Dark Horse

by E. A. Copen

  “I told her as much, to which she responded that she would be happy to give you your pick of the dungeons if only you’d come in person.” Foxglove gave me a sideways glance, one eyebrow raised. He was waiting to see how I’d respond to Remy’s attempt at manipulating the situation.

  She was my kid, which left me with a soft spot for her. I’d do a handstand in a hurricane for her. She should’ve known she didn’t need to scheme and bargain to get what she wanted from me. Except she’d been raised in Faerie by one of the most conniving bitches I’d ever met. Titania had instilled in my little girl the courtly arts of coercion, backstabbing, and veiled threats. Remy also didn’t know me very well. Three months of Fridays hadn’t been enough to fix that yet.

  I frowned. “She doesn’t think I’d come.”

  Foxglove shrugged. “She’s dealing with you as she would any noble of an allied court. Our alliance is young and hasn’t been tested. In Faerie, kinship bonds aren’t as treasured as they are here. Longevity ensures that parent-child bonds are brief in the grand scheme of things, marriages mere contracts of decades. But alliances can be for centuries and must be fostered. Try not to take offense.”

  I let out a frustrated growl and propped my elbows on the bar, rubbing my temples. Just once, couldn’t something be easy and simple? “Okay, I can make a short trip, but it has to be short. No fanfare. No banquets or bowing.”

  “Excellent. I’ll send word that we’ll travel just after dusk tomorrow. That should ensure that we return before dawn so long as we’re not delayed by unexpected circumstances.”

  “There are always unexpected circumstances,” I grumbled.

  Paula popped the top on a brown bottle and placed it in front of me.

  I took it, thankful for the opportunity to hold anything cold, and turned to Emma. “You want something?”

  Emma opened her mouth.

  “I don’t serve Valkyries here,” Paula cut in.

  I turned around and glared at Paula. “She’s on our side.”

  Paula stood up and crossed her arms. “For now, but you and I both know she’s going to stab you in the back eventually. It’s what Loki’s people do. She’s one of ’em now. Just because I have to put up with having her in my bar doesn’t mean I have to encourage it.” She pointed to a sign hanging behind the bar that read, MANAGEMENT RESERVES THE RIGHT TO REFUSE SERVICE.

  “Overruled.” I held the beer out to Emma. “At least while I’m here.”

  Emma looked at the beer, at Paula, frowned, and then took it.

  The people behind us finished arranging the room the way it normally was when I arrived. All the tables had been pushed to one side and stacked one atop the other. As for the chairs, those sat in neat lines eight across with an aisle in the center if I had to call someone up to speak.

  My throne was a rolling office chair I’d gotten second-hand at a garage sale. The red upholstery had seen better days, and the wheels squeaked a lot when I rolled it around, but it was good enough for me.

  Everyone who’d decided to stay—and that was most of the crowd—milled around near the seats, waiting for the session to begin.

  Foxglove banged his fist against the bar three times. “Call to order! The Court of Miracles is in session. All attend King Lazarus.”

  Folks found their seats while I got down from the bar stool and plopped my exhausted ass in a chair that was only slightly more comfortable to address my court. I scanned the faces in front of me, eager for news and direction. There were humans among the people of my court, but that wasn’t precisely what made the Court of Miracles unique. Unlike Summer, Winter, Shadow, and Light, I offered a place in my court to anyone willing to swear the oath. The last time I’d been in Summer with Remy, I heard someone derisively call it a court of second chances. Well, that was okay with me. Everyone deserved a second chance.

  Adelard, the tailor, and his wife were in attendance. The old goblin had neglected a glamor, but he could get away with not bothering and just look like the crotchety old soul he was. His wife, however, had four arms, four legs, and spun silk outside of her glamor. Now she looked like Old Mother Hubbard with her white hair, knitting, and rosy cheeks. The two of them couldn’t use glamor before they were part of a court. My promise that they’d get it if they joined my court hadn’t made Remy happy when I negotiated for the import, but she made the concession. I supposed the least I could do was travel to Faerie to see her.

