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

by K. H. Koehler

  Snarling, Xtabay makes a chopping gesture toward them and their screams cut out abruptly as their heads snap sideways with the loud crunch of twisting bones. Their eyes close. I expect them to drop where they stand like marionettes under the cruel influence of an unseen master, but they merely sag for a second before standing back up and opening their eyes.

  Their eyes are as black and empty as Xtabay’s own. I can see her in them as they totter toward us, their bloody red arms outstretched. Sebastian rattles off a series of British curses I can’t even begin to follow. I duck the couple’s embrace and race out into the street, calling to my BFF, but he doesn’t move fast enough. He gapes at the scene as if he can’t believe it. Meanwhile, the two skinless zombies trap him against the door of the bakery.

  “Sebastian, get the hell out of there!” I shout.

  He starts to panic as the two zombies try to snag him by the arms, then notices the blue and white shop awning with the Dale’s Delicacies bakery logo printed on it. Reaching up, he grabs the edge of the awning and jumps, kicking the two zombies hard in the chest to launch himself up and onto it. The zombies go down hard in the street, and Sebastian turns himself upside down and lands on his knees on the awning. Naturally, the fabric sags under his weight, so he quickly scuttles backward over the gutters and onto the roof, where he crouches.

  The height doesn’t bother him at all as he stands up. “Acrobat training from me time in the circus,” he informs me, giving me a sweeping, professional bow. “Now run! Get the bloody hell outta here!”

  “I’m not leaving you…!”

  “Go!” he screams as the two zombies totter back to their feet and stare at me with those black, hungry eyes of theirs. “The bitch can’t do a damned thing to me and she knows it!”

  I don’t want to leave my friend, but I know he’s right.

  Turning to Xtabay, I growl out, “Fuck you!”

  She just laughs as I run away.

  62

  I’VE MADE it halfway down the avenue crowded with stopped vehicles and frozen people when it hits me. What the hell am I doing? Where the hell am I going? Where is there to go? If I go home, Xtabay will find me there. If I try to get out of the city, she’ll just follow.

  I stop in the street and turn to face her.

  Xtabay is approaching slowly, walking casually down the sidewalk on one side of the street, but as she passes the people frozen in whatever act they were doing, each starts to scream as they are forcibly torn from stasis, their flesh ripped from their tortured bodies, and their neck snapped like twigs. They stagger a long moment before righting themselves, but as their eyes open in their horrible, skinless faces, I just see her eyes reflected back at me. Then they start staggering after Xtabay, walking in her footsteps.

  I flinch each time it happens and issues a low moan.

  Xtabay smiles. Out of her mouth unfurls that black lotus like some alien second mouth. It licks at the corners of her lips, looking like a rotted black starfish. As in that dream I had of the burning city, she starts to speak, but only to my mind.

  Little flower…come back to me.

  I stumble back, colliding with a man frozen behind me, and have to scramble to keep from falling. As soon as I’m back on my feet, I screech, “Why? So you can turn me into one of them?” I gesture wildly at the growing army of Red Walkers staggering after their mistress. “Or a new Sister Marie? Use me until you’re sick of me and someone new turns your head?”

  The Xtabay and the Ha-Shaitan have always been allies…

  “Oh, my god. You need to stop living in the past!”

  Her impromptu army of the dead is moving faster, I note, overtaking Xtabay and moving past her as the bitch continues her leisurely pace toward me. I swing around and look both ways down the intersecting avenue. My panic edges up a notch; I’m quickly losing all sense of direction. Thankfully, down one way, I spot the spire of Father Matt’s church.

  I don’t know if the holy place will have any effect on Xtabay or her Red Walkers, but I’m totally out of ideas, so I start running that way. The Walkers immediately pick up their pace like they can smell my fear, and as I start running full tilt, I listen to the sound of their frantic footsteps and ragged breathing all the way down the street to the doors of the church.

  That’s when I make the absolute worse decision. I should have tried the side door of the church with the hopes that Father Matt left it open, but I don’t think. I can’t think. I race past the big cross and up the steps of the church to the double doors.

