by E. A. Copen
“I don’t want to kill him,” I said, crossing my arms. “I guess that doesn’t matter. No matter what I do, Loki is always one step ahead of me, always got something on me to make me dance to his tune. I wouldn’t put it past him to be behind Remy’s kidnapping, at least in part. How am I going to beat this guy?”
Josiah shrugged. “He’s a god, right? How would you kill any other god?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Yes, it is.” He pushed himself up off the floor. “Killing Loki is easy. The hard part is shielding those you love from the fallout in the meantime and preserving who you are. I know Hades is your friend. These other names he gives you might be too. What you’ve got to decide is which thing means more to you: friendship or family. Doing the right thing, or survival. You can’t always have both.”
I shook my head and focused on the computer Emma had set aside. “It’s so easy for you, isn’t it? Just do it. Whatever it takes. I’m not like you.”
Josiah crossed the room and put a hand on my shoulder. “You don’t want to be like me, Laz.”
He was right. Josiah was an unapologetic, cold-hearted bastard with no friends. He’d never change either. Forever alone, no matter what it cost him. I couldn’t do that. I needed Remy, needed Emma. Without having them around, I didn’t feel whole anymore.
“There might be something I can do,” Josiah said, withdrawing his hand. “But it’s risky, and it’s going to require you to do something...deceptive.”
“I can lie.”
“Can you lie to Emma?”
I turned away.
“I’m not the only person you have a pact with, then. Figured as much. You want to end this? Save the world and everyone in it? Then you’re going to need to be willing to get your hands dirty. You’re going to hurt people, Lazarus, those close to you most.”
“Just tell me what to do.” I met Josiah’s stormy gray eyes with a hard gaze of my own. He thought I wasn’t willing to do the work. I could see it in his face. Well, he was wrong. Dead wrong. I’d do whatever it took to stop Loki, but I wasn’t going to sacrifice Remy and Emma to do it.
Josiah’s expression softened. He shook his head. “No. You’re not ready to hear it.”
“You’re going to tell me to break things off with Emma and forget about Remy.”
“Yes.”
I made a fist. “I can’t do that.”
“Then you don’t want to win bad enough. A man with everything to lose is no threat to a tyrant god with no morals.” He pulled a fresh pack of cigarettes from his pocket and tapped one out into his palm before turning to walk away. “When you’re ready, you give me a call.”
“Josiah!” I called after him once he’d pulled open the door. “You’re not leaving yet, are you? I mean, Bizarro Me is still out there.”
Josiah’s hand slid down the door, but he didn’t turn back around. “You don’t need me for that, mate. With angels about, I think it’s better if we lie low until you figure out how to get them off my back. You’ve got my number. Call me when you need me and I’ll be there once that’s done, but until then?” He shook his head. “Sorry, mate. It’s business.”
“I understand.”
Josiah nodded and left, pulling the door closed behind him.
I deflated with a sigh and sank to my ass. Guess I’ll do this on my own, I thought, and pulled the laptop back into my lap.
Chapter Twelve
A brass band marched down the street outside, cymbals crashing and horns blaring. Onlookers poured from the nearby shops and houses to watch the brightly colored musicians pass. Behind the band came a float with metallic green, gold, and purple streamers. The front of the float had been made up to look like a purple dragon with plastic beads hanging from its mouth. Steam poured from its nostrils, and the dragon riders on the float spewed sweet smelling smoke from their vaping devices at the crowds.
It was Sunday evening before Mardi Gras, which meant the partying in the Quarter would reach a fever pitch pretty soon. Tourists would cram onto Bourbon Street, flashing people for beads and doubloons. Strangers would gather, mistaking drunkenness for comradery, and the raucous partying for a true representation of what the date marked.
The parade passing outside the house was one of many small events that’d be going on all over the city. Groups called krewes spent months putting together their displays and marching them proudly through the streets. There were hundreds of krewes, each with a specific theme from science fiction to women’s rights. Most krewes ended their parade by holding a big party at some pre-determined location. Sometimes a masquerade, and sometimes just a less formal gathering with lots of food, booze, and laughter.
