by E. A. Copen
After I settled most of my earthly debts, I called and left a message with Darius, telling him I had the money and would bring it by as soon as I could. Then, I got to work seeing what I could do about all my other debts, the least of which involved killing Imseti and Hapi. While ripping out their souls might’ve seemed straightforward enough, that plan relied on getting close enough to grab said soul. I was outclassed when it came to actual combat experience, and Imseti would probably send more winged gators after me. Hapi’s teeth were going to be a problem, as proven by the last time he’d bitten me. I’d gotten lucky when Seb showed up, and I couldn’t count on that again.
If I couldn’t beat them in a fair fight, that meant I had to find an advantage, and the only one I had so far was the museum itself.
The New Orleans Museum of Art wasn’t a place I frequented in normal life, mainly because I got funny looks whenever I tried to rub elbows with the elite of the city. That meant I had no idea what the place looked like on the inside, and that was as good as going in blind. Luckily, I had the Internet, and the Internet had maps. I found an online visitors’ map and spent about an hour sketching a copy for myself, marking out any points of interest.
Around one in the afternoon, Beth came out and helped me figure out more parts of the map, marking hallways and exhibits that weren’t on the online map. “There’s also the restoration room,” she said, flipping over the paper to make a quick sketch. “It’s not accessible to the public, so it’s not on those maps, but it’s full of priceless artifacts that are usually on display when Pipi’s not in town.”
I made a face. “You know it’s creepy when you talk about mummies like they’re real people, right?”
She looked up from her sketch and raised her eyebrows. “He was a real person. Just because he’s dead doesn’t make him any less of a person. You taught me that.”
“Good point.”
She finished putting in some shelves and slid the page over to me. “If you do wind up fighting in the museum, avoid this place. The things here can’t be replaced, Lazarus. Once you start smashing things, you’ll be destroying history itself.”
“Don’t bump shelves in the antique shop. Got it, Mom.” I tapped the place on the map where Pipi’s exhibit was going to be. Our plan was to place the box on a pedestal near the middle of the hall and just sort of hang around until they showed up. “Everywhere in the museum is going to be full of that kind of thing though.”
“Except these administrative hallways.” She pointed to a series of unmarked rooms toward the back of the second floor. “The big room is a classroom, and all the rest of these are offices, so if you’ve got to destroy an area of the museum, that’d be the safest place. Try not to let it get that far though, will you?”
I nodded. “Do my best.”
A museum full of priceless artifacts probably wasn’t the ideal setting for a showdown, but it was the only public place where showing off the box made sense. I hoped Imseti and Hapi cared enough about making a scene that they’d go along with the rest of my plan.
I glanced up at the glowing digital clock on the stove. It was just short of two, meaning we had two hours before the gala started, and only a few minutes before Adelard had said to come back for the suit. I hadn’t set up a time with The Baron for him to send a car to pick us up, but I hoped it was already waiting.
“Better get your dress and makeup,” I told Beth and nodded to the clock. “It’s just about time to go check on our favorite leprechaun.”
***
There was no hearse in the parking lot when I stepped outside, but one pulled into the parking lot before I could say “Louis Armstrong”. The windows were tinted enough I couldn’t see the driver, but no one else I knew owned a purple hearse, so when it stopped, I climbed into the back. Beth followed, a garment bag folded over one arm and a purse-sized box of makeup in the other hand.
“Do you always ride around in these things?” she asked, looking around.
“Not when my car’s not totaled.” Guess that’s where the rest of my salary was going. I laid my staff behind the two seats. Even with the suit, the staff would make me stand out, but I wasn’t willing to go anywhere without it.
I settled into the seat, and the car took off, speeding fast enough that it pressed my back into the seat. Car horns blared as we rushed through the busy New Orleans streets at highway speeds, jerking left and right. If we didn’t slow down, we’d probably get pulled over, and that’d really slow us down.
