by E. A. Copen
Sir Foxglove gave me a grave nod. “Some time has passed here. A great deal of it. Little Remy is no longer an infant. She has grown.”
The news went into my ears, through my brain and back out without many any sense. That couldn’t be. If she’d grown up without me, who was there when she said her first word or took her first steps? Who patched up her scrapes and bruises when she fell? Who read her bedtime stories and kissed her goodnight, and told her to hit boys back when they hit her first? Who had raised my little girl if I wasn’t there to do it?
A tingling numbness spread from my scalp down through the rest of my body. What if she thought I didn’t want to be there for her? Titania could’ve told her anything. She was so young when the fae took her away, she probably didn’t even remember me. The closest thing she’d have known was Bizarro Laz, who’d hit her. Evisceration was starting to sound too good for him.
“Laz?” Emma stopped next to me, arms crossed.
I walked over to pick up my fallen pipe, glad it was metal and not wood. I had the overwhelming urge to snap something spine-like. A wooden staff wouldn’t be perfect, but it’d be close enough. “Where is she, Foxglove?”
He looked me over. “What are you going to do when you find her?”
“First, I’m going to have words with Titania and remind her what happens to Faerie queens who mess with me. Then I’m going to take her hand and walk her out of there. After that, I’m going to buy my kid an ice cream down on the river walk and talk to her.”
“And if she doesn’t want to go?”
I hadn’t considered that possibility, but Foxglove was right. Titania may have twisted Remy to hate me. Maybe she’d resent me for killing her mother figure, or for not being there. Either way, taking out Titania was the right thing to do. If Titania was in power, Remy would never be safe.
Then Remy would inherit the crown, I thought. Did I really want to thrust that on her? Was that my choice to make? I shook my head. One thing at a time. Titania had to pay. I needed to make sure Remy was okay, even if she wanted nothing to do with me.
I cleared my throat. “I won’t force her to do anything she doesn’t want to do, Foxglove. If what you say is true, she’s been here in Faerie longer than she was on Earth. This is more her home than New Orleans. If she decides to stay, I won’t force her to come with me. The one thing I am going to do though is find my fetch and kill him.”
Foxglove nodded, drew his sword and placed the blade firmly in the wood. “Then you have my sword. I shall take you to your daughter.”
Chapter Nineteen
We stepped through the portal Foxglove made and into the heart of the Quarter. I immediately lifted my vest to shield my face. It was dark and there were crowds everywhere, but I didn’t want to chance getting recognized.
I leaned into Emma. “We need to get off the street.”
She stepped away from me and looked at me like I’d just suggested she cut off her right hand.
I tried to swallow the hurt, but it settled in my gut and refused to move. Of all the ways I could screw things up between us, killing a god to save Remy never even crossed my mind as a possibility. We were over. I could feel it even if she wasn’t saying it. I had crossed a line. To Emma, I was no better than the scum she’d spent her career taking off the streets. A career she’d given up because of me.
The look crossed her face in an instant and disappeared as she regained control of her emotions. Emma turned to the nearest partier walking by with a red plastic cup in his hand and tapped him on the shoulder. “Excuse me, sir. What day is it?”
The skinny young man raised his plastic, star-shaped sunglasses and grinned. “Oh man. I been there. Whatchu need, friend, is another drink!”
Emma forced a false smile. “No thanks. I just need to know the day and time.”
“Your loss, sister.” He pulled out his phone and squinted into the glow of the screen. “Monday, just before midnight.”
Monday. That meant we’d lost an entire day in a handful of hours. I turned to Foxglove.
“The Revel is at dusk tomorrow,” he confirmed. “We have time to prepare. You’ll need to gather any allies and secure more suitable attire.”
I looked down at my clothes. The sliced-up vest and white t-shirt might’ve held up at a street party, but even then, it looked like I’d been through a war zone. “Let me guess. It’s a formal masquerade?”
“You will need a suit,” said Foxglove with a frown. “And the lady will need a dress.”
