by E. A. Copen
I stepped around the circle so I could face him. “Yeah. God destroyed the two cities because they were sinful. Fire and brimstone. All that.”
“They were kingdoms, not cities, and there were four destroyed, not two. Everyone always gets that wrong.” He sighed. “But the other thing, the reason those four kingdoms were struck from existence, had very little to do with traditional sins and everything to do with angels. You see, some were sent to Earth to watch, and rather than do as they were told, they fathered children with human women, and taught them secrets. Forbidden magic, Lazarus. The kind that could unravel reality in the wrong hands. The destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah was a tactical strike by Heaven to ensure the survival of the rest of humanity, wiping from existence all that forbidden knowledge.” He smirked. “Well, most of it. What remains is fragmented. Imagine though the things we might know if the bastard upstairs hadn’t been so greedy with his knowledge.”
“Well if it turns people inside out, it’s probably for the best,” I said. “We going to do this or what?”
“Step into the circle.”
I did as he instructed.
Josiah inhaled, cut his thumb, and closed the circle. “I’m going to teach you a word. If you survive learning it, you’ll be able to do the rest of this.”
Survive learning a word? That was ominous. I knew there were magic words in the world, a secret language of spells, the usage of which was usually passed from generation to generation in prestigious wizard families. I’d always figured it was just another form of magic, not anything deadly, though that made sense. There was a reason they were called spells.
Words have a lot of power. Use the right word at the right time and you can change someone’s life for the better. Utter the wrong words to the wrong people and you’ll snuff out life as we know it. That was just life. Add magic to the mix and words were exponentially more powerful. A promise could be mortally binding, for example.
I didn’t know any of these secret words. My family didn’t trace its lineage back to any of those prestigious wizards. I was a simple necromancer turned Pale Horseman, just trying to make it in a god-eat-guy world.
“Are you ready?” Josiah asked.
I wasn’t, but I nodded anyway.
Josiah spoke a single word. Though I heard it, I couldn’t wrap my mind around the sound of it. It was too complicated, both audible and silent, but laced with magic.
Power spun out of his mouth like a hurricane, knocking me back to the edge of the circle. Magic drilled into my head, burning, tearing, threatening to rip me apart from the inside out. My brain felt like I had snorted steel wool. The magic rubbed raw against the inside of my skull, flowing like water, and burrowing into my spine.
It was as if I had dropped the electric ball of magic on its highest setting, only worse.
I have to get control or I’m dead. Somehow, I had to, though I didn’t know how. How do you control a word? I didn’t know anything about it.
But I did know how to control magic.
I reached for it, the same way I would’ve reached for other magic. It slipped through my grasp like sand the first time, but I grabbed the tiniest thread on the second attempt. The silky thin power snapped into something rigid and hard as steel, buzzing in my head. The pain stopped flowing through my body and settled in my head where it pulsed.
I sank to my knees, grasping my splitting head and trembling. My breath came in panicked rasps. I couldn’t hold onto the power forever. If I didn’t get it out of me and fast, my head might explode.
“Zacar!” The word exploded out of my mouth without any direction from me. It was as if it had come alive and willed itself into existence all on its own.
I doubled over and collapsed with my cheek resting against the cool floor at Josiah’s feet. Every breath coming out of my lungs burned, and my head ached, but at least I was alive to feel the pain. “Did anybody get the number on the chocobo that ran me over?”
“What the fuck’s a chocobo?” Josiah’s lighter clicked.
“Never mind.” I rolled onto my back and stared up at him. If I thought the rest of my body would cooperate, I’d have tried to stand. “Please tell me it doesn’t do that every time.”
He puffed on his cigarette a few times before flipping the lighter closed and pocketing it. “Sorry, mate.”
“Figured as much.”
Josiah stepped over me and broke the circle. “You handled it pretty well. The more times you use it, the more used to it you’ll get. It’ll never get less dangerous though, so careful with it, yeah?”