And most of them were named after gods for a reason.
Modern-day gods didn’t derive power from the worshippers in temples like in the olden days. Instead, they thrived on other types of celebrations of their namesake, and no celebration was bigger than Mardi Gras in New Orleans. They had only to show up and drink in the praise. Gods like Bacchus—the Greek god of wine and revelry—probably got a big boost that time of year. Yet there were other, smaller krewes named after just about every god you could imagine, Hades included.
It took me three hours to realize he’d probably be at the revel held by the Krewe of Hades. All I had to do was find out where they were holding their event and get an invite. Not an easy task, I might add. It was a closed party, invite only, and security would probably be tight. Just sneaking in would be out of the question, which meant I needed an official invitation.
While I was working on how to get one, Emma and Nate spent the afternoon poring over mythology books and notes, trying to figure out what Bizarro Laz really was. So far, the only thing they’d come up with was that he might be a doppelganger, but I didn’t think that fit. Doppelgangers were non-biologically connected to whatever person they were supposed to be a double of. The tracking spell I’d used took me right to Bizarro Laz, which meant his DNA was at least strikingly similar to mine, unlikely if he were a construction like a doppelganger.
I leaned on one arm, staring out the window at the passing band. “Do you guys know anyone in the Krewe of Hades?”
Nate looked up from the book he was reading and pushed up his glasses. “Never heard of that one.”
Figures. It wasn’t a very big or well-known krewe. Guess I could always just show up at the party and demand to be let in, a risky move considering the cops were out looking for me. Being wanted sucked. That was only a possibility if I knew where they were holding their revel, but that information wasn’t available publicly. Baron Samedi might know, but if I called him up, he’d want to know why I wanted to talk to Hades.
I have bigger problems than the Baron, I thought, looking at Emma. She was chewing her fingernails again. Slipping out without anyone noticing wasn’t going to be easy. Dammit, why did my clone have to be evil? I would’ve loved to be two places at once.
Emma stood up straighter and put her hands on her hips. “I think I’ve got it. It’s a fetch.”
I groaned and pushed away from the window. “Doesn’t matter what it is. It’s ruining my life while I’m stuck here, hiding because the stupid police think I’m a monster. I should be out there, running down leads.”
Emma shot me a warning glare. “You go out there, you’ll get yourself arrested or worse, and I’m not breaking you out.”
Darius knocked on the door. He was dressed in the most ridiculous sequined green suit with purple and gold stripes. More important, he had a stack of paper plates in one hand and a big white box tucked under his arm. “How’s it goin’, Magic Man?” He held up the box. “Thought you could use some fuel.”
Darius walked into the room and put the box down on the cot before flipping it open, revealing an oval shaped pastry with colored icing—purple, gold, and green, just like everything else during Mardi Gras. A King Cake, a Mardi Gras tradition.
My chest ached looking at the thing. I’d been looking forward to sharing a piece
with Remy all year. Seeing it just made me miss her more.
That’s it. I can’t just hide up here anymore. I need to do something. While everyone else was gathered around the cake, watching Darius cut it, I snapped up one of the paper plates and one of the green highlighters Emma had been using on the book she was working on. I ripped a few pieces off the plate and then set to coloring it lime green.
“You okay?” Emma asked.
In response, I lifted the quick mask I’d made and made it rest on my nose. “What do you think?”
Emma pulled the paper mask away. “I think I’ve seen better masks in the toy aisle. That’s not going to get you down the street without someone recognizing your face.”
“If you want a mask, I got a few extra.” Darius thrust his thumb toward the door. “Marcelle, go get Lazarus a mask.”
“Why do you need a mask?” Nate asked, poking through his cake with a frown.
“You’re not thinking of going out.” Emma tilted her head and gave me a look that said she’d kick my ass if I gave the wrong answer.
