into considerable detail about my meeting with Nocturne, so she’ll know the Cormorant is using me to cover her ass as well.”

  “I only put down what you told me to write.” The girl’s whining was getting on Doodlebug’s nerves.

  “I’m trying to lay out the problems so you can warn the others. Without our book, I need you to take a message directly to the professor. Now shut up and listen. I think the baron’s old vault is inside the World Trade Center.”

  “What does that mean?” With their connection, Doodlebug knew the girl wasn’t asking for the obvious answer regarding the box’s location.

  “First of all, it means Sere was right about Sanguine raising a hurricane-sized hissy fit. But that’s not the worst result of her being locked up there. As hell’s natural guardian, her temper tantrum could be weakening the divide between dimensions.” She needed to be sure Dooly fully understood. “She’s the one that’s been widening the hellmouth.”

  Dooly dropped her bottle as she stood up from the sidewalk. “If Sanguine is the one who’s been letting the demons escape, we have to tell the others.”

  Her impassioned voice made Doodlebug’s head hurt. She leaned against a tree on the path back out to the meadow. “So they can do what—tell me I have to break into the paranormal reactor, find the vault, free the angel, and convince her to close the gate? What part of that don’t I already know?” Doodlebug wondered how Dooly could be so dense at times.

  “Maybe they can help. At least if they know what’s happening, they’ll know where to focus their attention.”

  “Do what you think you have to but
tell them not to bother me.” She slid off the headband before Dooly offered more unwanted advice.

  Doodlebug continued on her walk out of the forest, feeling more alone than ever. She stopped short of the clearing. Between the trees, she could see Smoke facing the storm like the wind and pelting rain were nothing more than an invigorating shower massage. Though he had his annoying moments, she had to admit that the big dragon had pulled her out of some dicey predicaments. “But what good are you going to be against the World Trade Center?” Short of landing on the roof—which had to be the most dangerous spot on the tower—he wouldn’t even be able to get close. Actually getting inside, where he might be able to do some good, would be impossible. As she hunted for the vault, all he could do was fly around the building, peeking in windows and pointing his fiery snout at her location. Even the Cormorant wasn’t so stupid as to not notice. “I’m sorry, but I have to face this danger on my own.”

  She turned away from the clearing. If Smoke knew what she was up to, he would just start arguing with her. Faced with the impossible task of entering the structure, she didn’t really need the big, fat flamehead to tell her how foolish she was being for even making the attempt.

  She looked around the swamp for some indication of the way back to town. Lightning bolts lit up the horizon. “He’s flown me out here twice, so I know roughly how far I am from the nearest roads. All I have to do is head for the light. At least the walk will be shorter than the one I used to take out to Kenner to ward off the demons.”

  12

  At the far side of the river, Doodlebug sat on the levee, watching the pyrotechnic display from the World Trade Center with a renewed awareness of her own stupidity. “I should have realized those bolts of electricity meant something.” Arcs of energy erupted from the ends of the gigantic, vertical X-shaped structure and ran along the arms up to the circular roof, which used to be a high-class restaurant. From there, bolts of lightning wider than Doodlebug’s body discharged in all directions. “If Sanguine is in there, she would have to be all the way at the top. Thirty-three floors of unknown terrors. I think I’d prefer dealing with the nursery rhyme’s monsters. Ghosts and goblins, harvesters and freaks are beings I understand.” She steeled herself for the job ahead. “One problem at a time. I haven’t even gotten inside yet, and it’s not like I can just pop the lock with my sword this time.”