“Oh, I’m not going.” Emma fidgeted with her fingers, refusing to look at me. “I think it’s time I told my family I was okay. Laz, this has gone too far for me.”
“Emma, Remy needs you.”
Emma shook her head. “No, she doesn’t. This isn’t something I can help with. I...I need some space. Some time to think.”
“Of course.” I tried to sound accommodating, but inside, I was breaking apart. There had to be something I could do to make this right, some way to convince her I’d done the right thing for the right reasons. It would all work out in the end. Couldn’t she see I didn’t have a choice? I had to kill Hades for Remy. I’d have done the same for her. Knowing that just made it hurt worse. This was goodbye, and we both knew it. “I’ll catch up with you after. Let you know we made it out okay.”
She pressed her lips together and nodded, raising a hand to wave. “I’ll just catch an Uber back. See you around.”
Emma walked into the crowd of drunks and disappeared.
I stayed where I was staring after her, my chest aching like I’d been stabbed. No, this hurt worse, the kind of pain no medicine could touch. I’d been stabbed enough times to know.
Foxglove’s hand came down hard on my shoulder, prompting me to flinch. “She will come around.”
I shook my head. “Not this time. I really screwed up, man. But it doesn’t help Remy to focus on it. We need a place to lay low.”
Darius’ place was out. So was my house. Emma’s definitely was. That only left one place in town, someplace I really didn’t want to go considering my current company. I eyed the Summer fae. What the hell? Everything had already gone to shit. What else could go wrong?
“Foxglove,” I said, gripping his shoulder, “Let’s go get a beer.”
PAULA’S SAT DOWN A side street just outside the Quarter. It wasn’t marked by any signs on the street. If you weren’t looking for it, you’d drive right by, which was exactly how Paula liked it. Her bar was a dive with flickering neon in the windows and a run-down exterior. She’d replaced the plate glass window more than once since I’d known her, and the jukebox only worked if you hit it just right with your fist.
I stood outside the bar next to Sir Foxglove in a light misting rain, watching the neon flash. Shadows moved behind the windows in warm light. Even without stepping through the door, I could smell the biting burn of alcohol in the air mixing with chalk, wood polish, and sweat. The break of balls on the pool table, the sudden eruption of laughter from the group of burly men drinking in the corner, the heaviness of Paula’s glare as she stared down the quiet drinker sitting on the edge of the bar... Paula’s was a second home. I just hoped the fact that Paula was fae wouldn’t complicate things. She could bend the rules, but she couldn’t break them.
Nothing to do but swallow my apprehension and try. I had nowhere else to go.
The door handle was cool in my hands, almost icy. I squeezed the latch like the trigger of a gun and pushed the door in. Familiar sounds and scents flooded over me as I stepped in, then ground to a halt when Foxglove ducked in next to me. Chairs creaked as everyone turned to take in the newcomer.
Paula stopped wiping down the bar and slowly reached behind it. When her hand came back up, she was gripping a double barrel shot gun. She placed it firmly on the bar. “I see anyone’s hand go for their phone, he loses it.”
Vince, one of Paula’s regular bouncers grunted at me. “You got a price on your head, Laz. Thirty grand. You shouldn’t be here.”
The crowd didn’t vary much. Every face in the crowd was familiar. I knew their names, their favorite drinks, their troubles. After living above the bar for years, and using the place as my preferred watering hole, the men in there were practically family. Yet I saw anger in their eyes, distrust. Half of them would’ve called to turn me in if Paula hadn’t gotten out the gun. The other half would’ve waited until they could get to a payphone to do it anonymously.
I stepped away from the door, pacing to the center of the bar. “You might’ve heard some things about me. That I was taking people, turning them into zombies, hurting folks. I’ve made no secret over the years about what I can do. Make no mistake, I could’ve done all of that at any time. But I didn’t. You all know me.” I turned so I could address the other side of the room. “Jazz, who was it that helped you with the ghost in your hunting cabin?”
He nodded gravely and replied in a deep voice. “You did.”