  Emma stopped beside my chair. I thought for a moment she would stay up front with me, which wouldn’t go over well with the locals. Instead, she placed a hand on my arm, offered a reassuring nod, and walked to prop up a corner of the bar near the stacked tables.

  There was probably some formal way the other courts opened things, but I didn’t know it, so I just talked to people the way I’d address any other crowd. “So, you’ve probably heard some things over the last few days. First thing I want to do is set the record straight. I’m not working for Loki.”

  A murmur rose in a wave across the crowd.

  I held my hands up in a gesture to quiet them and raised my voice. “There’s a Titan headed this way and I need help to stop it. Because our goals temporarily align, that goal being stopping the Titan from killing us all, Loki and I have an agreement. I scratch his back, he gets off mine.”

  “How is that different?” someone in the back called.

  “If I were working for him, I’d get paid, first of all, and probably a lot more help.” That drew several snickers from around the room, but not as many as I’d hoped. “Second, the agreement doesn’t place me in debt to him, or anyone else for that matter. You can rest assured that the Court of Miracles will stay as it’s always been, independent.”

  That was their real concern. Most fae that stayed on Earth did so because they didn’t like dealing with Faerie politics and moody monarchs. They’d joined with me only because I’d promised them something different, and I had to prove that I meant it. If they suspected I was just a puppet for another court, or a god, they’d bail.

  I straightened in my seat. “Now that that’s settled, does anyone have any other business?”

  Over the next hour, I sat through several petitions. A few of the fae asked for me to negotiate an increase in the glamor trade with Remy, but I couldn’t make any promises. Two neighbors came forward with a property dispute, which shouldn’t have been an issue except there was some magical tree that’d sprouted on the property line and they both wanted to claim it. I told them they should share the damn thing like adults and moved on. Sometimes, running a court was a lot like being a kindergarten teacher. It felt like I spent way too much time telling people to share their toys and talk nice to each other.

  By the end of the session, I was even more irritated and exhausted than before. Paula popped the top on another beer and held it out to me while the bar emptied behind us. I picked it up and gulped half of it before setting it back down. I really wanted to crawl into the bottom of a whiskey bottle and stay there for a bit, but there was too much to do. I had to set aside whatever I wanted for the greater good. Being the good guy sucked.

  Foxglove took the seat next to me. “You didn’t ask for a volunteer.”

  I shook my head. “Couldn’t. Did you see the looks on their faces? They’re on edge as it is. If I’d come out asking one of them to sacrifice their life for a spell, half of them would’ve bolted. The fabric of this court is still too fragile to go making requests like that.”

  He blinked. “Astute. For you, I mean. Perhaps you have more insight into the situation than I first judged.”

  Paula crossed her arms. “If you aren’t going to use someone from your own court, then you must be planning on asking Queen Remy. You know she’ll be hesitant to give you one of her people. The way most fae see it, if New Orleans falls, it barely affects us. And we’re not keen on dying, even for a good cause. Just talking about death is taboo. You’ve got your work cut out for you if you’re expecting some foreign fae to volunteer as a sacrifice.�
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  Dammit, Paula was right. It was hard enough asking one of my own people to do it. How was I going to convince someone who didn’t even live here that it was worth the price?

  I twisted in my seat and glanced out at the few faces still sitting around. Adelard and his wife sat in the corner, an ale in front of him. She grasped a wine glass with her delicate fingers and smiled as if he’d just told a joke.

  Three other fae played a quiet game of pool, talking in hushed tones. Donal, Gregg, and Trevor, I thought their names were. I didn’t know them well, and they were new additions brought in by Paula, but I still wasn’t going to ask one of them. Donal had a new baby at home and Trevor had just landed a promotion at work. I’d overheard them talking about it last week. Gregg was just jumpy in general. He’d been mugged a few weeks back and hadn’t relaxed since. They were good people, all of them. Asking any of them to lay down their life for a one-time-use spell, especially now that I knew their souls would be consumed, felt like a dick move.