I sighed. “I’m going crazy here, Emma. I need to do something. I can’t stay cooped up in a room that smells like sweaty gym socks in a porn shop. No offense, Darius.”
He shrugged and shoved a forkful of colorful cake into his mouth. “Bleach only cleans so much, you know?”
“Besides,” I continued, “we’re not going to find a way into Faerie from here.”
“Why don’t you just ask Paula?” Everyone in the room stared at Nate. He shrugged. “She’s fae, right? Or part fae?”
“She’s Shadow fae, which means she’s the one type of fae that hates me more than Summer. Or her people do.” I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose to try and ward off the headache. “She won’t help for free either, and if I show up at the bar, she might get in trouble with the authorities. They might even be watching the place.”
Emma crossed cut off a big piece of the cake with the side of her fork. “You think she’d let a bunch of cops hang out there and scare off her clientele?”
An idea came to me; a devious one, sure, but it’d keep Emma off my back long enough for me to track down Hades and do what I needed to do. “Tell you what, Em. Why don’t you and Nate go to Paula’s? There’ll be less trouble if they spot you two. Just make sure you don’t accept any gifts or strike any deals with her without talking to me first.”
Nate and Emma exchanged a glance. “And what will you be doing while we do that?” Nate asked.
Marcelle returned holding out a gold and black checkered mask with green and purple feathers. It had a bird’s beak to cover my nose and wings that would stretch all the way back to my ears.
I took the mask and affixed it to my face. “I’m going to see if I can conjure up some help.”
“Clever.” Emma rolled her eyes and put the cake in her mouth only to wince when she bit down. She turned away and spat a tiny plastic baby figurine into her hand.
“Ha!” Darius pointed at her and grinned before picking up a plastic crown sitting on the table that he sat on her head. “Now you have to buy the next one!”
Emma frowned up at the crown. “You know that’s bad luck, right?”
“Queen for a day is good luck, cha!” I imitated a deeper accent and leaned in to plant a kiss on her cheek. “You’re still the Queen of Thorns where it counts, baby.”
She punched me in the side hard enough that it hurt.
Chapter Thirteen
Put on a mask, pick up a string of colored plastic beads and walk down the street with an open bottle of liquor any other week and people will think you’re a nutcase. During Mardi Gras in New Orleans, the normally dressed folks were the odd ones out.
I left the mansion in a borrowed t-shirt, a black leather vest (also borrowed), and my mask. Darius promised to send me a bill, both for putting me up for almost a week, and any damage I did to the borrowed clothing.
A bunch of people were milling around in the street after the parade passed, moving like a blob to follow them down the street. I joined them for a short while and turned down a side street. To find the Hades Krewe, I’d have to ask around, and it was too early in the afternoon for roving groups of drunks. That meant my best bet was to talk to someone official, something I never would’ve risked if I weren’t in a mask.
The krewe parades started all the way back in January and they’d run until late on Fat Tuesday itself. Sometimes, there were three or four in a day. Those local to New Orleans knew the days leading up to Mardi Gras were a lot more fun than Tuesday, partly because drunk tourists clogged up the streets in the Quarter. The city kept an official schedule for which krewe went marching where, and the Krewe of Hades was supposed to be marching that afternoon. That meant their revel would be sometime after dark, but the city didn’t publish that information.
I figured if I could make my way to where the Krewe of Hades parade was supposed to start, I could grab someone in the know and schmooze my way into an invite. Why not? It was Mardi Gras. People were more open during Carnival. Let the good times roll and all that.
Anyway, I wandered over to the nearest street car and hopped a ride uptown to get off at Birch Street. A yard sign with the words PARADE REG printed on them pointed me further down Birch to an elementary school parking lot where several floats waited. Fire dancers spun off to my right while another guy juggled flaming sticks. A muscular man in a white sheet wearing a wreath on his head moved around the largest float draping colored glass beads. I decided it was less dangerous to talk to him than the people playing with fire.