I finally pulled myself up and rested my arms on my knees. “What if I can’t do this, Josiah? What if... What if I can’t get there in time for both of them?”
“Then you’re human.” He shrugged and sat on the sofa. “People fail. You might have more power than most, but that doesn’t mean you’re perfect, mate.”
“But Loki could hurt Emma. Or Titania might destroy my daughter. How am I supposed to live with either of those outcomes?” I nodded to him. “How do you live with making choices like that? With not saving some people?”
He stared down at his cigarette, burning a long column of white ash. “I tell myself there are just some people you can’t save. People that don’t want to be saved. People that God, the universe, karma or anyone has just decided to fuck with and nothing I did or didn’t do could’ve changed that.”
“And does that work?”
“Sometimes.”
Somehow, I didn’t find that very encouraging.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Josiah left and I got to work. Waiting until Loki’s masquerade would be the easiest way to find Emma, but it wasn’t my only option. If I could get to her before then, I wouldn’t need to use the dangerous brain-eating spell and everything would be easier.
Unfortunately, looking up the Krewe of Loki didn’t give me any results. I could find that they existed, but not where their masquerade was supposed to be. They didn’t have a parade route posted, so maybe they didn’t have one. Not every krewe did. There was no member roster, no contact information... Not even an updated listing for them going back several years, which meant they didn’t register with the city.
I closed the borrowed laptop and sighed, leaning back in the recliner and rubbing my eyes. Doing all that research on no sleep was getting to me, but I couldn’t afford to rest now. I still had too much to do. There were people I could talk to, ask them about Loki’s party.
Not that knowing where the party was would do me much good. There were no guarantees that’s where Emma was being held. Loki could’ve moved her into a pocket dimension, or anywhere in the city. The only way I’d find out beforehand would be to find a Valkyrie and question her, but I didn’t think I could beat one in a fight. I might be able to sneak up on one and hit her with a knockout spell, but then what? Torture her for information? I wasn’t that kind of guy. It just wasn’t in me.
Maybe I should talk to The Baron. He might know. I’d have to talk to him anyway, since I’d need a suit to wear to the masquerade. Somehow, I didn’t think just showing up at Adelard’s would be a good idea. He’d probably turn me away.
I got up and went downstairs to the bar. It was too early for Paula to be in, but she wouldn’t mind if I borrowed a little rum. I slid back behind the bar and poured two glasses. Normally, I’d grab a cigar, do some chanting, and hope for the best to get Baron Samedi to show up, but as a wanted man, I didn’t want to be walking into any gas stations. People would be on the lookout for me. Thirty grand was a lot of money to people in New Orleans, a year’s wages or more for most. They’d turn me in without a second thought.
Instead, I sat the glasses down on the bar and said his name three times. To draw a supernatural entity’s attention, the best way is to speak their name. Do it three times, and it was as good as summoning them, though they weren’t obligated to show. Had I done the ritual, he’d be all but forced to make an appearance. Saying his name three time was more like tappi
ng him on the shoulder. He didn’t have to turn around, but he’d be really annoyed.
Nothing happened. I sighed and turned my back to the bar to search the shelves. Maybe I needed a better rum.
“Are you ever going to get the ritual right or should I just give up?” said Samedi behind me.
“Depends.” I turned back to him. “You ever going to pay me what I’m worth?”
Samedi snorted and lifted the shot, downing it. “What do you want?”
I explained the situation to him. It was likely he knew most of it already, but one couldn’t assume anything when dealing with a Loa like Samedi. Sometimes, they liked it when you spelled things out for them.
He rolled his eyes when I asked him if he knew where Emma was. “Ms. Knight isn’t my responsibility, Lazarus. I warned you not to get involved with her.”
I put my hands on the bar and leaned in. “It’s not right to let Loki jerk me around, Samedi.”
