by E. A. Copen
Knight Shift
A Lazarus Codex Novel
By
E.A. Copen
This is a work of fiction. Names, persons, places, and incidents are all used fictitiously and are the imagination of the author. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, events or locales, is coincidental and non-intentional, unless otherwise specifically noted.
No portion of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
E.A. Copen
KNIGHT SHIFT
Book 4 of The Lazarus Codex
© E.A. Copen 2018
All rights reserved.
Please contact the author via e-mail with typos: [email protected]
No one is above the law. At least, that’s what federal agent Judah Black believes. Her job is to police supernaturals who have come out of hiding to live alongside humans. Read her story from the beginning. To find out how to get Fortunate Son, and another novella, for FREE, check out the link at the end of this book.
Chapter One
Dying hurts.
As the Pale Horseman, I’d died often enough to know it isn’t the most pleasant experience. Imagine my surprise at waking up to the sound of birds chirping, the feel of warm sunlight on my face, and lying on a cloud. Somewhere nearby, a string orchestra played a soft and soothing melody that would have lulled me back to sleep if not for the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Something was wrong.
I opened my eyes to an ivory-domed ceiling with tree roots carved into it. Not real roots, but the carvings were clearly meant to appear root-like. Three arches stood in the wall to the right guarded by a lifelike statue of a beautiful woman with hair and a dress both made of moss. More carved roots, painted in gold leaf, crisscrossed and curled around the room. Oil lamps hung unlit on the wall while daylight illuminated the chamber.
The bed I lay on was soft enough that it could’ve been made from literal clouds and contoured my body perfectly. It was wide enough to sleep a family of twelve with enough pillows for that too. A hand-stitched quilt with a floral pattern covered me while drapes of pastel green, fine as spider’s silk, twitched in the breeze coming through the open window.
I sat up, expecting my head to spin, but it didn’t. The last thing I remembered was stepping off Morningstar’s boat onto the docks just before sunrise. Unbearable weariness had settled into my bones along with the fever that had been burning through my body, and I collapsed.
The ghoul bite! In a frenzy, I turned to examine my arm where I knew the bite would be and found myself clothed in some ridiculous oversized white shirt with ruffles. Ruffles? Hell no. I barely looked good in my normal clothes. I tore at the sleeve, but it was too awkward to roll up, so I pulled the whole shirt over my head and examined my arm. The bite was still there, but the skin around it was less red and furious. Probing the area with my fingers still stung, but I didn’t feel feverish. Had Morningstar delivered on his promise of a cure already?
There was a small metallic bang followed by a creak. The wooden door on the other side of the room opened, and a young man carrying a tray stepped in. He was tall but had the stubborn rounded features of youth still on him. Probably old enough to vote, but not old enough to drink. Feathery auburn hair fell in a medium cut of straight hair behind pointed ears. His skin was the darkened color kids get at the beach after their first sunburn of the year. And, while I don’t say this often about men, I had to acknowledge it of him. He was pretty. The kind of pretty that makes girls swoon and blush.
He used his hip to maneuver the door and then swung it closed with a kick before turning around. “Oh,” he said, his eyes widening in surprise. “You’re awake. The princess was certain you wouldn’t be up for another day or two.”
Princess? I blinked a few times, and it started coming back to me. Morningstar had said he’d arrange for me to stay in the Summer Court of Faerie while he worked on a way to prevent me from turning into a ghoul. I had at least one ally in Summer, my ex-girlfriend, Odette. Though we weren’t exactly friends, we’d had our last parting on mostly amicable terms. She also happened to be pregnant with my child the last time I saw her. Time flowed differently in Faerie, so, for all I knew, that kid was grown up by now. Or maybe not even born yet. Screw Faerie and its unpredictable time loops.
“Uh…yeah.” I squinted at him because he looked familiar, though I was sure I’d never met a kid with pointed ears before. “Who’re you?”
“Declan, m’lord.”
Jesus Christ. The kid even had one of those stereotypical good-looking romance hero names. Poor kid.
He tilted his head to the side. “You don’t remember me, m’lord?”
“No. And I’m not a lord either.”
He seemed a little disappointed and unsure suddenly, but then remembered the tray in his hands. “Brought you some soup. It’s been easier to feed you since you’ve been out. But now that you’re awake, if you want something else…”
Feeding me soup? I rubbed my forehead. Just how long had I been unconscious? “Declan, where am I?”
Declan looked at me, the tray, and then around the room for a place to put it down. He finally found a table near the door and lowered the tray onto it before turning around and folding his hands in front of him. “You’re in the Summer Palace, seat of the Summer Court held by Her Royal Majesty, Queen Titania.”
I’d figured as much. It meant my gut feeling that something was wrong had been correct. If I knew anything about the fae, it was that they were ruthless, scheming, and underhanded. The last time I was in Faerie, the Shadow Queen had tricked me into becoming betrothed to her and I sort of killed her. Extreme response, I know, but it made sense at the time. I’m not good at commitment. Anyway, it was thanks to that decision the Shadow Court wanted me dead. Summer was in a cold war with Shadow, so I was safer in Summer than most other places in Faerie since we shared a common enemy, but I had no illusions of actually being safe.
“You don’t remember anything, do you?” Declan frowned.