I gestured to a thin man with gray braids, a blue bandana, and a long white beard. “Charlie, when the monster in your daughter’s closet turned out to be a ghoul, who helped you move the thing out?”
He lowered his eyes to study his beer.
“And Mariann—” I gestured to a heavyset woman with curly red hair wearing a red plaid overshirt. “When your truck was cursed by a witch, who was it that drove halfway across Louisiana at two in the morning to give you that gris-gris bag?”
Mariann turned away and tucked into her drink.
“If you’re trying to convince us that you’re a good guy again, you should’ve come alone,” Paula said. “I heard you were working for Summer’s nutcase queen again, but I didn’t want to believe it.”
I turned my back to the door and faced Paula. “I’m not working for Summer.”
She nodded to Foxglove. “You’ve got a funny way of proving it, bringing along one of Titania’s generals.”
Foxglove’s armor clinked as he stepped forward. “Lazarus and I share a common goal. We seek to protect the Summer Princess. She was taken against her will by a fetch Titania constructed, a fetch which has committed atrocities wearing the guise of the Pale Horseman.”
Paula’s eyes narrowed. Her fingers tightened around the stock of the shotgun. “You killed friends of mine.”
“I’ve killed and maimed many in battle, m’lady,” Foxglove confirmed. “And I would do it again to defend my home, but I will not cut down another soul for Titania’s madness. Set aside whatever quarrel we may have in the name of future peace, I beg you.”
“Peace?” Paula rolled her eyes and laughed. “Come on now. I don’t give a rat’s ass about war and peace in Faerie mostly. But I like the kid, so I’d offer you help if it were in my power. Unfortunately...” Paula frowned. “I can’t openly help a Summer fae, not when we’re at war. My court would have a hissy fit if they found out. I can’t help you, Laz. And I can’t help your daughter, not without pissing people off. I’m sorry.”
My heart sank. I’d played my last ace and it still wasn’t enough. We’d have to spend the night on the street where we’d be out in the open for Bizarro Laz and his zombies to kill. Not only that, but I had the human authorities to worry about. If there was a bounty on my head, everybody and their brother would be looking to cash in. I’d be in custody by dawn.
“There is another option,” Foxglove said, turning to me. “As one of the Four Horsemen, it is within your power to declare ownership over a space. Such a move would absolve Paula of any wrongdoing in the sight of her court and allow her to freely assist.”
I blinked and looked to Paula. “Is that true?”
She sighed. “Sort of. Technically speaking, you’re on equal footing if not above the Faerie queens, and each of them has a sanctuary space on Earth, a place of power so to speak. Neutral ground where anyone can come to speak to them without fear of death. A sort of courtly space, complete with retainers to fill it. But it’s usually a church or an important shrine, not a bar. It’s supposed to be a place with significance.”
I glanced around. How many hours had I spent drinking myself into a stupor at the bar, listening to Paula tell me to pick myself up by my bootstraps? How many people had I hustled at pool? It was how I’d paid my rent the first three months I lived there. I’d come into the bar bleeding all over only to have Paula patch me up. When a nightmare Titan had been hunting me, Paula’s was the only safe place. I had lived, and laughed, and loved in that building more than any other since getting out of prison. “I can’t think of another place more significant. If you’re not objecting to it, Paula, I’m down.”
“As long as I retain ownership of the building and reserve the right to refuse service for any reason.” She lifted the gun and slid it back behind the counter where it belonged. “But it’s not just something you can do. You need people to have a court, Lazarus.”
I put my hands on my hips and addressed the crowd. “Well? How about it? Who wants to join my court?”
The room was silent.
“Free drinks while court’s in session,” Paula announced.
Every hand in the room suddenly shot up.
I smiled and nodded to Foxglove. “Okay, how do I make it happen?”
He drew a small dagger at his hip and passed it to me. “Call on your power and declare it so. Claim it and these people with your blood and it will be done.”