“Hey, man,” I said, peeling my back away from the seat to knock on the partition.
The narrow strip of glass lowered, revealing the front seat and our driver. Or drivers. There were three, each of them about the size of a large cat with red, membranous wings, sharp facial features, and forked tails. Two of them chittered back and forth on the floor while the third jerked the steering wheel back and forth. Goblins. The Baron’s chauffeurs were goblins.
The one at the steering wheel had a big cigar sticking out from between two fat green lips. He bit down on it and turned his head to sneer at me. “What?” He sounded like he’d sucked down a helium balloon. “You got a problem with my driving?”
“Nope.” I shrank away as the partition went back up and made sure to buckle my seatbelt.
Our ride to the Quarter was nerve-wracking but quick. The hearse pulled into a parking spot near the alley, and we got out, thankful to have arrived in one piece. The door to the shop jerked open just as I extended my hand to knock.
Adelard glared up at me, his upper lip drawn back, a measuring tape around his neck like a scarf. “Late! Always late! Well, don’t just stand there. Come in, come in.” He shuffled aside to let us pass. Once we were inside, he slammed the door. “The Baron, he’s not with you?”
I shrugged. “Guess he had other things to do.” I wanted to point out that I wasn’t The Baron’s keeper, but didn’t want to get on Adelard’s bad side any more than I already was.
The little man snorted. “Always coming and going, that one. Never staying. For the best. What are you standing around for? Have to do the fitting. Come on, this way.”
He all but dragged me toward the back room of the shop I’d first seen him come out of. The door was too small for me to get through without ducking, though he hardly slowed to let me, and I nearly smacked my head on the frame.
On the other side of the door, there were racks upon racks of suit jackets, vests, coats, and pants on hangers. A woman sat at a sewing machine in the corner under a bright light, her hands deftly pushing fabric through it while another set of hands lifted a teacup to her mouth. Four hands, one woman. That had to be useful.
Adelard waddled over to her corner where a single suit jacket sat on a smaller rack. On his way back, he stopped to collect a white dress shirt, a red vest, and a matching tie. All of these he thrust at me before pointing to a small changing area. “Get dressed.”
I stepped behind the small screen and slid the clothes on, marveling at how light it all felt. It was like wearing practically nothing at all, despite having put on several layers. Yet it was also warmer than my typical jeans and t-shirt. For the first time ever, I was warm without my coat or a blanket. I finished the last button on the crimson vest and slid my hands over the material one more time, just to check that it was really there.
Adelard cleared his throat. “Well?”
When I stepped out from behind the screen, he squinted at me, but said nothing.
The woman at them sewing machine, however, rose and came over to me. “How does it fit?” she asked with a slight accent I couldn’t place.
“Not bad,” I said, testing the movement. I didn’t feel restrained in the least.
“Not bad?” Adelard sputtered.
She ignored him, so I did too. “Say, what’s it made out of?”
“Spider silk.” Her hands moved over the seams of the suit, checking. “Soft and light, but strong enough to resist piercing bullets. It will slow most blades, but they’ll still penet
rate.”
I blinked. A bulletproof suit made of spider silk? It sounded like something straight out of a spy novel. Not that I thought I’d be dealing with lots of guns and bullets, since Imseti and Hapi preferred bladed weapons and teeth, but any protection was welcome.
She grabbed some pins from a pin cushion and pinned a few things. “It’s not quite right. Could use some small alterations.”
“I’m kind of in a hurry.” I eyed the clock. There was still plenty of time before the gala officially got started, but we had to be there before then to place the box. “As long as it’s functional, I’m good.”
She paused halfway through shoving another pin in the suit and frowned. “It’s not perfect, but I suppose if the customer is satisfied, I can let it go. Let’s try the jacket first, shall we?” She used two hands to help me slide the jacket on while the other two went about picking out the pins she’d just put in.