“No, it’s not. If ever he were to get leverage over you, enough to force your hand, that would mean you were compromised as a Horseman, and therefore ineffective. I would have to kill you.” He picked up the second shot of rum and studied it for a moment. “You know, no one has heard from Hades since yesterday morning. You wouldn’t know what happened with him, would you?”
I swallowed. “No idea where he is.”
He nodded and tossed back the drink. “Funny thing is, Persephone said the same thing. She’s his wife. You’d think a wife would know the whereabouts of her husband.”
“Does Brigette know you’re here?”
Samedi shrugged. “Good point. Still, if I had disappeared for an entire day without warning, Brigette would be more distraught than Persephone seems to be.” His stool creaked as he leaned forward. “I don’t know exactly what is going on with you, boy, but I know you’re skirting a line. It’s written all over your face. I like you. Don’t make me kill you.”
“Kill me.” I forced myself to chuckle. “And how would you do that?”
“I would strip the mantle from you, hand it to someone else, and order him to hunt you down.”
I froze halfway through pouring myself a drink. The casual way Samedi said it worried me. It meant he’d done it before and would do it again without a second thought. I had to be careful not to let him find out what I was up to with those names on Loki’s list.
I finished filling the glass and set the bottle aside. “Emma’s an important person. Friends with a lot of powerful people. Not just me, Samedi. You know her partner’s an angel. If something were to happen to her, it could be bad.”
He sighed. “I can look for her, but I make no promises about finding her.”
“That’s all I ask,” I said nodding. “On an unrelated note, I’m going to need a suit. I’m going to Titania’s masquerade tonight.”
“To rescue your daughter, no doubt.”
“Am I supposed to just ignore it when someone starts hurting the people I love?”
“You accept it as the cost of doing business and you deal with it. But none of this would be a problem if you were following the rules, Lazarus. You cannot do your job effectively with all of these helpless humans around you. Your job is not to protect them. It’s to maintain the balance between gods and mortals.”
“What about Remy and Emma? They’re mortals.”
The Baron slammed his cane into the floor and stood, towering over me. “What happens to them is inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, Lazarus! Emma is one human woman, and Remy... It would have been better for everyone if she had not survived! Her very existence is an imbalance. But you can’t think of things in those terms, can you? You’re too selfish. Perhaps I was wrong to bestow the mantle upon you.” He tilted his head back and stared down his nose at me. “Perhaps it’s time I took it back.”
My fingers closed into fists. I stared at them on the bar, willing them to stay still instead of punching him in the jaw. He’d strip my power for sure if I did, and I couldn’t afford to let that happen. Without my Horsemen powers, I was helpless to save Emma and Remy.
I clenched my teeth. “If Loki has his revenge, there will be an imbalance. If Titania is allowed to use Remy like a weapon—as I’m certain she intends to—there will be an imbalance. Saving both of them is the only way to do my job, regardless of the fact that it’s personal.”
Samedi frowned. “After you save them, then what? What’s to stop someone else from doing this again?”
“I am,” I said, pushing myself up to stand straight. “Once this is done, you won’t have to worry about Emma being a potential weakness anymore.”
“You’re going to break things off with her?” He raised an expectant eyebrow.
My throat was suddenly dry. I picked up the glass and drained it before turning it upside down on the bar. “Yes, I will.”
He planted both hands on his cane. “And what about your daughter?”
“I can’t let what Titania did go unanswered. She has to pay for kidnapping Remy and making a fetch of me. When I’m finished with her, no one will want to repeat what she did. They’ll look at her and be reminded not to fuck with me, or any other Horseman. That much, I promise you.”
Samedi nodded. “There are some suits waiting for you at Adelard’s. After he took your measurements last time, I took the liberty of having several prepared for you to pick up at your convenience. No cost to you. You need only show up and pick out which one you would like.” He placed his top hat on his head.
“Just one more question, Samedi, if you don’t mind.”
He gestured for me to continue.