The dagger felt cold and heavy in my hand. Magic buzzed faintly inside the fae metal, pushing against mine. Power licked at my mental shields, tapping gently on the defenses once, and then crashing hard into them. I winced and drew the dagger through the meat of my palm. Blood raced down my wrist and fell to the floor in fat droplets infused with magic.
“I claim this place in the name of the Pale Horseman. With my blood, and with my power, I make it mine.” I don’t know where the words came from. They flowed out of me on automatic. Though I had never heard them, and never been taught how to use them, it felt like I had been waiting to say them all my life.
The three drops of blood on the floor steamed and crackled. Little flashes of lightning danced between them like one of those novelty balls of electricity that reacted to being touched.
Paula licked her lips. “Again.”
I sucked in a breath, closed my eyes and squeezed my fist. “With my blood and power, I claim this place in the name of the Pale Horseman!”
Lightning jumped from the blood on the floor to bore into my chest. The world flashed in white, hot pain and then went icy cold. I stood, frozen, as the bolt of power crawled over my skin as if making a topographical map. Once it finished with me, the lightning shot away from my body in dozens of tiny arms and struck everyone in the room, Paula and Foxglove included. The explosion of power knocked me from my feet. I flew backward and hit the bar, knocking over two stools on my way down to the floor.
“Ow,” I wheezed once the magic retreated. I could still feel it buzzing around me, pricking at the edge of my consciousness, but at least it was no longer trying to burn my skin off.
I sat up and shook away the cobwebs. Everyone else in the bar was lying draped over a table, or flat on the floor groaning. Everyone except for Foxglove, who had clearly anticipated the shock. He’d gone down to one knee and pushed himself up with a grunt.
“Congratulations,” he said dryly. “The bar is yours.”
“Good.” I pushed myself up on wobbly legs and turned to lean on the bar just as Paula pulled herself up. “Whiskey, Paula. And better make it a double. This is going to be a long night.”
Chapter Twenty
As it turns out, there’s more to claiming a space than just turning it into a safe place to hide while on the lam. I’d forged some kind of magical connection with everyone that was in the bar and felt the weight of it, even when Paula closed the bar and they left. Foxglove said that was why the Faerie queens had knights. They helped shoulder the burden of care.
Whate
ver. All I knew was that all the sudden responsibility was giving me a headache. And I only had fifteen people to look after. I couldn’t imagine what it must’ve been like to bear responsibility for a whole country.
While Paula moved around, putting chairs up on tables and sweeping up, I sat at the bar with Foxglove, staring at the amber remains in the bottom of my glass. I wasn’t drunk, which was a little disappointing. Falling into the bottom of a bottle would’ve been the easy way to cope with suddenly being alone, despite all that new weight.
Foxglove sat next to me with his back to the bar, watching Paula with his predator eyes. I got the feeling the two had history I wasn’t privy to, but I didn’t want to ask. Fae and faekin lived a long time. Long lives could lead to lots of drama and Lord knows I didn’t need any more of that.
I picked up the glass and downed the last of my drink. “So, tell me about her.”
“About the Summer Princess?” Foxglove asked.
I nodded.
He emptied his glass of beer and put it on the bar. A small reflective smile touched his eyes. “She’s strong. A fast learner. Smart with a sharp wit. She perceives more than most her age. The one thing she will never be is a pawn for Titania. The velvet fist has not worked for her.”
Hollow pride pricked at my chest. I hadn’t raised her, but it sounded like she had just enough of my stubbornness in her to keep her from being totally brainwashed. Even if she wanted nothing to do with me, that would be good enough for me.
Foxglove spun his stool around to lean on the bar. “She’s still young and foolish sometimes, but she will make a great queen someday.”
“Yeah.” My throat was suddenly too dry. I reached across the bar and grabbed the first bottle I found, refilling both our glasses. “Maybe it’s selfish of me, but I don’t want her to be a queen. I never wanted her to be a princess. I just wanted her to be a little girl, you know? Her biggest problems growing up should’ve been learning to put on her makeup and fighting with me about curfews.”