  I turned the bottle around, sliding it over the bar. “I was kind of hoping Remy had a prisoner or something who wanted to make amends.”

  A life sentence in Faerie was a serious thing, especially when you lived forever. With all the recent turmoil in the courts, and the changeovers of monarchs, there had to be a prisoner somewhere that wanted an out.

  “I hope you’re right,” Emma said, sitting on the other side of me. She held a phone out so I could see the weather report playing.

  The tropical depression had been upgraded to a category three hurricane and made a hard left turn. Its edges were just skirting the Florida panhandle, and the pictures coming out of there didn’t look promising. Flooding, high winds, power outages, and reports of looting scrolled across the bottom of the screen while the video showed uprooted trees and the roofs being blown off of houses. And that was just the edge of this thing. I didn’t want to think about what it’d do if it hit category five. Hurricane Albus, they were calling it.

  I rubbed my face. It was going numb from the lack of sleep. “We need to speed this up.” I still needed to figure out how to get the soul of an angel and a fae. Then I’d need to craft the weapon, secure a boat, and sail out to do whatever I was supposed to do with it. A lot to do in a few days, especially since I’d probably lose time in Faerie.

  I pushed away from the bar and stood. “I need to talk to Samedi. Paula, I hate to ask but...”

  Before I could finish speaking, she’d set a bottle of rum on the bar in front of me. “Upstairs is unlocked. Feel free to crash there for the evening. Just try not to wreck the place.”

  I almost thanked her but stopped myself. I must’ve been tired. “What about Emma?”

  The look Paula gave Emma had made full-grown men cower, but she addressed me. “You sure she’s on the level?”

  I couldn’t trust Emma, no matter how much I wanted to. She was still working for Loki. But she wasn’t going to hurt me or do anything that’d slow down our progress. Not on purpose. As long as my goals aligned with Loki’s I had nothing to fear from her. I started to answer, but Emma shut me off with a wave of her hand.

  “I can answer for myself,” she said. “You may think less of me because of the decision I’ve made, but that doesn’t give you the right to judge me. I’m not going to hurt anybody, Laz least of all. We all want the same thing.”

  “Doesn’t mean I trust you.” Paula pursed her lips a minute before pointing at me. “Fine, but you’re accepting responsibility for her and anything she does. I don’t need no more damage to this place. My insurance is already sky high as it is.” She walked away, mumbling and gathering up dishes to take to the back.

  I took the rum and turned to Emma. “How about it? You up for a little magic?”

  Emma smiled and slid her arm around mine. “Always.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Opening the door to the apartment above Paula’s with Emma at my back, it was impossible not to think of the last time both of us had been there. The night had ended with her in my arms and everything taking a turn for the better. I’d thought I was losing her then, too. Apparently, I was a poor judge of our relationship status.

  The atmosphere around us was different this time. It was as if I didn’t know her anymore. Everything was awkward all over again. Did we have to start over? Or had she moved on? And if she had, was it her decision or had Loki forced the issue? There was no way to know. Even the brief interaction we’d had in the car on the way over felt weird and out of place. Maybe I’d just been on my own too long.

  The apartment was exactly as I remembered it with the worn rug, second-hand love seat, simplistic Americana design. If I walked into the bedroom, I’d find the dream circle was still there, waiting to be powered up. Maybe Paula had moved the bed back over it, but it was there. I knew it with all the certainty that I knew Baron Samedi would show up. Why couldn’t I have that certainty that the Emma I knew was still in there?

  I pushed the thought away and went to place the rum on the bar while I rummaged around for a couple of tumblers.

  Emma ran her fingers over the faded afghan on the back of the love seat, pausing when she reached the end of it. “So, Remy’s a queen.”

  I hesitated in the middle of pouring the drinks and nearly let them overflow. I’d forgotten she walked out before I got to Remy’s side before. Did she not know before tonight what’d happened?