  There is a chain and lock on the big, arched, oaken doors!

  I start pounding wildly on the glass panels depicting two doves with olive branches in their beaks, but of course no one answers. Everyone is stuck in Xtabay’s time-lock, including anyone who might have been able to help me in the church. I’m still pounding and screaming at the top of my lungs when they reach the bottom of the stair.

  I swing around, screaming for my father. It’s come to this: I’m calling on the Devil for help. But even he doesn’t show.

  Looking down at all the bloody skeletons in street clothes gathered below, I feel sick. Xtabay is still half a block away, but the first Red Walker advances up the steps—a tall man in a business suit, his black eyes wide and trained on me. I hear a whimper gather in my throat as he approaches. I start clawing at my coat, looking for anything that can help me, but he moved fast and, in seconds, his hands fall on my shoulders and he pushes his gory, sideways-twisted face with its bloody, lipless grin close to mine, hissing.

  “Get off!” I screech hysterically, pushing him back. He goes down on the stoop of the church easily enough, but another—a woman—is behind him, reaching for me. Her claw-like hands get tangled in my hair and I moan in fear as I try to twist away, but there are too many to fight. Their hissing fills my head. I think about scooting down and maybe climbing between their legs, but a Red Walker no more than seven or eight latches onto my legs, nails sinking in. I scream as they surround me, trapping me against the doors of the church.

  With no more ideas left, I let my most primal instincts take over and start thrashing and fighting even as the gory meat puppets claw at my clothes and face. I slap hands away. I claw at softy meat face. But it doesn’t even stun them. They crowd me, tangling their red meaty hands in my sleeves and start dragging me down to the ground.

  Their hissing and their hideous red faces send me into a fresh panic, and I feel the stairs slide out from under me as they drag me down the steps on my ass. I make a “huuuukp,”-type noise as they pull me down each step. It’s all I can do to keep my head from slamming into the concrete walk as they drag me over the curb and out into the middle of the street. I’m still screaming, begging, and practically pissing myself when Xtabay parts her hideous, faceless followers and smiles down on me placidly.

  “I told you that you would be mine forever, little flower.”

  “Fuck you!” I spit at her, not that it seems to bother her in the least.

  Xtabay just blinks the droplets of spit off her eyelashes. She smiles down on me sadly and reaches out to draw a circle on my cheek with her fingernail. “You may fight me now, fire flower, but soon you will fight me no longer…”

  Looking up at the Red Walkers, she tells them, “Hold her.”

  They clamp those horrible, slimy red hands over my arms and legs, pinning me to the street. One tears at my coat and shirt beneath, exposing my breasts. I roar obscenities at Xtabay until my throat is sore. I twist and fight. Xtabay is no fucking different from the endless procession of men who have tried to own me over the years. So many have tried to bend me their will and make a plaything of me. But she is a hundred times worse than they are. She should know better. She should know better than this!

  Burn her down, my mind whispers. Burn it all to the ground!

  Before I even stop to consider it, I feel the heat gathering within me. Really, it’s always there, boiling just under the surface of my skin. Waiting for a reason to rise. And, now, at last, i
t has one.

  I stiffen up as it seizes me. I feel that fierce and hungry fire pass like a shockwave over my prone body. I hear the roar of the flame in my ears. I feel the depth of the pleasurable pain like some massive orgasm.

  The wave of blue fire ripples out over the Red Walkers holding me down, consuming them like kindling. At first, they just look with fascination on the flames engulfing them. They seem incapable of feeling it—or caring about it if they do—as the wave of flame travels over their flesh and skullishly grinning faces. Within seconds, my witchfire, hotter than any normal fire, burns what is left of them down to black bones that fall in clatters to the street.

  Xtabay, already wary of my fire, takes a quick step backward.

  I exhale a long plume of acrid smoke. With their hands off me, I scuttle backward until I hit the curb. I’m shaking violently as I grope my way to my feet.

