The Lazarus Codex Boxed Set 2

by E. A. Copen

  The fire team exited the room and declared it clear in voices muffled from behind the heavy, flame-retardant masks they wore. A grim-faced Valkyrie who’d been standing guard in the hallway with us turned away from the door and went into the room.

  I turned my attention to the woman who’d discovered the body. As the first person there, she might have some information about what happened, and I had the best homicide detective in New Orleans right next to me. “Think we should talk to her?”

  “Absolutely.” Emma pushed away from the wall and made straight for the brunette in the corner.

  Our witness hugged herself tight. She wore a dark sweater vest, glasses, and a pair of khaki pants. A thick ring hung from a gold chain around her neck. The French braid gave her an innocent look that I didn’t quite buy. Innocent people don’t work so hard at looking harmless.

  “Excuse me, miss,” Emma started, somehow managing that gentle but commanding tone. “Do you have a minute? I’d like to ask you some questions.”

  When Emma was in one of her suits, with her badge and gun at her hip, and said things like that, people hesitated to decline. It usually wasn’t a good idea to refuse to talk to police, and your average Joe doesn’t want the cops prying around in his life more than they have to. Volunteering information is always better than letting them dig for it. In a t-shirt, camo pants, and as a human among gods, she had no authority.

  The witness wrinkled her nose and lifted her chin. Her eyes darted to the door. She was about to bolt for safety.

  Emma might’ve been out of her element with no authority to force the issue, but I wasn’t.

  I cut in front of Emma and extended a hand to the woman. “Hi, Lazarus Kerrigan. Pale Horseman.” Sorry, Emma.

  The woman’s eyes widened, but she unfolded her arms and took my hand. “Svetlana.”

  “Svetlana,” I repeated and placed my other hand over hers so I was holding her hand with both of mine. “I’m sorry for your loss. Were you close to your father?”

  Her shoulders relaxed, and she looked back to the door, sorrow in her eyes. “He was a hard person to be close to. He liked violence. This tournament would have been the height of his century.”

  “Can you tell us what happened here?” There was an irritated edge to Emma’s voice. She was pissed at me for swooping in and taking over, probably perceiving it as me implying she didn’t know what she was doing.

  Svetlana withdrew her hand and narrowed her eyes at Emma. “Why? You’re not with security. As far as I know you two could be involved. I have no reason to tell you two anything.”

  “We’d like to help,” I said. “There was another murder just like this on Earth yesterday and we’ve been looking into it. Maybe we can find who did this.”

  She leveled her gaze at me and crossed her arms again. “No offense, Horseman, but I hear you’re fighting for Lucifer Morningstar. We were on opposing teams. My father’s death benefits you just as much as it does anyone else. I’ve got nothing to say to anyone.”

  Svetlana pushed off the wall and pushed past us. The door to the Russian apartments slammed closed a moment later.

  I sighed. “That could’ve gone better.”

  Emma huffed. “Next time it’s time to do detective work, let me do the detective work.”

  I started to try and defend myself, but she didn’t want to hear it. She threw up a hand and stormed away.

  Great. Could I have screwed that up any worse? Not only did I not get anything useful out of the Russian, but now Emma’s pissed at me. I sighed and rubbed the bridge of my nose.

  The meal served by coliseum staff consisted of a chicken breast, some bland brown rice, a handful of almonds, and a pitcher of ice water to share. I was suddenly glad Emma had made us breakfast because, while the meal was filling, it had absolutely no flavor. It was like eating a cardboard box.

  At least the tasteless food made it easier to pay attention to the boring lecture Morningstar was giving us at the front of the room. He’d pulled down the white screen and turned on the projector, but had yet to present a visual.

  I pushed the half-finished plate away and eyed Emma across the table. She’d decided to sit next to Khaleda and leave me with the dog. Why the three-headed mutt had to sit in on a strategy meeting was anybody’s guess. At least I had someone to feed my leftovers to, and he didn’t seem to mind the lack of flavor.