  I was still working my way through the shock of it. I couldn’t imagine just hearing it dropped in casual conversation that your boyfriend’s infant daughter was suddenly a queen in Faerie. “Loki didn’t keep you up to speed?”

  She shook her head and bit her bottom lip. “Things have been...complicated.”

  “I’d say that’s putting it lightly.” Rather than begin the summoning, I offered one of the tumblers to her. “Wanna talk about it?”

  “Thought that was for Samedi.”

  “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

  She took the tumbler and cradled it in her hands, staring into the amber liquid. “I’m not sure what there is to say.”

  “Start with the beginning. Where’d you go after you left me on the street?”

  Emma placed the glass on the counter and leaned forward, eyebrows knitted. “I...I don’t remember. I remember going to Faerie, meeting the Winter Knight and hearing her plan. What you did. Then...” She shook her head. “There are blank spaces. It’s like there are two lives in my head. I remember you, everything from before, but I also remember staring at my own reflection in the mirror with a gun in my hands feeling helpless.”

  I nodded. “After what happened while I was in Faerie the first time. When you shot that kid, it made you question everything. You were depressed, Emma. You fought that and won.”

  “That’s not the point I’m trying to make.” She pressed her lips into a thin line until they paled a shade before downing half the rum. “In those moments of darkness, when I had nowhere to turn and felt at my lowest, he was there to pick me up.”

  “He?” I frowned. “He who?”

  Emma smiled slightly and met my eyes. “Loki.”

  “Impossible. We didn’t even meet him until after all that.”

  She shrugged. “I know how it sounds, but looking back that’s all I see.”

  I downed the entire glass of rum and refilled it. He’d gotten into her head and scrambled things. Hadn’t he? I supposed it was possible he’d been influencing her since before we actually met. He was a god, after all. Who knew what he was capable of?

  I rested my palms against the cool countertop and shook my head. “Emma, think about what you’re saying. Think about it logically. You’re telling me the Norse trickster god’s been whispering to you for the better part of a year. You. Why would Loki show any interest in you?”

  One eyebrow quirked up and she lowered her glass. “Why? Because I’m black?”

  I choked on air.

  Emma’s face shifted from disbelief to amusement. “I’m kidding,
Laz. Trust me. I know how it sounds. It all made sense yesterday morning, but ever since the fort things don’t add up. I still believe his plan will work. Humanity is a dumpster fire. It’s time we fix that. If we need the nuclear option, why not? We’re all killing ourselves anyway.”

  “What about the good people who get swept up in it? What about children? Infants, Emma. Little old cat ladies. The freaking Pope.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Talk about a dumpster fire.”

  “Okay, bad example. But still, what about Nate and his wife? What about Grammy, Curtis, and your folks?”

  The mask of certainty dropped from her face, and for just a moment I saw her waver. Maybe I could get through to her. But it only lasted a second and then she was back to her old hard-nosed self. “Everything has a price. At least they won’t suffer.”

  I sighed, frustrated, and shook my head. Arguing with her wasn’t getting me anywhere, and I was too tired to keep it up all night. I picked up the rum, filled the glass and started the chant to summon Samedi.

  I used to think of Baron Samedi as my boss. Now, I thought of him more as a helpful informer. He wasn’t really in charge of me so much as he was supposed to be keeping an eye on me and making sure I did my job, though he filled that role loosely. Technically, as the Pale Horseman, my job was to keep the balance between the mortal and the immortal world. One could argue I’d royally screwed that up several times over. Samedi would shout and threaten and get all worked up, but he never did anything about it. I got the feeling he didn’t want to and probably secretly approved of the messes I got myself into.

  But when he wasn’t yelling at me, he was the Loa of death and sex, an important position among the Loa. They were sort of like intermediaries between humans and gods, but also seemed to have a god-like power all their own. He also liked to make an entrance if he bothered coming at all. Since I hadn’t taken the time to perform the complicated ritual that’d force the issue, he could just decide not to come.

  After a few minutes, though, I heard a familiar throat clear behind me. “And here I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me.”