by E. A. Copen
Emma pulled the trigger.
The bullet and the magic hit her at the same time, so it’s impossible to tell which one actually killed her, but the light show was way more dramatic than the blood leaking from her chest. Julia lit up as if she’d stuck a fork in an outlet, power crawling over every inch of her skin. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, but only blood came out. Then, space folded around her, crushing her into a twisted pile of meat and bone. Julia fell and broke apart, flattened, just like her two victims.
Emma’s eyes widened and her head spun around to look at me as if she just realized I was there for the first time.
I grinned at her like the overgrown fool I was.
Apparently, that’s when my body decided enough was enough. No longer able to keep myself upright between the blood loss and all the expended energy, I fell to my knees. I let the staff roll from my fingers across the floor. No point in holding onto it now. I was done. Unless Vesta walked over to me and lay down to die, there was nothing left in me to take her out. Especially since I had no idea where she was anyway.
Emma ran to my side, dropping to her knees next to me. Her hands touched my head, then the hilt of the knife sticking out of me. Panic colored her honey brown eyes. “My God, Laz. Look at you!”
There was nothing she could do for me. I was a dead man; I could already feel it happening. Even so, I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “What took you so long?”
“Some idiot knocked me out and left me in a cemetery. Stay still. There’s an ambulance outside. I’ll get help.”
She moved as if to stand. If she left, she wouldn’t be back, not in time. I’d already died every way known to man, and spent enough time below ground that I no longer feared death creeping up on me. After all, I’d been around death all my life. It felt familiar.
But I didn’t want to meet death alone.
I gripped Emma’s sleeve and held tight. My voice came out weak and raspy as I said, “Stay.”
“If I don’t go get help right now, you’ll die.”
I moved my head back and forth. “I’m dead already. Been that way a while. Just took some time for my body to catch up.”
She hesitated, her eyes fixed on where my hand held her. I wasn’t strong enough to insist. Should she decide to pry my hand free and run to call the paramedics, I couldn’t stop her. Instead, her hand closed over mine. “I’m here.”
“Isn’t this adorable,” Vesta said. She stepped into view behind Emma, a wicked grin on her face. “A harlot and a playboy, comforting each other as they face down death.”
Emma stood. More importantly, she let go of my hand. “I’ll have you know—”
Whatever Emma was about to say was cut short by a backhand from Vesta that sent her reeling. “Silence. Your betters are speaking.” Vesta passed by the other woman without a second look on her way to me.
Emma’s head shot up, murder in her eyes. She pulled her gun and leveled it at Vesta’s head. With a flick of her wrist, Vesta knocked the gun from her hands without even touching her. A glance, and Emma was pinned against a column, just as I had been minutes ago.
“So eager to die,” Vesta mused. “And after this one went through all that trouble to save you.” She turned her attention back to me.
Exhaustion clouded my mind and made my limbs ache, but somehow I found the will to roll to the side and pull myself away from Vesta. No matter how fast I crawled away, however, she was faster. Her bare feet stepped in front of me, and I found myself looking up at her through half-lidded eyes. Only I didn’t just see her. I saw the golden soul shining inside her.
“I’m impressed,” Vesta said. “I spent years grooming Julia after I stole her from her parents. I saw the potential in her long before anyone else did. She was quite skilled with magic. I didn’t expect you to make such short work of her. Or Gaston.”
She hooked a foot under me and flipped me over. I winced, then coughed as blood bubbled up through my mouth. I’d have choked on it if I hadn’t turned my head and spat. Vesta’s foot lowered onto my throat. “Pity, though. Now I’ll have to start all over, and I was just getting settled here.”
She eased on some pressure.
“Wait,” I choked out, and the pressure eased.
Her eyebrow quirked up expectantly.
“You could at least tell me why.”
“Why what?” She gestured vaguely. “Why I dropped Brandi on your doorstep? I thought that’d be obvious. She went to you for help, you, an unclean creature who associates with the dead. I had to send a message. This is my city. You weren’t wanted here.”
