by G A Chase
Wandering through the cemetery hadn’t felt like passing benign spirits. “Then why do I feel like someone’s trying to steal my spirit when I walk through the cemetery?”
“If they can tap into your projection, your energy will keep them going for a while longer. By making you afraid, they expose the emotional faucet of your soul. If they manage to band together, their shared hunger could disrupt the projection that makes you possible. As basic components of Agnes’s hell that are immune from the professor’s doppelgänger projections, cemeteries are some of the few places where ghosts can congregate. Once they do dissolve into thin air, their randomly dispersed energy is like static electricity, which is what makes cemeteries feel so creepy.”
Though ghosts made Doodlebug’s skin crawl, they weren’t her biggest concern. “Tell me more about goblins. Can I kill them?”
“They can be disseminated in the usual ways. The big difference between goblin and doppelgänger is that once the fiends are created, they aren’t connected to the professor’s equipment, so they’re not very well monitored.”
“Thanks to the professor’s specific modifications, Sere is free from having to follow Jennifer for her body’s regeneration, as am I with Dooly. From what I know, we’re the only two with this freedom. One of my mandates is to investigate what Marjory Laroque is up to in hell. Even among the rich, the nursery rhyme is well-known, so her family’s doppelgängers know of the existence of their distorted goblin cousins. What if Marjory learned what you just told me?”
“Now you know why I wanted to talk where our conversation would remain a secret. During my checking in on hell, I saw the small dragons in the Treme. After doing a little investigating in life, I found that there’s a new drug on the streets. It makes the user feel invincible, like they could fly. As with the most druggies, so far no one has taken only that drug, so the dragons that are created in hell aren’t stable. Word is, Marjory rounded up a group of indigents and force-fed them her concoction. All she ended up with was a basement full of dragons in her hell mansion that won’t leave the house, but she’s not the type to let one failed experiment stop her.”
“At least one batch did get out.” Doodlebug said. “Which brings us to the topic of your pet dragon.”
“Smoke is a friend, not a pet. We—and by we, I mean you—need to get ahead of the Cormorant and Madam Laroque. You can’t do it alone, so I created Smoke to help you.”
“You said Marjory used a designer drug for her little flappers. If that monster out in the swamp is similarly drugged up, how can I trust him?”
Chloe got up and headed to a small table lined with bottles that was nestled into a corner of the room. She half-filled a tumbler with absinthe. “I call this drink Dragon’s Breath. It’s not for the lightweight drinker.” She set a slotted spoon with a sugar cube on top of the glass. “The sugar is laced with LSD, over which I pour Fireball liqueur.” The clear green alcohol in the glass turned cloudy as it fought with the red intruder like green fairies staving off an attack of fire ants. “This is where I take things to the next level.” She dispensed a few drops from a bottle of witch bitters into the concoction and swirled the glass. “A shot of this by Bernie will keep his dragon doppelgänger Smoke going for hours. But too much, and Bernie blacks out. If that happens, you won’t be able to reason with Smoke. He’ll go full demonic dragon.”
“And if Bernie doesn’t get his routine dosage?”
Chloe set down the glass filled with turbulent alcohols. “Smoke will turn back into a regular doppelgänger. Unlike the destitute people Marjory uses as the foundations for her dragons, Bernie isn’t some drugged-out street kid. He’s been studying under me to become a spellcaster. He volunteered to help.”
Doodlebug had been in hell long enough to know that harvesters were nothing more than doppelgängers who’d missed too many of their real’s computer updates. “And when the dragon needs his next bodily projection? I don’t need some flying bat going all bony on me in midair.”
“As I said, you’re not the only one who doesn’t trust the professor’s equipment. There’s a tattooed rune behind Bernie’s left ear that sends his projection directly to Smoke. It works similar to your headband, but the two of them can’t talk to each other the way you and Dooly do. Your dragon won’t have to follow his real’s life. He has all the limitations and freedoms you have without the technological tether to the professor’s computers. One of the reasons I wanted you to come out here was so you’d know where to find me in case there’s a problem.”
