by E. A. Copen
I turned around, holding the glass of rum out to him. He’d neglected the suit he normally wore for something less formal: a suit jacket, black shorts, and a purple tank top. Guess it was too hot out, even for Loa. He still had on his signature top hat with the feathers in the band though.
Samedi took the glass and raised it to Emma. “Miss Knight. I see you’ve found your way out of the darkness and into the shadow.”
“Shouldn’t that be into the light?” Emma said.
“No.” The Baron chugged his drink and smacked his lips when he was finished, refusing to elaborate. “Now, what is it you want?”
“How much do you know about what I’m doing for Loki?” I crossed my arms over my chest.
Samedi liked to pretend he didn’t know what was going on just so he could act irritated with me and call me names, but I suspected he was at least as well connected as I was, if not more so. He probably knew everyone I’d talked to and everywhere I’d been within moments of it happening.
He grinned, showing perfect white teeth. “Not in the mood for our usual song and dance? You tell me how much you’ve screwed up; I tell you what an idiot you are. I do miss those exchanges.”
I rolled my hand, gesturing for him to continue.
“Very well. I’m up to speed on your situation. Mostly. I cannot speak for what Famine is up to. That’s not my business. You, on the other hand, are in more trouble than a springtime crawfish. Typhon? And you think you can stop him?” He sighed. “I suppose I’ve been wrong before.”
“Fenrir showed me a vision,” I said, hoping to get him back on track. “A bunch of gods were sitting at a table, discussing how to fight him the first time. Odin, Vesta, Zeus, some cat-like goddess.”
Samedi picked lint off his jacket. “I know this meeting. What about it?”
“I need to talk to one of them. The people who originally fought against Typhon. I figure if anyone knows his weaknesses, or the details of how to complete this ritual, they will.”
Samedi glanced up, his lips pursed. He considered me a moment before removing his top hat and using it to fan himself. “Well, arranging that meeting would be difficult. First of all, Zeus hates you.”
“What’d I ever do to him?”
“Don’t feel bad. Most gods don’t like you.”
“Thanks,” I grumbled.
Samedi smiled. “Then, of course, Vesta is dead. The cat goddess was Bastet. Considering your position toward cats, a meeting with her would be...unwise.”
“You try calling up a cat ghost and see if you still want to pet a fluffy murder demon.” It wasn’t that I hated cats. I just hated cat spirits. I’d always been more of a dog person. “What about Odin?”
“The Allfather?” Samedi stroked his chin in thought. “It could be arranged, but it will not go over well that you’re assisting Loki.” He glanced at Emma.
“Can you set up the meeting or not?”
The Baron shrugged. “I can try. With Odin? That’s the best offer you’re going to get. Anything else?”
I nodded and hesitated before asking my other question. With Emma standing right there, it was awkward to ask about the Spellweaver, but what choice did I have? “You wouldn’t happen to know of any master enchanters or Spellweavers would you?”
Samedi frowned. “Why on Earth would you need both?”
“What’s a Spellweaver?” Emma asked and crossed her arms.
“An enchanter enchants. Therefore, it stands to reason that a Spellweaver weaves spells.” The Baron leaned forward and picked up the bottle of the rum, lifting it in a toast. “But not just any spells. They’re a rare breed of magic user found only among the fae able to see and interact with the very fabric of magic itself. Similar to how Lazarus and the other Horsemen can see souls, except they can see it everywhere and not just when it’s contained in souls. The question is, what do you want with one?”
I cast a wary glance at Emma and swallowed. If she figured out why I wanted to talk to a Spellweaver, there was no telling how she’d react. Not good, that much was for sure. “Do you know one or not?”
Samedi stopped chugging from the bottle long enough smile at me. “Keep walking the path you’re on, Horseman. You’ll find what you need.”
I tried to tell him that wasn’t what I asked, but a thick, purple smoke wrapped around Samedi from the floor up, and when it disappeared, he was gone.