“Odette?” I ground her name out through my teeth.
Vesta rolled her eyes. “I didn’t touch your precious love. But her empty apartment was the perfect place to deal with Grace. Not only would it make you more suspicious to the human police, but it helped drive home my point. You weren’t welcome here. And when you got too close, I knew I had to do something. Besides, Grace needed to be punished.”
“She was a child,” Emma snarled.
Vesta’s head snapped toward her. Whatever pressure held Emma against the column increased and she cried out in pain. “She was unclean!” She turned up the pressure on Emma again until I heard bones pop.
I had to do something to get her attention away from Emma and back on me. “What’s your obsession with crushing anyway? You got some kind of fetish?”
That worked. Vesta turned back to me and waved a hand. I floated up off the floor. No matter how I flailed—and I couldn’t very well, considering I was dying—I couldn’t get free of her power. My own magic was exhausted. There was nothing I could do. Unless…
Vesta cocked her head to the side. “Do you know of Tarpeia?”
“Who?”
“Tarpeia,” she repeated. “The daughter of a great Roman general, she was once a Vestal Virgin, not unlike these girls. Unfortunately, she was also a traitor. Unclean. For her crimes, she was crushed to death and flung from a cliff. A fitting punishment, wouldn’t you say?”
So, Vesta was crushing her offending virgins to death so she could relive the old glory days? Sick.
“In the olden days,” she continued, her fingers walking across my chest to rest on the knife, “I was the most important goddess in Rome. I was revered and feared. Why, my cult was even larger than Jupiter’s at one time. Now look at me. Reduced to accepting offerings from whores and exotic dancers.” She gripped the knife and twisted it.
I choked on a scream and curled up, my body acting on automatic to try and protect me from more pain.
“I suppose it can’t be helped. All the old gods are forgotten. It’s so hard to find worshippers these days. Where once we thrived on love and adoration, we must now subsist on fear. Most of us wouldn’t even have that if not for Him.”
“Who?” I asked
She trailed off and wrapped her hand around the knife, a dark smirk on her face. With one firm pull, she jerked it free. Blood pumped out of my wound and flowed freely down my ribs, pooling on the floor below me.
“Well,” she said as I writhed in pain, “I can’t tell you everything, can I?”
Darkness threatened on the edge of my vision. The chill cooled my body and left me shivering. Where once I’d felt the power of death hanging over me, I now felt it crawling inside me through every hole. Death saturated every cell of my being.
Just like when I stepped into a cemetery.
I closed my eyes and let the protective mental shields I’d built crumble to nothing. Anytime I was inside a graveyard, the dead pounded against my consciousness, begging to be let in. As fuel for my magic, I’d been tempted on more than one occasion to allow them inside to cast a spell or two. A spell cast in a cemetery using the dead as fuel was infinitely more powerful in my hands, and not just because I was standing in the cemetery. It was because, in the land of the dead, I didn’t have to hold back. I could reach across the planes that bridged this world with the next. It felt amazing, but it was also crazy dangerous. There
was no telling what would happen if I sucked in too much power, so I’d always kept a lid on that by avoiding graveyards as often as possible. Of course, this was New Orleans, and you can’t go anywhere in the city without being within shouting distance of a graveyard.
Vesta’s house was less than a mile from two.
The second I dropped my shields, power flooded in. Being so close to death, it was almost useless to do any offensive magic, but it wasn’t worthless if all I wanted was raw strength.
As Vesta droned on with her history lesson, I pumped power into my limbs and let it flow through my veins until my insides burned. Then, I opened my eyes and activated my new Sight.
I was still curled up, floating in the air just a few inches from Vesta. Close enough I could reach out and touch her, which was exactly what I wanted to do.
She must’ve sensed something. In the split second, before I moved, her eyes snapped open and she lifted the knife with both hands over my head. Before she could drive it home, I thrust my hand out and into her chest.