As I buttoned it, she stepped back, tapping her chin. “Still missing something.” She eyed me for a long moment before snapping her fingers. “Shoes! How could we forget the shoes?” In a flurry, she turned and started pulling boxes down from the shelf behind her, glancing back at me every few boxes.
When she came back, it was with a shiny pair of black dress shoes. She must’ve been psychic to some degree or a really good guesser because they fit perfectly. The seamstress squealed in delight and rushed me out to the main room.
I had a moment of panic when we stepped in and found the room empty, but another door I hadn’t noticed before opened and Beth stepped out wearing a tapered red evening gown. She took two steps before her foot caught on the rug and she fell forward, arms waving. I rushed to catch her, but Beth righted herself before I could.
“I’m okay,” she insisted, holding her arms out in case she fell again.
“Better than okay in that dress.” I whistled.
Her cheeks colored, and she tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “You don’t clean up half bad yourself.”
The suit would probably be ruined by the end of the night if things went how I thought they would, but I couldn’t argue. For once, I thought I looked pretty decent all dressed up.
The seamstress clasped both pairs of hands together. “They look lovely, don’t they, Adelard?”
Adelard grunted.
A thought suddenly occurred to me, and I patted myself down. “The tea. One sec.”
Beth, Adelard, and the seamstress all gave me funny looks as I rushed back into the dressing room to search my pockets, coming back with the little teabag Sybille had given me. I jammed it into my pocket and rejoined them in the main room of the shop.
“Find what you were looking for?” Beth asked as I closed the door behind me.
I nodded and extended a hand. “You ready?”
Beth smiled and put her hand in mine.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The gala was just getting started when we arrived, thanks to a quick talk about road safety I had with the goblin drivers. They balked at my suggestion to obey the speed limit but went along with it when I told them The Baron would be upset if they scratched the paint.
Seb met us at the door, his face flushed and his red bow tie crooked. “You have no idea what a relief it is to see you.”
“Did you talk to Imseti and Hapi like I asked?” I said.
Seb blew out a breath. “I did. They’ll be here, as far as I know. I honestly haven’t had much time to think about it. Everything seems to be going wrong today.”
“Why? What happened?” Beth unwound her arm from mine, a mild panic building in her voice.
“They’ve put Pipi in Neiruthep’s place and the plaque for the sarcophagus on the wrong side. And don’t get me started on what they’ve done with the canopic chest.” Seb was practically pulling his hair out. “And we’ve only got moments to fix it before our exhibit is the laughing stock of the academic world.”
Beth placed her hands on his shoulders. “Calm down, Seb. Go and see about getting Pipi and Neiruthep’s plaques switched. It’ll be easier than moving the mummies. I’ll go see about the rest, okay?”
He gave a panicked nod and rushed back into the museum.
Beth turned to me, pulling the small, cloth wrapped box from her purse and pressing it into my hands. “I’ve got to go. He really is helpless without me.”
“Hard to believe that guy’s a god,” I said, taking the box. “Looked like he was about to have a panic attack.”
She smiled. “He might if I don’t get the plaque on Pipi’s sarcophagus moved to the right side. Find me after you’ve placed the box.”
I was reluctant to let her go anywhere I wasn’t following, but I didn’t know the first thing about setting up a museum exhibit, so I figured I didn’t have much choice. Besides, Seb wouldn’t be too far ad there was security at ever entrance and exit. Not that the human security officers could do anything to stop Hapi and Imseti, but I’d hear the commotion if anything happened.
The exhibit stretched over two large rooms with a hallway between them. Since the mummies and the larger artifacts were all in the bigger room to the right, I took the left split when I came to it.
The room was bigger than my entire apartment with a twelve-foot vaulted ceiling. Waist-high pillars stood in lines around the room, each one holding an artifact inside a climate-controlled glass case. Everything from gaudy gold necklaces to wax seals stood on display. Glasswork, pottery, beads, and tools had all been painstakingly restored by Seb and his team over the last few years, and this gala was supposed to celebrate their completion of the project. All the money the event raised would go toward future costs of keeping the exhibit open and free to the public.