Chapter Sixteen
I didn’t want to stay above Paula’s but I didn’t want to go home either. The house was too strong a reminder of Pony D’s presence, more than I could stand. As for Paula’s, I knew if I stayed there I’d just go downstairs to peruse the booze and just get wasted. I needed out of there, somewhere I could get some fresh air and space to process, but I wasn’t going to get any of that if Emma was looking over my shoulder.
I went out to the little balcony that overlooked the parking lot while Emma was in the bathroom. It wasn’t an ideal thinking spot, but it was as close to alone as I’d been in the last forty-eight hours. Cars slid by on the road, little more than milky headlights in the fog that’d settled over New Orleans. The fog was thick enough to feel like rain on the back of my neck.
Keep walking the path I’m on, I thought, looking out at the wisps of grayish white moving through the city. Since when was Samedi a fortune teller? Maybe he knew what I wanted the Spellweaver for. Maybe I didn’t need one at all.
Emma had said things had been different since Fort Pike. It could be because I had accidentally drained some of her life energy and that disrupted the spell. A little more and she might break free on her own.
“There you are.” The door thudded closed behind Emma as she stepped out to join me on the balcony.
I hadn’t heard her open it. That’s how tired I was. A monster could sneak up on me right then and rip out my heart and I’d never even notice.
I tried to smile at her as she leaned against the metal railing, but it was hard. Just looking at her and knowing something was wrong hurt. I wanted to help her, to fix things between us, get back the smart, sassy, no-nonsense homicide cop I knew and loved. She was in there somewhere. I just had to coax her out.
Emma smiled back. “You okay?”
I shrugged. “I’m exhausted, but I won’t be able to sleep here. Don’t want to go home because...”
“Because home is Pony’s house.”
I nodded.
Emma chewed on her bottom lip a moment. “What about my place?”
“Your place?” I pushed up from the railing.
Emma hadn’t been home since Loki cast his spell on her. I’d checked every day for a while, watering her plants and dusting the place while she was gone. I thought maybe if she came back, I could get an explanation. But she didn’t come. The daily visits became weekly, then bi-weekly until I stopped going altogether. I hadn’t been to Emma’s since the middle of May.
“It’s still there, isn’t it?” Emma asked. “Power’s probably off since I haven’t paid the bill in a while, but at least the house was paid off. The bank shouldn’t be knocking down the door yet, and there haven’t been any fires that I’ve heard about. Must mean it’s still standing.” She linked her arm in mine. “Come on, Laz. You’re beat. There’s nothing more that can be done tonight.”
An idea clicked in my head. The familiar surroundings might be good for her. Could jog something loose. It was a long shot, and probably wishful thinking, but I was too tired to say no as she pulled me down the stairs to the parking lot.
The ride across town was a blur. I was out almost as soon as I sat down in the passenger seat and buckled in, head resting against the window, and didn’t wake until Emma shut off the car. At first, the darkness disoriented me. Then, as I blinked, the tiny little two-bedroom house came into focus. All the windows were dark and empty, but it didn’t look like anyone had broken them. The grass was high though. High enough the city would probably check in soon. It was a wonder the neighbors hadn’t.
I suddenly felt guilty for n
ot checking on the house more often. Whether Emma came back or not, someone had to take care of the property. For a while, Darius’ guys handled it, but they had lives too, and I couldn’t afford to keep them working all the time. I should’ve been more involved. Maybe phoned her parents to let them know what was going on. Grammy at least understood the supernatural. She’d seen a Titan’s handiwork before. They were probably worried sick about her, and here I’d just left everyone to worry.
I hadn’t done much of anything over the last couple months except mope around and try to find a way to undo what I’d done. That wasn’t much of an existence at all if you asked me.
Emma got out of my tiny car and slowly walked up the front steps. I moved like a snail, gathering my staff and dragging myself up the walk. Wood creaked under our feet once we both reached the porch. Emma stood on her tiptoes and ran her hand over the top of the doorframe, looking for her spare key.
