Shallow Grave (The Lazarus Codex Book 3)

by E. A. Copen

  Jean floated on the outside of the circle, a pensive look coloring his otherwise pale features. At the sight of his half-brother, he charged the circle, arms outstretched, and promptly bumped into the barrier. I shuddered as it repelled him.

  “What’s this?” Dominique asked, turning back to me. “What’s going on?”

  I started to explain, but all that came out was a desperate wheeze. My legs failed, and I threw myself at the table, gripping the edge to keep myself upright.

  “Lazarus!” Emma’s voice was full of worry. “He needs help.”

  “No.” I lifted my resistant upper body on shaky arms. The bite in my bicep burned. “I can do this. I just need a minute.”

  Going that far into the After had drained me more than I expected. Had I attempted it without all the extra power Khaleda and I had generated the night before, I’d never have made it back. There was still power to draw on in the circle. I could feel it thrumming in a steady beat inside the obsidian dagger.

  “You don’t have your body back yet,” I said between panting breaths to Dominique. With a grunt, I flung my arm out to grab the dagger sticking out of the ghoul’s chest, but I didn’t draw it.

  The ghoul’s lips had turned blue and his skin a gray, ashen color. Dark veins had surfaced in his limbs. His eyes were closed, his face slack. Dead. In a way, it was comforting to know that I could kill a ghoul and a Horseman the same way I’d kill any other human, but it was also deeply unsettling. It meant that I could be killed just as easily.

  I closed my eyes and drew on the power vibrating through the dagger, using it to replenish my drained power reserves. I’d done that trick before once in the past, except I’d used a god’s soul as a fuel source and drew too much. That led to accidentally raising some three-thousand-year-old mummies. Luckily, there was only a limited amount of power inside the dagger. It wouldn’t restore me quite as well as cannibalizing a soul, but it did give me a nice boost, however temporary.

  “Where is my body?” Dominique demanded. “You promised you would put me back in it.”

  “Technically, I didn’t promise.” I pulled my hand away from the dagger’s hilt and shook out the buzzing numbness. “But I’ll still do my best. There it is. Or most of it anyway.” I nodded to the ghoul.

  Dominique’s eyes widened as he came closer. “No,” he said, his voice squeaky. “This can’t be it! It doesn’t even look like me!”

  “Hate to break it to you, pal, but the assholes that kicked you out of your body haven’t been very nice to it. I’d say they’ve been downright abusive. They turned you into a ghoul. You’ve been running around, killing and eating children. I’m gonna need you to jump back in there so we can stop your body.”

  The ghost puffed himself up, an incredulous look on his face. “Jump back in there? Don’t you think if it were that easy, I would have done it immediately?”

  Damn. So much for the easy way. I’d hoped I didn’t have to do it all myself, but it looked like that’s how it was going to turn out. Worse, Dominique didn’t seem to like the idea of being shoved into his ghoul body. I couldn’t blame him. The idea of turning into one of those monsters made my stomach clench into a little ball. I’d resolved to die first, yet here I was, ready to sentence him to the same thing for an eternity. It felt wrong. But if I didn’t figure out how to do this and test this theory, I wouldn’t be able to help Jean or Kaitlynn.

  I didn’t necessarily need Dominique’s permission to grab his soul and force it back into his body, not with the type of magic I had already worked. However, if I used my powers on someone who was unwilling, someone who hadn’t harmed anyone yet, I’d be as guilty as the Archon. I didn’t want to cross that line, not even to save someone else. The path to villainous monologues and evil cackling was a steep and fast downward slope.

  “Release me from this circle,” Dominique insisted.

  “Brother…” Jean shook his head. “This is your body. I can vouch for it. Look, see the tattoo on his side? The star and crescent moon?”

  Dominique crossed his arms and looked away. “Anyone could have that same mark.”

  “But not there. And not those scars. Look harder, brother. Those bright blue eyes may be larger than you remember, but they are yours.”

  Dominique frowned down at his body, eyes scanning it from head to toe. “But this thing… It isn’t me. It doesn’t even have hands. Why would you want me to become this?” He blinked at me, shaking his head.