“How am I supposed to convince a forty-foot-tall dragon to follow me out to the swamp if he gets too much hallucinogen?”
“Bernie stays out here with me. No matter Smoke’s mental state, he’ll gravitate back toward his real.”
Doodlebug could just see the giant dragon’s real as some goth, nerdy loner kid who had never fit in and wandered out to the swamp, seeking some method of getting back at his peers. “So that somehow means I’m supposed to trust him? Sounds to me like you’ve done all of Marjory’s work for her. If she captures that brute, she’ll figure out what you’ve done. Then we’ll all be screwed.”
Chloe crossed her arms. “I can only offer you my assistance.”
“I don’t trust you any more than I do that dragon. The only one I believe in life is Sere, but that’s because she’s part doppelgänger. Seeing her take on a harvester in hell and offering me a way out of my situation—and knowing that she’s good for it—bought my trust. As a member of the group who claims to be helping her, however, you’ve gotta give me something more than conjuring a dragon. How do I know you’re not secretly Marjory’s alchemist?”
“As you said, I would have already done all of the work for her. If I’d given her the information, she would have already loaded up a group of demons on monster-sized dragons and had them fly out of hell. If I were involved, you would have a much harder time containing the creations.”
Doodlebug never trusted people in life. They all knew how to lie. “That is, assuming you didn’t have me drug out here as a distraction while Marjory did exactly as you’ve just described.”
“The hellmouth hasn’t yet opened today. If you want, Smoke can fly you out there so you can see for yourself.”
4
Doodlebug waited until she was out of sight of the cabin before focusing on Dooly. “I suppose I have to trust him. I can feel the opening of the hellmouth in my gut. If Marjory has a group of demons headed toward the gate, it’s already too late for me to intercept them on the freeway. My only option is to let the brute fly me out to find them.”
Dooly was busy collecting the change from her violin case. “You’re going to show him where the hellmouth is?”
“Don’t be daft. I don’t need those little flamers homing in on Smoke like a gigantic beacon. I’ll have him fly me out to Joe’s cabin. Even flying on dragons, the demons would have to pass the old shack before working their way over the bayou. It’s one of the path markers. We can make our stand there.”
“What do you want me to do?” Dooly stashed her violin in its case and faced the far end of the Quarter as if her day had ended.
Doodlebug stood at the edge of the field, staring at the dinosaur-looking dragon. “I don’t think there’s much you can do. Whatever happens up in the air, I’ll be at his mercy. Leave your headband on. I’ll be in touch when I get out to the hellmouth.” She pulled the connecting piece of cloth off and stashed it in the leather pouch.
As she walked out into the open, Smoke lifted his wing like a giant umbrella. “What’s your decision?”
She stared up at him for a moment. “I guess you’re all right. Fly me out to the swamp.”
He arched his back, bringing his head to the treetops. “I’m not some donkey you can order around.”
“I thought you were supposed to help me.” She wasn’t in the mood for another helper like Dooly, who thought she had a say in what Doodlebug did simply because she offered assistance. Doodlebug balled her ha
nds into fists and pressed them to the hips of her used army pants. “How is this supposed to work if you don’t do what I tell you to do?”
“It’s called a partnership. We each get a say.”
She stomped out from under his wing and headed across the soggy meadow. It would be a long walk back to the city. “I guess Sere will just have to put down the demons herself this time. Anyway, it’s not like I’m her fill-in so she can take a vacation.”
“Hang on a minute.” Smoke folded his giant wings. His webbed feet made the ground shake as he took a thundering step after her. “You need help, but that doesn’t mean I’m your slave. Why are you being so difficult?”
She turned toward him. With him only ten feet away, she had to arch her back and crane her neck as far as it would go to look up at his face. “I’m in charge.”