I walked down the lines of pillars and artifacts, searching for one that didn’t have a glass case. That’s where I was supposed to put the small box that contained a part of the Shadow Queen’s soul. A couple standing at the end of the first row parted, and I spied the empty column with its naked red pillow.
That must be it. Doesn’t look very secure. The only thing separating me and the rest of the general public was a single red velvet rope and one cop I recognized from the station. I didn’t know his name, but when he saw me approaching, he touched something in his ear and mumbled something about the psychic being here.
“I’m not a psychic,” I said, strolling up. “And you look familiar.”
His hand strayed toward the gun at his side. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to back away.”
“Stand down, lieutenant,” Emma said from behind me.
I turned and tried to hide my surprise with a smile. She wasn’t dressed in her normal detective clothes, instead choosing to put on a loose-fitting black dress, her only accessory the gun at her side. “Emma! Here for the party?”
“Working,” She crossed her arms. “After last night, I did some digging. Looked up the names you gave me. Turns out they’re Egyptian gods. So, I figured this was the most likely place to run into them.”
“Run into them?” I repeated and shook my head. How many times was I going to have to tell her to leave the gods and other supernatural baddies to me?
“Them, and by extension, you. And wherever you are, trouble follows. I’m here to reduce the collateral damage if I can.” She stepped up to me, and I had to fight to keep from shrinking back. I was almost a foot taller than her and could rip the souls out of gods, but when Emma got that look in her eye, she was a scary lady. “Whatever it is you’re here to do, make sure nobody gets hurt while you’re doing it, will you? I’ve had to bury enough friends on this case.”
Emma pushed past me, bumping her shoulder into me. Damn, that was cold. A far cry from our last conversation the night before. I chalked it up to her running on even less sleep than me. After all she’d been through, I couldn’t blame her for being upset.
“Hey, Emma.”
She stopped to give me an annoyed look.
I moved closer so I didn’t have to shout. “The body from Jackson Square. Did you ever g
et anything on that?”
She shook her head. “They finished the autopsy this morning, but the results were inconclusive. No obvious signs of trauma or cause of death. We’re still investigating it as a homicide, but because the victim’s a minor, it’s probably going to get turned over to the special victims squad. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve got questions for you.”
A sour taste crept into my mouth. Every time I asked about the kid they’d found buried in Jackson Park, the case felt more and more similar to Lydia’s, except Lydia hadn’t been buried in a public place. Maybe the Archon had learned its lesson, gone underground. But if it was still in the city, I could find it, and I could kill it.
That was if I survived my encounter with Hapi and Imseti.
I turned back to the cop guarding the spot and lifted the cloth covered box. “I need to place this on the pedestal, if you don’t mind.”
He squinted at me, but stepped aside, clearing the way.
I pulled the cloth away and sat the box on the pillow. Unlike the outer box which was covered in priceless gems, the inner sheut box was made of plain wood with hieroglyphs carved into it. Magic energy radiated off the box, thrumming through the air in gentle waves. The cloth I’d had over it was also spelled, but it’d been spelled to block out magical energy. Uncovering the box was like lighting a beacon. Any magical being in the area would suddenly be aware of its presence.
My eyes scanned the small group of people in the room, looking for anyone who might suddenly turn away from what they were doing to answer the sheut box’s call. No one moved. Good. That meant it was likely everyone in the room was human and not someone I had to worry about. Just to be sure, I took a peek at the souls in the room and confirmed it. No gods there yet.
“So you can tie a tie.”
I smiled at Osric’s voice beside me. I felt more than saw him step out of the nearby shadows. He’d opted to wear his normal darker-than-black suit, only this time he’d added a matching black tie. Guy looked more like he was attending a funeral than a fancy gala.