Her eyes widened as my hands wrapped around the glowing gold orb that was her soul. A goddess’ soul. “A Horseman? No! You can’t be!”
“Oh, yes I can,” I said, tightening my grip.
I wrenched Vesta’s soul free from her body.
As soon as I did, I slammed to the floor along with Emma. The golden orb writhed in my fingers, trying desperately to get free. I held it with all the strength I’d gathered, gritting my teeth as it jerked me every which way.
Beside me, Vesta screamed and turned as if to run. Before she took her first step, however, she exploded into a cloud of ash. Light shot up from the orb in my hand, creating a beacon. A split second later, The Baron appeared and leaned forward to grab the orb from my hand. The light flickered once, then shuddered as if it were afraid. “I’ll take that.”
He raised his hat and was gone, along with Vesta’s golden soul.
I stared at the empty space in my palm as ash rained down on me.
The last thing I saw before everything went dark was the flame in the brazier going out with a disappointing fizzle.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“We’ve got to quit meeting like this.”
Persephone lounged in her chair next to me, watching the empty stage. She was dressed differently, all in black with a proper collar, long skirt, and everything. She’d even donned one of those little hats with the black netting that came down in front of her face like a proper mourner. How nice.
I sighed and sank into the same plush chair I always wound up in. “Guess this is the last time I’ll wake up here next to you. I’d say I’m going to miss it, except I don’t really believe in an afterlife. Can’t miss it if I’m dead.”
She turned her head so she could face me. “You don’t believe in an afterlife? Not even reincarnation?”
“Should I?” I raised an eyebrow as I returned her look.
White teeth flashed behind her black veil. “You know I’m not allowed to tell you anything about the After.”
I shrugged. Reaper rules. They took them pretty seriously.
Persephone pushed up out of her chair and came to stand in front of me, her gloved hands folded. “I meant what I said. We really do have to stop meeting like this, Lazarus. As much as I’ve enjoyed your company, this has to be the last time.”
No rest for the wicked. I’d wanted to have a chance to say goodbye to Emma before I went, or at least make sure Moses and Naomi were okay. I hadn’t expected to die so quickly. Part of me wanted to tell her I wasn’t ready, but I was sure she’d heard it all before. No one was ever really ready to meet their reaper.
So instead, I pushed myself up out of my chair and brushed my hands over my t-shirt and jeans. “Okay, then. I’m ready. Take me to the After.”
Persephone burst out laughing. “The After? Oh, my dear Lazarus, I’m afraid I’ve been unclear. You’re not dead. Well, not permanently dead. The paramedics will be reviving you soon.”
“But you just said…”
Her pleased expression fell, and she looked away, exposing a pale patch of neck that her collar didn’t quite cover. “I’m afraid I’m no longer qualified to reap you. It’s no one’s fault, really. These things just happen sometimes.”
I glanced around the empty jazz club, unsure. “But you’ve always been my reaper. I don’t understand. Is this because of the Horseman gig?”
When she turned her head back to me, her eyes were big and wet. A streak of dust-colored liquid trailed from the corner of her eye. A tear. I didn’t even know reapers could cry.
She wiped it away with a gloved finger and forced a smile. “No, silly. For all that power, you’re still very much mortal. It’s just… Well, the boss feels I’ve become too… attached. Too invested. It was the cemetery bit that did it, you see. Manifesting in the mortal world as a physical being is forbidden. I broke the rules. Now, I must pay the price.”
“Persephone…” I placed my hands on her shoulders. They were cold as ice.
Without warning, she shot forward, practically throwing herself into my arms. Not sure what to do, I closed my arms around her and rested my head against hers. We stayed like that for a long moment before she turned her head and whispered into my ear, “Be careful, Lazarus. Everyone knows your name now. The mortal world has just become a most dangerous place for you.”
And she won’t be there to send you back anymore.
Neither of us said that last part, but it hung between us, making the air heavy and thick.
Persephone took a step back and traced her finger down my cheek, forcing a smile on her painted lips. “What do you say, Laz? One more for old time’s sake?”