  “It isn’t what I want, but it is what’s needed. I need you in your body, so I can find Jean’s body and stop an Archon from killing more people, and I need to do that before the blood moon rises in—” I pulled back my sleeve to look at my watch. “—about twelve hours.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  “People die,” I answered. “A little girl doesn’t get her soul back. Jean doesn’t get his body back. The bad guys win.”

  “Dominique.” Jean pressed his hands to the edge of the circle, drawing another shiver from me. “Do you remember the solemn vow we took? To protect the people of New Orleans against invaders, human or otherwise?”

  Dominique’s shoulders sagged. “That was a very long time ago. A lot has changed. We’re not what we once were. Didn’t know what we know now.”

  “Does it matter? If anything, that should make us more willing to be of assistance. We were heroes once. We can be that again. This man—” he nodded to me, “—however flawed he is, he can help.”

  “But without my hands…” Dominique looked down at his ghostly hands. “What’s a sailor without his hands? And as a twisted monster?” He frowned at Jean. “You expect me to live as one of them?”

  “Ghouls aren’t so bad,” I lied, shrugging. “Besides, you wouldn’t be like most of them. You’d have your soul back. Who knows? Maybe that’d make the difference. I know the local king of ghouls. Serkan’s a bit rough around the edges, but he’s not a bad guy. He takes care of his people. If that’s too much, I’m sure we can work something out once this is all settled. The important thing right now is stopping the Archon. Will you help me?”

  “Us,” Jean corrected. “Help us, Dominique.”

  Dominique’s brow creased as he considered it. After a long moment, he nodded. “Aye, captain. But I’m not doing it for you, necromancer, and not for this city or its people. I’ve served them once before without thanks. I know how that turns out. I’ll do it for vengeance against the one that did this to me. If you can promise me that, I’ll agree to your terms.”

  I nodded and raised my hands. “One dish of ice-cold revenge coming right up.”

  Necromantic power streamed from my outstretched fingers, pouring into Dominique’s form, coalescing it into a more manageable ball of light. Watching his ghostly body twist and contort under my will made my stomach turn. I expected him to cry out, to scream, but he didn’t seem to feel any pain. The ball of light spun, gathering Dominique’s disembodied soul much like how I’d seen planets form on a PBS special. Wisps of him floated away, pulled to the center by the power of the spin. I urged the ball of light to spin faster. Already, I could feel my power waning, and this time, once it ran out, I was out for good.

  Once I had him wrapped into a tight ball of glowing silver, I sent it spinning one more time and then slowly withdrew my power, watching it swirl and sparkle mid-air.

  “It’s beautiful,” Khaleda said, breathless on the other side of the circle. The ball of light danced in her dark eyes.

  “It’s so small,” Emma said. “I expected a soul to be…bigger.”

  “Some are. They come in all shapes, sizes, and all colors of the rainbow.” I plucked the soul carefully from where it spun and faced Dominique’s body. I’d held souls before in my hand, but they’d always struggled. Dominique didn’t. His soul gave off a pleasant warmth that reminded me of the sun reflecting off the surface of a large body of water.

  I gripped the dagger in one hand and the soul in the other and took a breath. Two. Exhaustion clouded my mind. I
shoved it away with all my remaining willpower and jerked the knife from the ghoul’s chest. Blood leaked out, coloring the ghoul’s ashen skin. I barely had enough time to notice it before I shoved my other hand over the hole and pushed the soul inside.

  A focused blast of delicate magic followed and, for once, I managed not to destroy the thing I was aiming at. The spell flowed in through the open wound and Dominique’s body seemed to mend itself of its own free will. The skin puckered and knotted, drawing up tight. The ghoul’s eyes snapped open, glassy and still dead. I spread my hands over the creature’s torso and commanded, “Breathe!”

  Dominique’s mouth opened, and he shuddered with the effort of drawing a breath.

  I jerked my hands back as if pulling strings and Dominique sat up. A maniacal cackle escaped my lips. “It’s alive! It’s alive!”