“Fine,” he bellowed. A burst of flame shot from his snout to the far side of the field. “But I’m not letting you get either of us turned to dust. If you propose a half-assed, ill-considered, death-assured plan, I’m going to fight you on it.”
She didn’t want to admit that he had a point. “Well, the hellmouth is about to open. Your creator back there said you’d take me out to the swamp so I can see that she isn’t turning over a bunch of dragons like you to Marjory Laroque. You’re her proof as much as she’s yours.”
“You could have said that to begin with instead of ordering me around.” He knelt down and laid his head next to her. “Climb on.”
Smoke’s snake-like body wasn’t much wider than Doodlebug was tall. The ridged scales along his neck and back extended into long, hard spikes that made for good handles. She knelt between the two rows at his shoulders like a jockey at the starting gate. “Joe’s cabin is north of the city. I’ve only been there by using the roads, so you’ll need to follow the highway that runs along the swamp for me to figure out where it is.”
“I know the place. There’s a shortcut along the river.” With two flaps of his massive wings, they were clear of the trees and high enough that none of the Cormorant’s bird spies would spot them.
She would have argued with him about their direction, but maintaining her balance while hanging on to his spikes like the handlebars of a motorcycle took most of her attention.
Smoke glided over the cabin nestled among the trees on the river’s edge. “I haven’t seen any of Marjory’s fiery flapping bats.”
“After hearing you how you roasted her little pigeons, she might have gone back to sending her minions in on foot. I’ll need to patrol the forest to make sure they don’t sneak by.” Doodlebug leaned over his side. “The forest is too dense for me to see the ground.”
He took a wide arcing turn over the swamp. “There’s no place big enough for me to land.”
Having spent all of her time in New Orleans, Doodlebug had never been fond of water. Usually, it either meant flooded streets or drowning in the river. “If you can fly low and slow over the water, I can dive in.” Looking at the wind-tossed trees below, she didn’t see much of an option.
Smoke’s nod undulated down his neck. “Sounds like a reasonable plan. That will leave me free to patrol the sky in case they’re planning an aerial attack.” He glided down low to the treetops before diving toward the water. His chin came so close to the river, Doodlebug was certain he was going to plunge in. As he spread his wings and arched his neck up, she skidded along his spine as if she were going down a water slide. He slapped the water with his webbed feet to get the main part of his body back up into the air. With his tail below the river’s surface, her splash barely created a ripple.
Once he was safely back overhead, she dog-paddled to the dock and hauled herself out of the water. The pain that had been poking at her gut grew so intense that she curled into a fetal position on the wooden slats. “Damn it, woman, why couldn’t you be satisfied with sending demons through the gate? Do you really have to activate your infernal connection to hell?”
Of all of Doodlebug’s responsibilities, being a plank in Marjory Laroque’s secret bridge of the damned that connected hell with the woman’s paranormal vault in life was the most repugnant. While her body was being pounded like a cheap hooker, Doodlebug’s awareness transferred to the trapped souls in the hell version of the professor’s equipment that Andy had managed to infiltrate.
The spirits around her appeared as one large, flaming tornado. The doppelgänger demons who had escaped hell and gone on killing rampages in life were the orange-and-red protective outer layer. The far more precious inner yellow-and-white section was made up of recently deceased souls that the doppelgängers had devoured. The vacant inner shaft was where a soul from life could pass into hell or their doppelgänger’s spirit could make its escape into life. At the far end—away from hell and in the promised land of the living—Marjory’s vault could fuse the two spirits into one superior body, creating an immortal.
I stopped the last airborne demon invasion, so Marjory can’t have a doppelgänger body to play with. Even she wouldn’t be foolish enough to use a mortal human body for her demon spirit to possess. What could she possibly be up to? Without Sere’s consultation, all Doodlebug could do was watch and wait.
The screeching, ear-piercing shrieks of a soul being cast from life into hell overwhelmed the roar of the flames. Unlike when Doodlebug had helped Jennifer’s soul cross back from hell into life to reunite with her homemaker body or even when Devlin had attempted immortality by fusing with his doppelgänger in life, this soul had no interest in making the crossover. The flaming column that Doodlebug occupied erupted like it had tried to consume gasoline as the soul interjected its energy into the conflagration.