“No need,” I mumbled and grabbed the keychain from her. I still had the spare house key on my ring.
She stepped back and let me unlock the door.
Inside, it was dark and dusty, but hotter than an oven in Hell. I immediately broke into a sweat. We looked at each other and stepped in opposite directions to move around the house, opening windows.
Emma tried one of the light switches, but true to her prediction, the power company had cut her off for non-payment. Guess that happens when you don’t pay your electric bill for three months. “There should be some candles in the kitchen,” she said.
I nodded. “Third drawer, right? Next to the doilies?”
“You remember.”
I wanted to say “How could I forget?” but didn’t. Last time I’d been at Emma’s place during a power outage, it was trick-or-treat night. The last night before everything changed. By the following morning, Morningstar had roped us into fighting for him in a stupid tournament, the same tournament where we’d eventually cross paths with Loki for the first time. As I dug through the drawer, drawing out white taper candles, I wished I could go back to that night and tell Morningstar to stuff it. If we’d never fought in the tournament, Emma wouldn’t have died, I wouldn’t have had to go to Hell to free her, and the world might be a better, happier place for the both of us.
But then who knows? Maybe some people just weren’t meant to be happy.
I stuck the candles into a couple candle holders I found, lit them with matches from the drawer and went back to the living room only to find Emma wasn’t there. A sound in the back of the house drew my attention. I lifted the candles and wandered down the hall, stopping in the doorway of what had once been Emma’s bedroom. The last time I was here, I’d stripped the sheets and blankets, which were just gathering dust, and covered the bed with a sheet of painter’s canvas I bought. Emma had pulled the canvas away and set herself to making up the bed. The big window was open, curtains pulled away to let the moonlight splash against the bed.
Watching her move in the dim light in that candid moment reminded me of why I’d fallen for her in the first place. It was the little things. The way she’d hum to herself when she thought no one was looking, or the calm that settled over her face when she found a task to complete.
She finished smoothing out the quilt she’d put on the bed and looked up, tucking some hair behind her ear. “There you are. Thought you might’ve gotten lost. Was it you who put the canvas over everything?”
My throat felt like it was full of hot desert sand, so I just nodded.
Emma ran her fingers over the pillows she’d just placed on the bed. Her eyebrows knitted together. “I suppose someone had to take care of the place. It’s been in the family for years. I loved this house.”
“It’s still your house, Emma.” I stepped into the dark room. Candlelight spread out from the lit candle in my hand, illuminating dusty surfaces.
The bed creaked as she sat down on the edge of it, staring at the breeze moving the lacy curtains. “Do you know that moment after a nightmare where you first wake up? There’s a moment where reality blurs and anything’s possible. Infinite possibilities stretch out, all of them terrifying. You’re just a helpless little blip in a galaxy of bigger, scarier things. Your throat hurts. Your lungs feel like you’ve breathed in poison and you can’t exhale, no matter how desperately you want to. Do you know that moment, Laz?” She turned her face toward me. Her features softened in the pale, flickering light. “That’s what it feels like right now. Like I can’t get that breath. I can’t wake up the rest of the way. I know what I should be doing and feeling, but there’s a part of me that’s just not into it. It’s like my body is on automatic and I’m watching from somewhere else. It scares the hell out of me.”
I put the candle down on the dresser next to me and sat down beside her. “We’re going to figure this out, Emma. Whatever happened to you, we’re going to fix it.”
She closed her eyes. “I don’t know if that’s possible. Maybe this is just who I am now, this fractured, broken person whose life makes no sense. Sometimes, there’s no going back.”
“Then we go forward.” I took her hand in mine and squeezed until she opened her eyes. “No one stays lost forever.”
Emma smiled a little bit and leaned in, resting her head on my arm.
I put my arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug. “I want you back, Emma.”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, morphing it halfway through into a yawn. “I want me back, too.”
