Daughter of the Thirteen: Bourbon Street Witches Book 1 (14 page)

Bridgett rolled her eyes. “That’s just an old story to keep people away from the black tomb … and now we know why.”

“No, the story is true,” Mora insisted.

“Well you are free to turn back,” Bridgett told her.

Mora shook her head. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you all.”

“Where is this tomb?” Laurel asked.

“It was Bale that answered. “Not far. There’s an abandoned church in Jefferson Parish. The black tomb is hidden at the back of the church.”

“How do you know this?” Bridgett was skeptical.

“At one time the church was used as a vampire nest,” he confessed. “People stayed away because of the demon nun.”

‘That’s fantastic!” Mora grumbled. “More vampires.”

Arlene had remained quiet, but she finally broke her silence. “It isn’t the vampires we need to worry about. Mora’s right. The demon nun is real, and she is said to guard the door to Hell.”

“Hogwash,” Bridgett came back. “I’ve been in these parts my whole life, and I’ve never heard anything about a demon nun.”

“I hate to take sides, but I know vampires who have actually seen her,” Bale cut in.

“Laurel and I are leaving for Jefferson Parish at sunset … we’ll go alone if need be,” Bridgett snapped.

The carriage rocked violently as the driver maneuvered the ruts and gouges in the dirt road. It was apparent the road had not been used in years.

If it had been abandoned since the early 1700s, Laurel couldn’t help but wonder how much of the building would still be intact.

Getting information on old churches wasn’t easy, but Bale told them it had once been called Saint Joseph’s. With Bale being the only one of them that would have been living at that time, it was likely he knew what he was talking about.

If he knew about the church, then what he said about the demon nun was probably true also.

Laurel shuddered.

Perhaps it would have been better to do what was necessary to stay at the convent.

It was a nice thought, but not practical. The demons had no problem getting to her inside Saint Michael’s. Remaining there wouldn’t have been any better.

The carriage jerked to a stop. A moment later, the driver opened the carriage door and stuck his head inside.

“My apologies, but the road is impassable from here. It is not much further … only a short walk,” he informed them.

Bridgett left the coach first. Laurel followed.

She couldn’t wait to get out. Cramming five of them inside the coach was pushing its capacity limit.

The driver was right. From where she stood, Laurel could see the shadowy structure against the moonlit sky.

Without a word, Bale took one of the glowing lanterns from the carriage and started toward the church. It was better that way. If there were still vampires, he could warn them.

The church’s courtyard had long ago been choked out with weeds. A statue lay on the ground, crumbled and in decay. The building wasn’t in any better shape. It was downright spooky.

At one time the church might have been peaceful, even beautiful, but as Laurel stared at its ghost, it wasn’t difficult to imagine a nun had committed mass murder within its walls.

Stopping abruptly, Bale sniffed the air.

“Are there vampires?” Bridgett asked in a hushed voice.

Bale shook his head. “It’s clear … of vampires in any case.”

Laurel sighed. No vampires meant that was one less peril they would have to worry about.

As they drew closer to the building, Laurel felt as if she were entering a cloud of darkness, an evil so vile as to be incomprehensible to any but the Dark Prince himself.

The bolt and run instinct that was such a vital element of human survival, urged her to get away as fast as her legs would carry her.

It was the memory of Marcos’s eyes, his kiss, and the way she felt when she was in his arms that kept her putting one foot in front of the other. If she perished, so be it. Life without him would be one long miserable nightmare. It was better to fight and lose, than to have no hope.

One at a time they climbed the stairs, the old wood creaking loudly beneath their feet.

If there was anything hiding in the church, it already knew they were there.

With the interior of the building bathed in the lantern’s soft yellow light, it no longer seemed quite so terrifying, but the heavy - bad feeling was still there.

The building had been gutted. There were a couple pews left, pieces of broken statues, and an altar, but that was about it.

“Show us where the tomb is,” Bridgett whispered to Bale.

“Mind you … I haven’t seen it for myself,” he confessed. “I’ve just heard about it.”

At first she didn’t see the doorway behind the altar. It was hidden in shadow until Bale held up the lantern.

“It’s through there.” He pointed to a gaping hole in the wall where there had once been a door.

Bale went first, the witches followed.

When they stepped through the doorway, they found themselves in a small room with walls that had once been painted black. There were still traces of the paint, but most of the color had peeled away.

Laurel’s eyes were fixed on a black door. It was flush with the wall and appeared to be made of wrought iron. There was a cross cast in the metal, along with some words.

Stepping closer, Bale held up the lantern to put light on the writing.

“I think it is written in Latin,” he told them.

With everything she’d learned about keeping evil at bay while she was at Saint Michael’s, Laurel had no doubt about what the writing was. It had been put there to keep the evil locked behind the door.

“It is meant to keep whatever is behind that door, from escaping,” Laurel explained. “It’s beginning to look like the story of the nun is true.”

“There is no handle to open the door,” Bridgett pointed out, ignoring Laurel’s reference to the nun.

Bridgett was like that. When she wasn’t comfortable with something, she’d just as soon pretend it didn’t exist.

Mora shrugged. “With all of us together, we should be able to open it with a spell.”

“We need a protection spell too,” Arlene put in.

“Well whatever you wicked witches plan to do, I suggest you get on with it,” Bale grumbled. “I don’t plan on being here come sunrise.”

Bridgett turned to Laurel. “From here on out, you will need to lead. Your heart is the only possible chance we have to save Marcos, which is our mission.

Laurel nodded.

What Bridgett was trying to say was that the Hell she entered, would have to be her Hell. That was where she would find Marcos.

All four witches placed their right hand on the door and closed their eyes.

“Cast aside the words that bind … one through five, let us inside.” Bridget’s words echoed through the church.