When the flames died down, Doodlebug could hear the man screaming, “Let me out of here! How am I supposed to open the office door if I’m in this electronic cage? You said I’d be immortal.”
She recognized the defiance as much as the voice. It was Aloysius, the matching real of the demon she’d faced on the freeway. If he could figure out how to use the computer he was trapped in, he might figure out how to disable the security system. I really don’t need another adversary in hell.
Like the members of a brass band after a second line parade, the demons and souls dispersed back to their software once the door to Aloysius’s computer cell had closed. Only Doodlebug, who’d snuck through life without being decapitated by Sere or her friends, returned to a hell body.
A blast of hot, swamp-smelling gator breath brought Doodlebug out of her connecting coma. As she opened her eyes, she realized she was staring at overlapping rows of three-inch-long teeth-daggers. The monster’s scaly jowls lifted toward the baseball-sized green eyes as if he were smiling.
“Lefty!” She’d never been so happy to see the thirty-foot gator in her reincarnated existence. “What are you doing here? You should be with Sere, guarding the hellmouth. I thought you were her constant protector.” Doodlebug reached out and patted his scute-lined snout.
He wiggled his head toward the open water as if searching for demons.
“I’ll bet she sent you back to fool the Cormorant, didn’t she? As long as you’re here, that birdwoman would assume Sere was as well.” She checked the water for demon parts. If Marjory had attempted a second-prong attack to go with casting Aloysius into hell, the giant gator and the flying dragon would have made a meal of the escapees. The river was storm-tossed as always, but she didn’t see any arms or legs floating on the waves. “I need to talk to Sere—someplace private. With Marjory playing computer hacker, I don’t dare try using our headband system.” Having Sere put on the third headband for a three-way talk would make the conversation all the more noticeable.
Lefty lifted his head toward the deep swamp. He eased off the dock and slid back into the river then floated alongside the railing like a Venetian gondola waiting for its customer.
“You’ve never steered me wrong before.” Doodlebug lay on her side and rolled onto his bumpy back.
The pelting of rain and the slow rocking of
his body as he swam along the swamp’s waterways lulled her into a state as close to sleep as she could envision. “It’s like death, complete acceptance and no more worries.” She allowed herself the comfort of focusing only on the swaying of his body.
Doodlebug scrunched her face. Something wasn’t right, but it took her a moment to figure out what. “Nothing’s hitting me.” She opened her eyes to see a clear blue sky. The gentle rocking of the giant gator swimming through the swamp transitioned to the firm rolling of his shoulders while he climbed onto an island.
She’d been to the hellmouth in the center of the storm before, but that had been at what reality called midnight. Back then, she’d been part of an invading force, and sightseeing hadn’t been part of the plan. Other than the lack of wind and rain, she didn’t remember much of the event other than the excitement of the upcoming transition between dimensions.
She had also experienced a clear blue sky before, but that had been in life while conducting her guerrilla attacks. “It’s so blue.” The color seemed to go on forever.
Between fighting, surviving, and being pummeled by the storm, her existence had been one continuous struggle to survive. Lying out on the alligator’s muscular back with nothing to do but enjoy the ride made her hope the trip would never end.
As Lefty hauled his massive body into a field of elephant-ear plants, she sat up to marvel at her surroundings. Trees stood tall and unbent in the calm air. Smells of flowers and plants wafted up from the ground, where Lefty’s feet left deep impressions. The sun on the horizon was so intense, it made her eyes squint and water. She lifted her hand to block the morning light filtering through a wide cypress tree. High above the ground, an old cabin was lodged in the limbs. “Where are we?”
Lefty settled his belly onto the grass at the edge of the meadow. With one long snort, he cleared off a large flat stone, revealing a strange marking carved deep into the rock.