  The light above my head suddenly exploded in a shower of sparks and the back door burst open against a furious gust of wind that tore papers from my desk and books from the shelf. Thunder rolled outside. Rainwater blew in through the door accompanied by the familiar form of Jean Lafitte, only this version was very much alive. He raised a hand, gathering what looked like a swirling ball of lightning in his palm. “Hello, brother,” he said and released the spell.

  Chapter Twenty

  The lightning slammed into my circle and ripped it to shreds. It raced along the barrier in brilliant flashes of crimson. Everywhere the lightning touched, the floor cracked, and floorboards ripped away, sending splinters flying. The floor under me shifted, and I fell, striking my chin hard on a board flying into the air.

  Moses’ gun barked followed by Emma’s, but the Archon stopped the flying bullets with a single raised finger, freezing them in place. Khaleda threw a dagger that he batted away with his other hand. He cocked his head to the side, making the feathered cap he wore tilt. “Really? You of all people should know better.”

  Emma’s gun fired four more times, each pull of the trigger lighting up the room in a flash. The Archon stopped every bullet the same way and gave her a bored look. “Down, bitch.”

  An invisible force crushed Emma to the floor so fast she didn’t have time to cry out and held her there. She clawed at the floor, gasping to draw in air. Moses went to her side only to find himself tossed across the room. He slammed into the screen that normally kept my office computer hidden and slumped over my desk.

  Jean’s disembodied soul flitted over in front of Dominique. He waved his hands wildly. “Wake up, brother. Defend yourself!”

  But it was no use. I’d already completed the zombification process. Dominique wasn’t going to do anything unless I ordered him to.

  The Archon strolled over the broken floor, stepping over me. “My, you’ve seen better days, haven’t you?” he said to Dominique.

  “Stop.” I pushed myself up with one arm and spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor.

  The Archon raised his hands mockingly and spoke in a monotonous voice. “No, stop. Don’t. Please, Lazarus. You may be the Pale Horseman, but you’re no match for me. You’re practically spent already. Why, you couldn’t hurt a fly unless it flew into your mouth. Pity. I was looking forward to seeing what a Horseman at full power could really do. My experience with this one has been somewhat limited.”

  I pulled myself away from the Archon. “Archon or not, you can’t command Dominique anymore. He’s mine.”

  He tilted his head and reached out to lift Dominique’s chin, peering into empty eyes with a frown. “Yes, it would seem so.” He grabbed Dominique on either side of the head and jerked. Suddenly, Dominique’s head was on the wrong way.

  “No!” Jean screamed and rushed to his half-brother’s side as he fell limp onto the table. He tried to grab him, but Dominique’s body slipped right through his ghostly fingers.

  The Archon smiled and drew his fingers over his jacket as if they were dirty. “And still so much work left to do. Oh, wherever will I find another Horseman to pull out those last few souls I need on such short notice?” He tapped his chin with a finger and pretended to search the room.

  A shiver that had nothing to do with the icy chill in my bones worked its way through my body when his eyes settled on me. “If you think I’ll ever work for you, you’re mistaken. I’ll die first.”

  “I thought you might say that.” He lifted his pinky finger.

  The splintering crack of breaking bone filled the room, and Emma let out a desperate, choking cry.

  “Emma!” I shouted and turned to Khaleda. “Get her out of here!”

  Khaleda’s eyes flicked to the Archon who smiled back. “I’m here to make sure you don’t die, Lazarus. Father didn’t say anything about anyone else.” She slid the dagger in her hand back into her belt.

  My heart sank into my toes.

  “A wise decision,” the Archon said. “So what will it be, Horseman? Work for me or should I break every bone in her body?” He jerked his chin to the side, and Emma’s arm flew out, twisting. Her shoulder made a sickening pop, and she screamed in agony.

  I turned away, tightening my fingers on the table. The weight in my right hand felt wrong. I looked down to see the obsidian dagger biting into my palm. The same hunger I’d felt before after it tasted my blood settled in my gut. If I was fast, I could take him, the dagger promised. It would go deep into his chest and pierce his heart. We could end the Archon together.