  Xtabay faces me, looking unsure.

  I’m burning hot. But instead of feeling sweaty and uncomfortable, I experience the pleasure of the burning tickling over my skin…and other parts. It licks like hot tongues at my delicate girl parts and I groan in pleasure. For the first time, I’m not afraid. I feel strong. When I lift my arms, I see the blue witchfire coasting up and down my limbs. I feel it shivering through every strand of my hair. I can feel the bite of the fire against my cheeks. I peer past Xtabay and into the dark glass of the bookstore across the street. I’m not overly surprised to learn I’m entirely on fire.

  Once again, I remember my dream. I could set the whole city to burning with my dragonfire. Cleanse it of Xtabay forever and ever. Then I would never need to fear her or her undead army again. That idea appeals to me. I don’t like being afraid. I’m tired of being afraid. Of others. Of myself. Of what I might become. I think about what a pretty fire it would make. All those buildings alight…all those people.

  It is, after all, a pleasure to burn.

  I lift my arms, prepared to give Xtabay and the rest of this city my kiss of flame, but Sebastian suddenly appears in the street behind Xtabay. He stands there, panting and disheveled, eyes wide with fright. He shakes his head and mouths, Don’t do it, witchy.

  I suddenly think of Mac. Father Matt. My brides. The people I’ve helped. I don’t want them to burn, but I know there’s no way to control the dragonfire once I’ve loosened it on the world. The last of the burning Red Walkers are dropping to the ground around us. Xtabay looks on them sadly before turning her attention back on me.

  She extends her hand to me. I could give you the world!

  A dead world, I think. A world without people like Sebastian in it. With a wave of my arm, I extinguish the flames dancing around me. Stupid, stupid witch, I think as a realization comes to me. Reaching into my pocket, I withdraw the Devil’s Tarot and slide the cards apart, their edges glinting wickedly in the dim light of the burning bodies in the street. The cards. The cards are an athame! How could I have not realized that fact until now? And a witch’s athame will harm any other witch threatening her.

  Xtabay stares at the cards, suddenly concerned. She’s afraid of them!

  “Witch bitch,” I whisper as I turn sideways and draw the cards close to my chest. She’s so beautiful, it hurts to look upon her, but goddess or not, she’s just another monster. Which is why I swing around, extend my arm fully, and let the cards fly.

  They cut through the air like a metal dervish, and the noise they make is enough to set your teeth on edge. I expect them to cut into Xtabay’s throat, but she does the unexpected and lunges at me with a cry. The cards whirl right over her head and fly across the street, lodging into the bricks of the bookshop.

  I scream in outrage as Xtabay tackles me, her body pinning me to the ground. I start to twist and fight, but she grabs my wrists, pressing them to the concrete walk. Her body presses against my legs, preventing me from kicking out. She’s so much stronger than I am. All I can do is sob and beg like some desperate child.

  “Shhh…” she whispers. Her lips go to my neck, and her cold black lotus kiss sends icy shudders up and down my spine.

  Over her shoulder, I can see the cards embedded in the bricks of the shop. Calling them back will kill us both. But I suddenly don’t care. I’m done being victimized. Anything is better than to never be free of this terrible fear. So, I twist my right hand so hard, she has to let me go. She’s busy kissing and licking my neck, so she doesn’t notice when I extend my arm and stretch the fingers of my hand to the cards.

  They shiver almost imperceptibly.

  Come on! Please! Come to me!

  Another shiver. And then they do. The last thing I see is that deadly, witch-killing blade flying toward the two of us.

  Then: darkness.

  63

  “WITCHY? WITCHY, wake up!”

  A hand slaps me across the face. The voice and the sharp pain pull me forcibly out of the darkness. Opening my eyes, I blink up at Sebastian’s face. Looking concerned, he tries to slap me again, but I reach out and stop his hand. “I’m awake. Stop.”

  He sits back on his haunches on the ground and rests his hands on his knees. “Are you sure? Maybe all this is a dream. It could even be the afterlife.”