I stopped in front of the float and put a hand over my eyes to block out the sun. “Any idea where I can find the guy in charge?”
He stopped messing with the beads and gave me a funny look. “Parade’s full and you’re not getting into the ball unless you’ve got an invite, so don’t ask.”
Hardass. Okay, at least I could work with that. Not like he was the first of his kind. “Look, I just want to talk to my friend, so if you could point me in his direction, I’ll get out of your hair.”
“He’s with me, Roy.”
Khaleda strode out from behind another float. She’d slipped into a skin-tight, cherry red zippered cat suit. A pair of fabric red horns poked up from her head and a matching tail swishing behind her. She paused a few feet from me and set down the matching pitchfork.
I tried to roll my tongue back into my mouth. “Uh, yeah. I’m with her.”
“Whatever.” Roy snorted and went back to work.
“Didn’t expect to see you here, Khaleda.”
She smirked. “Devilry, debauchery, and drink. I’m Lucifer Morningstar’s daughter. Should I be somewhere else?”
“Guess not.”
“Question is what are you doing here?” She sized me up as if she were at the meat counter picking out a pork chop. “You were dead.”
I shrugged. “I got better.”
Khaleda sighed and rolled her eyes. “I’m working. Josiah says I should be securing alliances. Called this a show of good faith.”
More like a giant middle finger to the angels, I thought, taking in the devil outfit. He’d wanted to fade out of the public eye, but Josiah was more than happy to thrust Khaleda into it. What was his game? Either way, it felt like he was making a statement. Khaleda wasn’t stupid. She must’ve seen it.
Not that it mattered, not if Hades was going to be dead by the end of the day. I almost walked away right then. Be cool, Laz. Your daughter’s life is on the line. It’s Hades or Remy. “You’re going to the ball? You got your plus one figured out?”
“Why?” She squinted. “Whatever you’re selling, I’m not interested.” She turned her back to me and started to walk away.
I caught her wrist. “Hey, wait a minute.”
The last word didn’t quite make it out of my mouth before she picked up her heel and jammed it into my gut. All the air went out of me and I was on the ground, wheezing before I could process what had happened.
“Lazarus? Jesus.” She knelt next to me.
“Yeah,” I wheezed, “who were you expecting?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you... just eviller? Dammit, if I thought it was really you...” She grabbed my arm and helped me to my feet.
I stood but quickly bent over, cradling my aching stomach. “Been getting that a lot lately. So, about that plus one?”
Khaleda sighed through her nose. “I’m going with Josiah. Why? Wait, does he know you’re awake?”
He knew where Hades was going to be, I realized. Josiah could’ve gotten me in but didn’t even offer. That ass. Why didn’t he mention it? Maybe he didn’t want to help me. Shit, what if... “Khaleda, why are you here?”
“I told you.”
“No, I mean why this krewe?”
She stared at me like I’d lost my mind before crossing her arms over her chest. I was surprised the latex didn’t tear under strain. “We needed work. The assholes who roped us into working for them, Manus Dei, they don’t exactly pay well. Cigarettes, booze, and hotels are expensive. Josiah may have dropped your name to get a job working security at the ball tonight.”
And I’d just told him I’d be coming to kill Hades.
Oh, shit.
I took a deep breath. Keep it together. Khaleda obviously doesn’t know. He hasn’t had time to tell her yet. If I got to Hades before the ball, before Josiah had the chance to tell Khaleda what I was supposed to do, then I stood a chance. I knew I couldn’t take Josiah in a fight, at least not when it came to magic. No, I had to kill him now.
“Khaleda, where is Hades now?” I did my best to keep my tone measured and even.
Her eyes scanned me slowly. She was suspicious because my voice was tight when I asked her why she was there. I had to put her fears at ease. Proving I was the real me and not Bizarro Laz might help, except I didn’t know how to do that either.
“Hades is in danger,” I told her. “Loki hired someone to kill him. I need to see him.”