  Yet even as the dagger whispered its promise, I knew it was a lie. I’d never get close enough to use the dagger. Not before he crushed Emma’s skull.

  Let her die, I thought and closed my eyes against her screaming. As terrible as watching her die would be, it wouldn’t be as bad as serving an Archon. As ripping out the souls of children to fuel whatever spell he wanted to work under the blood moon. He would kill more people, drag dozens or even hundreds of innocents before me and make me choose: serve or watch them die. If I stalled long enough, resisted, stood my ground until the blood moon rose and fell, he’d fail.

  The cost to me would be too much to bear. How many would he have to kill before he broke me if Emma didn’t? Ten? Twenty? A thousand?

  I gritted my teeth. “Promise me no one else dies.”

  “Lazarus…” Emma fought to lift her sweat-dampened forehead from the floor. Tears streamed from her eyes, and she looked pale. “Don’t.”

  I met her eyes and my resolve wavered. There’d be no going back if I went with him. Even if I somehow managed to stop him and get free, things would never be the same. Khaleda had warned me. She’d warned me to protect the people I cared about or distance myself from them so they couldn’t be used to manipulate me. I should’ve known, too. Every hero’s weakness is someone he’d die to protect.

  I swallowed and looked away from Emma, pushing myself to stand on wobbly legs and face the Archon. “Promise me no one else dies. Not anyone in this room, no more children. No one dies for your spell.”

  The Archon pursed his lips, drawing his thin mustache into a line. “You are in no position to negotiate.” He raised a hand, preparing to break something else attached to Emma.

  I lifted the obsidian dagger to my throat. “Yes, I am.”

  He froze, unsure. Then a smirk touched his lips. “Well, well. You do have a spine. You’d slit your own throat and force me to go and find another Horseman.”

  “Good luck finding one before the moon rises,” I spat and shifted the knife against my throat. “Your word that no more innocents die, Archon. Then you can have me, alive and willing.”

  A chuckle that sounded utterly wrong made the hair on my arms stand on end. “Very well, Horseman. I shall kill no innocents between now and the setting of the blood moon for my spell. Is that sufficient?”

  “No,” I growled. “No innocents period until then. Don’t think you can trick me with your slippery wording. I dated a faerie princess.”

  “Yes, yes.” He waved a hand as if the wording didn’t matter. “You have my word, Horseman.”

  “Release her.”

 
He sighed and rolled his eyes but snapped his fingers. Emma gasped out a breath.

  “Now lower the blade from your throat, Horseman.”

  Slowly, I pulled the obsidian dagger away from my neck. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Khaleda relax. What would she have done if I’d slit my own throat? She seemed to take her oath to protect me very seriously, but there wasn’t much she could do if I decided to kill myself.

  She stepped forward and twisted the dagger from my fingers. I glared at her. She’d never been a friend, but I had at least thought she’d be an ally. I should’ve known better than to trust Morningstar’s daughter.

  The Archon in Jean’s body drew a finger over his mustache and turned with a flourish to march for the door. “Come along, Horseman. We have much work to do before the moon rises and less than a day to complete it.”

  I took a step and faltered, going to one knee.

  “Oh, what is it now?” The Archon muttered.

  “The spell,” Khaleda answered. “He’s exhausted himself. He needs to recover.”

  “You’re charged with protecting him?”

  She nodded.

  “Then carry him. You can help him recover on the ship. I don’t have time to wait around.”

  Khaleda took a step forward. Darkness swirled at the edge of my vision. I thought I heard someone call my name and the floor drifted away before I slipped into unconsciousness.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  It was raining at the bridge. Big, heavy raindrops struck the swaying rope bridge stretched over the chasm of shadow. Wind pushed it first one way and then the other, creating the illusion that the bridge was slithering like a snake. Gentle thunder rolled above and lightning flashed.

  The storm didn’t have the fury of the one pelting New Orleans at dawn that day, but it was no less formidable. Cyclones danced, spinning in time to some beat I couldn’t hope to hear. Their great, conical shapes stirred to the right and left, on either end of the valley. Despite all the signs that there should be wind and noise, the valley was eerily quiet and still.