I cleared my throat. This would be a delicate question. “My fetch said he could also see and interact with souls. Claimed he also had the Pale Horseman mantle. How is that possible? We can’t both be the Pale Horseman, can we?”
“A shade, a ghost, and a zombie can all be made of one man,” he said with a shrug. “But none of them are the man. They’re all pieces of a whole. There is only one Pale Horseman mantle, Lazarus, but it is possible that it was split in two during the creation of the fetch. It would explain why you didn’t retain the knowledge of your predecessors.”
“Wait, are you saying the Pale Horseman mantle does more?”
“I’m saying you were meant to do more than slay misbehaving gods, Lazarus. Your place, your destiny, is much greater. I don’t know that killing your fetch will have any effect on your powers. Perhaps it will. Perhaps it won’t. All I’m saying is that it’s possible. With magic and mantles, there is a lot even I don’t understand.” The Baron ran a finger along the brim of his hat. “I wish you luck, but I’m not holding my breath either.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I mumbled and turned away to put up the bottle. When I turned back, he was gone.
Chapter Twenty-Five
I found a paper plate, duct tape, and streamers, and made myself a mask. It wasn’t pretty, but then neither was I, so it fit. With the mask on, I hoped no one would recognize me so I could go out. It’d worked the first time well enough, though Khaleda recognized me. I just hoped no one else I’d run into knew me well enough to recognize the sound of my voice.
With the mask on, I used the bar phone to call a cab. I didn’t have any money, so I borrowed a little from Paula’s safe, which wasn’t that hard to crack. In place of the twenty I took, I left a note telling her it had been transferred into the court treasury. She’d be pissed when she found it, but I’d pay her back with interest once Baron Samedi paid me.
My ride was a little white Ford sedan decked out for Mardi Gras with purple, gold, and green streamers. About twenty strings of beads hung from the rear-view mirror. The driver was a twenty-something college kid with a cat on his t-shirt along with the words SHOW ME YOUR KITTIES.
I slid into the back. The cab smelled like stale beer, feet, and old Skittles.
“Where to, Mister?” he asked, adjusting his mirror.
“Quarter. How close can you get me to Bourbon Street?”
<
br /> He shook his head. “Gonna be a walk. Quarter’s rough ’cause of all the partyin’.”
“Just get me as close as you can.”
On the cab ride to the Quarter, we passed roving mobs of drunken partiers. The closer we got, the bigger the mobs became until it was all just one massive clog of people on all sides of the car. We were still a couple blocks from Bourbon Street proper, but we were as close as we would get in a car. I’d have to walk the rest of the way.
“Thanks, man,” I said and slid him the twenty.
“You want my advice?” said the cabbie, taking my money. “I wouldn’t be in the Quarter once the sun goes down. Too crowded. Ain’t no fun when you can’t move your arms.”
He’d mistaken me for a tourist. Guess I had overpaid him to take me to the biggest tourist trap in the city. I should’ve been insulted. Instead I flashed him a grin and a friendly nod before climbing out of the car.
The crowd immediately swept me away. People moved almost as a solid mass, shouting to their friends several yards ahead. Occasionally, someone would let out a scream. Not a panicked scream, but the kind drunk partygoers thought everyone else wanted to hear. Someone else would inevitably answer with a scream of their own until a whole bunch of them would get going and leave my ears ringing.
We flowed toward Bourbon Street at a snail’s pace. Too many people were stopping, talking to other people, for me to make good time. Every once in a while, someone would elbow me, push me, or step on my foot. I got beer spilled on me twice and invited to six parties.
A few streets up, one of the bigger krewes was putting on their annual parade, blocking progress. Pretty girls leaned over the balconies above shouting, “Throw me something, Mister,” at passersby and flashing people. Tourists stopped to grin, elbow each other and ogle the show.
I pushed on by and slid down a side street. The bead throws, drinking, and flashing had long ago worn off its novelty for me. Besides, if you knew the right places to go, you could get a way better show on the right night without a bunch of drunk tourists blocking the way.