I stayed with her, holding her, afraid that if I let go, she’d be gone again. I didn’t know if it was the house, the magic, or the exhaustion, but somehow, Emma had peeked through the spell woven around her soul and gotten a moment of clarity. It wasn’t perfect, not even close, but it told me she really was in there and that she was fighting with everything she had.
The shadows grew longer and the candle burned lower. My legs were going numb from the way I was sitting, but I didn’t dare move. Emma’s breathing had evened out and she’d relaxed in my arms, finally asleep. I lowered her slowly to the bed and shifted the blanket so that it covered her. Then I crawled into bed next to her to sleep on my back. Emma rolled over and settled against me, and for a little while, all was right with the world.
Chapter Seventeen
I woke up with a sword pressed to my neck, peering up into beady black eyes over a black beak. “Move and die.”
I blinked, realizing Emma’s weight was gone from my arm. She must’ve rolled over again after we fell asleep. “I thought Karasu-Sama was sending someone to take me to a meeting, not an assassin.”
“I’m not an assassin. If I were, you’d be dead and I’d be gone.”
I realized this Tengu’s voice was different, softer, more melodic, and definitely female. Not Karasu or Kaage then, but someone else working for them. Figures they wouldn’t come themselves.
“Mind removing the sword from my neck? It’ll be a little hard to go with you to this meeting if you skewer me, and I’d really appreciate it if my friend didn’t have to wake up to find my dead body next to her.” I carefully tilted my head, indicating the other side of the bed where Emma laid.
The Tengu considered me for a moment, then swiftly withdrew her sword, sliding it back into the scabbard at her waist. “Don’t worry about your bedmate. I’ve ensured she’ll sleep for several hours undisturbed with no ill effects. That is, so long as you behave yourself.” She offered me her wing as if it were a hand.
I was wary of grabbing onto a giant crow’s wing, partly because I’d always thought of bird wings as fragile. Then again, Tengu were magical creatures; how else could they grip a sword without any fingers? I gripped her wing. Feathers curled around my hand like fingers, each one solid and bony. Or maybe they were fingers. In the dark, I couldn’t tell.
She helped lift me to my feet before stepping back and giving me a slight bow. “I am Keiko-sama, and I have been sent to bring you to my brothers.”
“Brothers, huh? You guys have a literal family tree th
en?” I yawned and searched the room for my staff. Must’ve left it in the kitchen.
She tilted her head to the side and blinked at me, evidently not amused.
I sighed. “No sense of humor. I think I like your brothers better.”
Crow beaks aren’t made for sneering, but I got the distinct feeling that Keiko would’ve sneered at me if she were capable. She turned away, drew her sword and made four expert slashes through the air faster than I could blink twice. The air itself parted, revealing a portal through which cool air flowed smelling of vegetation and fresh water. Daylight danced in trees on the other side.
Keiko put her sword back and stood up straight. “Come. This way,” she said and stepped through the portal.
I looked back at where Emma lay on the bed, one hand tucked under her head. She looked safe and comfortable, and I wouldn’t be gone long. Hopefully, by the time I came back, I’d have War on board to help me.
I stepped through the portal.
It was cooler on the other side by twenty degrees. Not cold, but not warm either. Spring weather. It looked the part of spring too. I stood in a garden surrounded by greenery and blooming flowers. A stream ran over decorative rocks just a few feet in front of me, flowing down from a rock formation on my right. The paved path I stood on curved into a stone footbridge with moss growing on the sides.
They were waiting for me at the bridge, Karasu on one side, Kaage on the other, and Haru standing between them. All three wore swords and serious looks. And here I was, unarmed and half-asleep.
I yawned, scratched my chest and wandered a few steps further into the garden. “Hey, fellas. Nice place.”
“That’s far enough.” Haru’s hand went to the katana at his side, ready to draw.
I held up my hands. “Easy there, Samurai Jack. You guys asked me to come, remember? Where’d Keiko go anyway?”
“She’s here. If you could see her, she wouldn’t be doing her job.” The Tengu on the right—I thought it might be Kaage, since he was the shorter of the two—stepped forward.