  “We covered the basics of the rules earlier,” Morningstar said, his fingertips resting on the tabletop. “Five people to a team, each of you with your own roles. You may not deviate from those roles, even if one of your teammates falls. Each fighter may not fight in more than two bouts, which includes the qualifying round. I will decide who fights and when. As long as three of us are still alive and in fighting shape when the finals happen, we can fight, so try not to die in the early rounds.”

  He tapped the clicker in his hand and the image of a giant bracket appeared on the projector screen, each line bearing a name. Some of them I recognized. Most, I didn’t.

  “This is the qualifying bracket,” Morningstar explained. “Early this morning, while the rest of you were still lounging about, I showed up to participate in the drawing of this bracket. The qualifying rounds are single-fighter and not a team sport, so we’ll put our best foot forward. Khaleda, you’ll fight in the qualifying round.”

  “Love to.” Khaleda leaned on her palm. “Who am I fighting?”

  “Well, it was supposed to be the Russians.”

  He pressed the button again and the dark-haired woman from the hallway appeared on the screen. She was heavily armored in fur, leather, and plate armed with a wicked looking sword and shield. No wonder she didn’t want to talk to us. Had things gone down a little differently, she would have been in the arena trying to kill one of us.

  “Svetlana will have to be replaced now that her team has been disqualified,” Morningstar said, staring at her image. “Pity, really. I would’ve liked to see her fight. She would have actually been a challenge for you, daughter. Instead, they’ll be putting you up against someone I don’t know very well.”

  The next image was blurry, but it was definitely of a hairy humanoid shape about eight feet tall. It looked like it’d sprung into the air from a full charge. The backdrop was all thick green undergrowth. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought I was looking at the world’s biggest, angriest gorilla.

  I clapped. “Congrats. You get to kill Bigfoot.”

  Khaleda just glared at me.

  Morningstar continued. “The Sasquatch is no pushover. He’s a brute class fighter, meaning he’ll come in close. And hit hard. With the thick hide, he’ll be harder to take down as well. I don’t know if the knives will be enough to penetrate.”

  Khaleda drew a knife from her belt, spun it, and stabbed the table. “Let me at the bitch. I can penetrate.”

  Emma rolled her eyes.

  The screen changed, revealing another furry guy, this one with the face of a wolf. In fact, he looked like a man who’d put on a wolf suit, complete with paws and claws, except the dimensions weren’t quite right. A shifter of some sort.

  Spot growled.

  “The Sasquatch is fighting for Coyote. While most teams will likely field their blade like we’re doing, Coyote is more likely to make a show of strength, especially knowing he’s going against us. His blade is also a knife fighter, but his strength is speed, and it’s obvious from the footage I’ve seen he can’t match your speed, Khaleda. The Sasquatch is Coyote’s best bet, so I’m almost positive that’s who he’ll field.”

  Coyote shifter. That explained the weird proportions.

  “Wait, we don’t know?” Emma asked. “What if Coyote himself decides to step in the ring? Wouldn’t Laz be the better choice for the qualifying round then?”

  Khaleda sighed. “He’d have to be insane to risk himself. Strategists don’t fight in the qualifiers for a reason.”

  Morningstar put one hand in his pocket and turned away from the image on the screen to
face the table. “Most deaths in the arena occur in the qualifying round.”

  “And yet you’ll put your daughter in there.” Emma crossed her arms and shook her head.

  Morningstar glared at her. “Khaleda is capable. If she cannot win against this opponent, then we might as well not have come. I wouldn’t put her in if I didn’t think she could do it. I’m not a gambler, Ms. Knight.”

  Khaleda sat up a little straighter and shot Knight a vicious smirk.

  “That being said,” Morningstar continued, “on the off chance that we do not win this qualifying round, I do need to remind everyone of our arrangements.” He focused hard on Khaleda. “Don’t lose, daughter.”

  Khaleda glanced my way quickly before smiling at Morningstar. “I won’t.”