I nodded. “I can’t imagine any better way for us to part.”
Persephone leaned in and pressed her lips to mine. I waited for the lightning bolt of pain to tear through me, but it didn’t come. Instead, the kiss deepened, intensifying to something more. Something I never would’ve expected from a reaper. She broke off the kiss and stepped back, leaving her palms flat against my chest.
I blinked. “That wasn’t so bad.”
Persephone smiled, then yelled, “Clear,” before hitting my chest as hard as she could.
I woke with lightning still in my chest and coughed into an oxygen mask, splattering it with blood. The scream of an ambulance made my ears ache. Through half-lidded eyes, I watched helplessly as the EMT sitting on my right moved his stethoscope over my chest. The normally icy cold metal felt like it was on fire against my skin.
Beside him, The Baron sat in his finest suit, leaning on his skull cane. He grinned at me and then vanished.
I rolled my head to the other side as new pressure tightened around my hand. Emma squeezed my hand. Her other hand gripped the tiny silver cross necklace she wore. Her eyes were closed, brow wrinkled deep in concentration or prayer. Maybe both.
I smiled. Not such a skeptic after all, huh? And then I was gone.
***
I woke up four days later in the ICU and startled a pair of nurses who were trying to take my temperature rectally. It was awkward. Really awkward.
To hear the doctors tell it later, apparently my body temperature had fallen to 94.7 and stayed there. Every time they tried to warm me, my vitals tumbled. Everyone kept telling me how lucky I was to be alive, and what a miracle it was that I wasn’t dying of hypothermia. In public, I laughed it off and settled on being as amazed as everyone else, but when I was alone, I wondered if the change was due to becoming a Horseman, or because I’d ripped out the soul of a goddess associated with fire.
I expected The Baron to be my first visitor, but I never saw him while I was in the hospital. Instead, the first person to muscle their way into my room was Detective Emma Knight. She burst in like a hurricane making landfall, all threats and anger. But she brought Moses Moses with her, which meant he’d survived, even if he was only walking with the help of a cane now.
Moses beamed at me from the end of the bed while Emma ripped
me a new one.
“What were you thinking? I could arrest you for all kinds of things. I should arrest you.”
“Yeah, but you won’t,” I pointed out and fumbled with the remote to change the channel on the TV behind her.
She stomped around the bed to pull the remote from my fingers before promptly turning the TV off.
“Hey, I was watching that.”
“I’m serious, Lazarus.” She leaned over the bed. Her voice had lost the harsh edge it’d started with, and now she just looked tired. “We were lucky this time. Naomi and Moses were able to clear you of any wrongdoing, and since there were no bodies…”
I should’ve been happy I’d been cleared of murder, but it didn’t feel right. She’d already told me they pinned everything on Gaston. Not that Gaston could object. He was apparently in a coma. All I’d done was touch his soul, and he might never wake up.
Don’t get me wrong, the guy was a dick, but he didn’t deserve that, or to go down for Vesta’s murders.
“How is Naomi?” I asked.
Emma sighed and sat on the edge of my bed. “Recovering. She said she was leaving New Orleans, too, so don’t you go chasing her down.”
“I’ve got no intention of doing that.” And I really didn’t. Naomi had been through enough. It was good that she was leaving to start over. I only wished I could’ve done more to help her.
The idea of her leaving brought back a familiar pang of pain in the low center of my chest. I swallowed, trying to alleviate it. “Odette?”
Moses shook his head. “No sign of her. No pings on her credit cards since the last one. No activity in her bank accounts. It’s like she just stopped existing.”
I relaxed against my stack of pillows and closed my eyes. She was really gone. I hoped at least she’d find happiness wherever she went.
“One thing’s really bothering me,” Emma said. The bed shifted, and I imagined her crossing her arms. “Those two guys pretending to be Feds. We ran their credentials and hit a wall. By all accounts, they’re legit with the government, but nothing I can find will tell me exactly which branch they work for.”