  I glare up at him. “If it was the afterlife, you wouldn’t be here.”

  “True,” he agrees.

  I’m lying on the cold ground, staring up at the sky, which is quickly lightening to that familiar grey just before dawn. So, I think, time is marching on again. I consider that a victory. But how in hell am I alive?

  “Get me up,” I say, and Sebastian grabs me by the arm as he stands up, dragging me to my feet. I’m dizzy and it takes me a moment to orient myself. I’m standing in the middle of the street outside the church. Bundles of burning cloth are scattered like small bonfires around the street. I look at them, reminded that all of these were once people. The burning of hair and people-flesh fills the morning air, making me feel queasy.

  Leaning over, I wait to heave into the street. But Sebastian comes up behind me and wraps an arm around me, covering my mouth with his hand. “Way to leave DNA at the scene of a major crime,” he warns. “We need to get out of here before the police show up.”

  I swallow hard and wait for my stomach settle. When it does, Sebastian withdraws his hand. “What about…?” I have to catch my breath swallow again. “What about…her?”

  Sebastian laughs. “Ding dong, the witch is dead.” He points to the walk in front of the church steps. Bones are scattered across the street, with the skull several yards away where it was effectively clipped from the body by the Devil's Tarot. My cards are lying scattered in the street. They did not kill me—but then, that was something else I’d forgotten. A witch cannot be harmed by her own athame.

  Sebastian walks to where they are laying and picks one up. When he turns it over, it’s the Death card. Because he is holding them, they all are at the moment. “What are they?”

  “My…” I almost say my Tarot, but then I rethink that. “My athame.”

  “Ah.” He picks them up, being delicate about handling them, and brings them to me. “Insert snappy, card-game-related comeback here,” he says, giving me a sweeping bow. “Now let’s get the hell out of here, you cunt. I’m getting too old for this shite.”

  Together, we limp back to the shop, our arms around each other like wounded combat veterans. The first police car passes us on the way to the scene of the crime, but it’s going in the opposite direction.

  64

  THE INCIDENT doesn’t get much coverage. But then, despite the city bringing in the FBI, then the CIA, and, finally, the NSA, no one can put together a coherent story about what really happened. No one can explain the car accidents, the burning remnants of people in the streets, or the calcified bones of the decapitated woman that experts have carbon-dated to five billions years—over a half a billion years older than the oldest known fossil on Earth. With so little story to pick over, people quickly lose interest and start concentrating on the latest scandal in the next news cycl
e.

  There is speculation, of course. A Russian dirty bomb. A gas leak. An ISIL attack. A mob war. The list goes on and on. Mac visits me a few days after the incident. We retire to the Laundromat and he tells me the police have no leads, though the ancient bones continue to both stump and interest the authorities. I tell him that’s for the best and the bones belong in a museum.

  He laughs. “You sound like Indiana Jones.”

  I smile back at him over my coffee and reach out to take his hand on the table between us. I feel him stiffen and his eyes blank out slightly as I exert my influence through our bond. “I trust you’ll keep my involvement in your case out of your report? After all, the murders have stopped.”

  He nods. “They have. And no, I haven’t included you in any of my reports. Don’t want to be laughed at for having a pet witch.”

  I smile at that. “Pet witch, huh?” I make a swirl over the back of his dark hand, creating a burning ideogram that quickly vanishes. Mac’s eyes blank out briefly before returning to their usual brown color. “Are you sure you’re just not my pet detective?”

  He blushes at that as if I’ve implied some double-entendre. “You had something to do with stopping those murders, didn’t you?”

  Instead of answering him, I change the subject to something more pleasant and romantic—specifically what I want to do to him once he gets off work. I love him. And I love Father Matt. I’m not letting them go that easily.

  You will never know real love in your whole life. Not as I could have shown it to you.

  I shake off Xtabay’s words as nonsense. She was a liar. A manipulator.

  I have to believe that. The alternative is just too horrible to contemplate.