  Morningstar nodded. “The qualifying rounds will go around the clock for the next twenty-four hours. Ours is scheduled at two tonight. I want you all to be in the crowd as much as possible over the next day so that we can scout the other teams. Take notes. Learn. If you have input, I want to hear it. If you’re not out watching the rounds, I suggest you get some rest. We don’t know who we’ll be up against in future rounds, but whoever they are, they’ll have earned their place. You’re all dismissed.”

  I got up from the table and considered making a beeline straight for the door. I had a whole list of people I needed to talk to while I still had some down time, starting with Persephone. She could tell me if Pestilence was here and where I’d find her if she was. I also wanted to check up on Haru and try talking to Svetlana again. Maybe she’d be more willing to open up if I went to talk to her alone.

  But first, I needed to make sure Morningstar wouldn’t be the next strategist to die. He might’ve been a slimy devil, but he was the devil I knew, and if he died, he wouldn’t be able to cancel Emma’s contract. I didn’t have any guarantee that he hadn’t put something in place to collect on his debts in the event of his untimely demise. Best thing to do was make sure he survived, make good on our deal, and live to fight him another day.

  “Someone should be with Morningstar at all times,” I announced before anyone could leave the room.

  He made a sour face. “Why?”

  “Because someone is killing strategists, probably to give their second-rate team a better chance of winning. If they kill you…” I shrugged.

  Morningstar narrowed his eyes. “The terms of our deal are ironclad. Ms. Knight is freed from her obligation only if I win. If something were to happen to me, her debt would still be due in full. Immediately.”

  Emma pushed in her chair. “And who would collect that debt?”

  “I have made arrangements,” Morningstar said. “No need to discuss specifics with you, but suffice it to say the person whom I have chosen has a perfect record of collecting all payments on time.”

  “Doesn’t change the fact that I need to keep you alive to get what I want.” I gestured to Khaleda. “We need to work out some shifts. No more than two of us should be asleep or away from the apartments at a time unless there’s a match on. If we leave, we need to ward the door with the strongest wards we can manage and alert the security team.”

  “I don’t trust the security team,” Khaleda said. “The Norse don’t like us.”

  “They don’t like you,” Emma corrected. “We haven’t done anything to get on their bad side.”

  “Yet,” I added. “I’m with Khaleda on this. We can’t trust anyone not in this room.” And I can’t trust everyone in it. “Only reason I’m alerting them is because I don’t want them to get blown to bits opening a door to check on something.”

  Morningstar crossed his arms. “As you will.”

  “Khaleda, you and Spot hang out here for a bit. Emma, you’re coming with me.”

  “Huh-uh.” Khaleda waved a finger at me. “No way. I’m not getting stuck here.”

  I shrugged. “Thought you’d want your beauty sleep.”

  Khaleda scowled. “Do I look like I need some beauty sleep?”

  “I’m fine to stay with Spot,” Emma said. “I’ve had about enough of gods for one day.”

  I didn’t want to leave her alone with Morningstar, but I wasn’t about to make her come with me either. Emma was already mad enough at me. I’d warned her not to touch Morningstar, and he didn’t seem interested in her. It was Khaleda I had to worry about, and she’d be right there with me. Listening to everything everybody said and possibly reporting straight back to Morningstar.

  “Fine,” I growled, throwing my hands up. “But leave me the hell alone for a few hours, would you? I can’t be doing what I need to do and watching my back for your knives at the same time. I could do without having you up my ass for a few hours.”

  Khaleda gripped the handle of her knife and pulled it straight out of the table, spinning it once in her palm before dropping it back into her belt. “Agreed. You go your way, I go mine. I’ve got other asses to be up in the meantime. Got to be at my best before the big fight.”

  I shivered to think that meant some poor soul was about to become prey for a succubus. It couldn’t be helped though, not if we wanted to win. Not only did I want to win, I was going to. For Emma.

  Chapter Twelve

  I found Persephone sitting behind her podium, one leg crossed over the other, reading a romance paperback with a guy in a kilt on the cover. She lowered it at my approach and smiled. “Lazarus! Didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

  “Got some time to kill.” I shrugged and came to lean on the podium. “Looks like you do too. You said we should talk.”