The door was no longer static. It began to bubble and pulsate like red glowing lava.

When the glowing lessened and finally vanished, the witches stepped back. As soon as they did, the door creaked open.

Bridgett looked to Laurel; she had to be the one to open the door and step through the threshold.

“Bale … will you walk behind me?” Laurel asked. “I will need the light from the lantern.”

The vampire nodded, stepping behind Laurel. “I’ll stick to you like gooey honey on a hot day.”

Taking a deep breath to calm the erratic hammering in her chest, Laurel stepped through the doorway.

She’d expected to see that black coffin, but not what was sitting on top of it.

At first it seemed like a blob of dark matter, but it slowly began to take shape. It was draped in a nun’s habit, which wasn’t a big surprise.

What held her in a grip of terror was the thing’s face. The headpiece framed a half rotted face, but the eyes were alive and glowing a translucent green. A serpent’s tongue flicked in and out of the nun’s mouth.

They’d never discussed how exactly they would deal with the demon nun, if the story were true.

“Now … what?” Laurel stuttered, choking on the tentacle of fear wrapping its way around her throat.

“I don’t know. I need to think,” Bridgett whispered, panic evident in her voice.

Oh no!

If Bridgett was panicking, they were in trouble. Bridgett never panicked.

The whole time they were standing there, the nun’s eyes never left Laurel.

And then the thing spread its peeling rotted lips, smiling at Laurel.

“You wish to pass into the Underworld?” The deep - rasping voice echoed through her head.

With no idea of what she should do or say, Laurel jerked her head in what would pass as a nod.

The demon nun lifted a bony hand and an abyss of darkness opened up in front of Laurel. “Escape your fear … and see what awaits you at the other end.”

“We don’t have to do anything with the nun,” Bridget said in hushed tones. “She’s only here to guard the entrance.”

Laurel wished she could find comfort in Bridgett’s observation of their predicament, but she couldn’t.

It took all the willpower she possessed, but Laurel managed to push the fear aside and step into the void.

Suddenly she was isolated by thick - inky darkness. She knew the others were behind her, yet she was alone.

They were all still together, but each of them had entered their own hell.

The knowledge was there, when she hadn’t had it only seconds before.

Suddenly the darkness retreated and she found herself in a world of moving shadows. She was standing in a long corridor that went on for as far as the eye could see.

Every few seconds she would detect movement out of the corner of her eye, but when she’d turn to look, there was nothing their.

Laurel started down the corridor.

She’d been walking for what seemed an eternity, but still the end of the corridor was nowhere in sight.

There was more movement, but this time she caught a glimpse of what it was.

A huge spider ran in front of her. It wasn’t just an oversized spider. The creature had the body of a spider, but the head of an infant.

Laurel’s hand flew to her mouth to stifle a scream.

More of the creatures began emerging from black walls of darkness, and she froze.

Spiders had always terrified her. When she was a child, she’d have nightmares that the spiders would eat the babies at the orphanage. When babies crawled, they reminded her of spiders.

“It isn’t real Laurel. He’s playing with your fears.”

Laurel caught her breath.

The voice belonged to Marcos, but was it real? She hadn’t heard it with her ears, but more like it echoed from somewhere inside her own head.

Thinking of Marcos helped her move forward.

The creatures didn’t disappear, as she thought they might. One by one the spiders began attacking her, ripping the flesh from her legs.

Once she lost her footing and fell. One of them bit at her arm, but she managed to get up and keep moving.

Finally she saw something other than darkness. At first it was just a pinprick of red light, but as she got closer, she saw it was more like glowing red embers.

Without warning, she was pulled into the light and was completely surrounded by fire, but she wasn’t alone.

Although he had his back to her, there was something familiar about him.

“You are right Laurel. You do know me,” he said in a deep - smooth voice that was nothing like she’d expected.

Even the voice was familiar.

“Who are you?” she asked.

When the being turned around to look at Laurel, her world began to spin.

It was Philippe, but with different eyes. The being was wearing Philippe’s body, but his eyes were completely black. There wasn’t a hint of white there.

“This is a trick!” Laurel choked.

He chuckled, but it wasn’t with humor. His laughter was dark and sadistic. “I had you going … didn’t I, Laurel?”

Fury crept into her heart, chasing away any fear that might have been there. “Where is Marcos?” she hissed.

“Oh he is here … and of course you love my son so much, you are prepared to do whatever it takes to rescue him,” he laughed.

“Yes.”

Philippe motioned towards a gaping black pit surrounded by fire. “Then by all means … show me how much you can love a monster.”

Without hesitation, Laurel stepped into the pit and the murky reality of Hell’s dimension.

When she first saw Marcos, she had no idea who it was she was seeing. The creature looked nothing like the man she loved.

The thing’s body was wrapped in bat-like wings. She did recognize some of Marcos’s features in the creatures face, but there was just a slight resemblance. The creature reminded her of the gargoyles she’d seen in picture books.

The Marcos creature was held captive with chains.

“Marcos!” she cried.

When the creature opened its eyes, she saw hell reflected in pools of darkness.

“Release these chains!”

Laurel hesitated.

What if it was a trick and this thing wasn’t Marcos?

Even worse, what if it was her lover, and he had lost his humanity? What would he do to her?

But then she remembered, he’d always been a part of the demonic, but even in his darkest hour, he’d cared enough to keep her safe.

Stepping up to the creature, she looked into its blank - soulless eyes. “Marcos … I love you,” she told him, brushing his lips with hers.

The transformation was instantaneous. When their lips parted, she was no longer seeing the creature, but the man she would love for eternity.

The chains dropped and he wrapped her in his arms. “I love you angel witch.”

In that instant, the two of them were consumed by an explosion of fire and smoke.