  “I did.” Persephone marked her spot in the book with a strip of ribbon before closing it and placing it on the podium, frowning. “What are you doing hanging out with someone like Lucifer Morningstar?”

  I cringed. “Trust me, it’s not by choice. He’s got a contract on Emma’s soul. If I win this for him, he forgets about it.”

  Not only that, but I owed him three days of service come February. I hadn’t forgotten about that appointment and I was sure Morningstar hadn’t either. Come Mardi Gras, he’d collect, which left me only a few months to figure out what he wanted me for and figure out how to stop it. That was, if Khaleda didn’t kill him before then.

  Persephone crossed her arms. “You do realize that if he wins, he’ll get to choose the next Horseman?”

  “I do. And I know who he plans on choosing too. It’ll work out. Even if Morningstar wins, he loses.”

  Her face went blank. She looked me up and down, leaning back slightly.

  “What?” I asked and looked down at myself.

  “You’ve changed.”

  “Becoming Death will do that to a guy.”

  She shook her head. “It’s not that. The Lazarus Kerrigan I knew was selfish. In pain. Not ready for the power Baron Samedi gave you.”

  “Ouch.” I placed a hand over my chest. “Really? That’s what you thought of me? And here I thought we were friends.”

  “Don’t misinterpret what I’m trying to say. Deep down, you’ve always been a good person, but even a good man can only take so much before he snaps and sinks into himself. A year ago, you’d never have put your life on the line for a cop.”

  Persephone was right. Like most ex-cons, I didn’t care for law enforcement. They tended to see me as a rap sheet and not a person. Things had started out that way with Emma too. She’d liked me for the murder of Brandi Lavelle, who’d showed up dead on my doorstep. I didn’t blame her. Even from my angle, I looked guilty.

  But then I’d saved her. Gave her the Kiss of Life and brought her back from death. I’d done it because I knew she was a good person, despite the tough cop exterior, and she didn’t deserve to die for doing the right thing. Yet I’d also done it in hopes of saving my own skin. She’d been a staunch skeptic. Bringing her back had not only helped get her in my corner but helped me find a killer to clear my own name. At its core, the act had still been selfish, and I’d spent the last six months trying to sever the connection the Kiss of Life had forged b
etween Emma and me.

  Somewhere along the way, the reasoning for that had changed. It became less about keeping my distance to get back to my life and more about giving Emma back hers. I didn’t know when precisely that’d happened, or when we went from enemies to friends or more, if that was the case. Things were complicated.

  I scratched the back of my head. “Anyway, I was hoping you could fill in a few blanks for me. You said War was fighting, so he’s here. What about Pestilence? Is she around?”

  Persephone frowned. “Why? You’re not going to go pick a fight, are you? Because people are already antsy about you being here.”

  “Me? What the hell did I do?”

  One perfectly plucked eyebrow rose. “Anubis? Nyx? Vesta?”

  “Hey, Nyx and Vesta had it coming, and Anubis forced my hand.”

  “Do you know how many gods War and Pestilence have killed in their tenure?”

  I shook my head.

  Persephone held one hand up, her fingers forming a circle.

  “Oh.”

  She stood. “Diplomacy isn’t your strength, Lazarus.”

  I eyed her. “So my record’s not spotless. Still doesn’t explain why you’re avoiding answering my question. Is Pestilence here, or isn’t she?”

  With a sigh, she turned and started walking, gesturing for me to follow.

  I looked around and didn’t spot anybody coming our way, so I did. “Nobody will miss you at the podium?”

  “If they don’t like it, they can take it up with my husband.” She smoothed her hands over her blouse. “How much do you know about Pestilence and War?”

  I shrugged. “Not much beyond what everyone else knows. They’re Horsemen like me, can probably kill gods like me, and work for some asshole middleman like me.”

  “Not quite.”

  She stopped next to a big metal door. A huge iron bar held the door shut. Persephone lifted it with a grunt and dropped it. Judging by the thud, the thing had to weigh a few hundred pounds, and she’d just lifted it with all the effort I’d use to pick up Remy.