I shook my head. Fuzzy memories were starting to come back to me, but they were disjointed and didn’t seem to make any sense. The images were too blurry. All I could recall were voices, feelings, and none of them seemed attached to the young man in front of me. “I remember striking a deal with Morningstar that brought me here and passing out on the docks, but that’s about it.”
“You were feverish when they brought you here,” Declan said. “For three days you fought the fever, muttering incoherently about pirates, mummies, and other monsters. Thankfully, Princess Odette’s new handmaiden knows a good bit about healing magic. It’s her you owe your life to, sir. We’d have lost you to the fever if not for her help.”
I looked again at the bite mark on my arm. “Anyone tell you how I got that fever?”
“Said it was a ghoul bite, sir. But no worries. Here in Faerie, you’re protected by a spell that slows the progression. You have some time before…” He trailed off, unwilling to say the rest.
“Before I turn into a flesh-eating monster, you mean.”
I sighed. Morningstar might’ve said he was working on a cure, but I trusted him about as much as a mouse trusts a cat. He’d already told me once before death wouldn’t excuse me from serving the three days I owed him, and I imagined being a ghoul wouldn’t exclude me from making good on the arrangement either. He had no real reason to hustle on the cure. I was going to have to take matters into my own hands.
The breeze picked up, moving the curtains on the bed and carrying the scent of something savory on it that smelled an a
wful lot like meat. My mouth watered, and my stomach concurred. Time to eat.
“About that soup…” I nodded to the tray on the table.
“Oh, sorry.” Declan turned and gathered up the tray. “I’ll get you something better.”
I held out a hand. “Gimme.”
He paused. “It’s just broth, sir.”
I gestured for the bowl anyway. I’d stuff my face with something more substantial later. For now, I had a beast in my belly demanding to be sated. If he carried that soup away, I was worried I might chew off my own arm with the way my stomach was carrying on.
Declan brought the tray to my bedside, and the smell got stronger. An uncontrollable urge came over me, and I snatched the bowl off the tray, tipping it against my lips. It was still hot enough to steam, but even the burning heat on my throat didn’t shut off whatever impulse made me grab the soup and gulp it down. Soup streamed down my chin and splashed all over the front of me.
True to his word, Declan had brought me warm, salty broth that tasted like beef, only gamier. Didn’t matter to me. I wasn’t interested in the flavor. All I wanted was to take care of the hunger that had suddenly gripped me. Yet the broth did nothing to quell the hunger. I still felt like I was starving to death.
When the bowl was empty, I held it out to him and started mopping up the mess I’d made, sucking residual bits of broth from my fingers. It was about then I realized Declan had stepped back, eyes wide with shock and horror at my actions. I pulled my fingers out of my mouth and drew an arm across my face. “Sorry. I promise I wasn’t raised in a barn.”
My stomach whined.
“I can get you more. Or whatever you like,” he offered.
I eyed the empty bowl. The primal part of my brain screamed for meat. Not just any meat, either. It was picturing a nice, marbled slab of red meat. I beat it down with a stick. The meaty scent of the soup broth had triggered some part of me that was lying in wait. With the way my arm suddenly ached, I couldn’t help but wonder if the ghoul virus wasn’t already affecting me. I didn’t normally have cravings for raw meat.
“I’m good,” I lied and then looked down at the messy blankets, suddenly aware of how gross I was. It wasn’t just the broth either. I was coated in sweat.
“I’ll draw you up a bath,” Declan offered and made for the door.
I stopped him, calling his name. It’d suddenly occurred to me that he wasn’t behaving like the romance hero of his namesake. Despite the nice clothes and good looks, he behaved like a servant who’d been mistreated one too many times.
He paused with one hand on the door. “Sir?”
“You took care of me while I was out?”
He shrugged. “I had help from the healer, sir, but the queen herself assigned me to you.”
I worked through it in my head. This healer of theirs had used magic to keep me alive and get me through the worst of the fever, but Declan would have been given the more menial, day-to-day tasks.
As if he could read my mind, he confirmed it. “I fed you, turned you so you wouldn’t get sores, kept you clean, changed your linens. Not much, I’m afraid. As I said, the healer did most of the work. I merely saw to maintaining your body when she wasn’t here.”
I cringed. The poor guy had literally wiped my ass while I was unconscious and now he was afraid I was going to yell at him, or worse. “I can run my own bath,” I said, throwing the blankets aside. “Just point me to the bathroom.” I fought to swing my legs over the side of the bed.
“You mustn’t—”
I tried to stand and quickly found out what I mustn’t do. Apparently, it was stand. I had my legs under me for a fraction of a second before they folded, the world spun, and I suddenly had a prime view of the stone floor. Declan was suddenly beside me, helping me up, asking me if I was hurt.
“Just my pride,” I grumbled. “What’s wrong with me?”
“You’ve been in bed for days. I don’t think your body’s caught up with your mind, sir. It’ll take time for you to get your strength back.”
Just as Declan was helping me back to sit on the bed, the door opened a second time, and I looked up at the clink of armor. Six very tall guys in lots of shining plate armor marched into the room, forming a line of three men on either side of the door. They carried both swords and spears and had shining helmets with a nose piece that covered the entirety of their noses. The sides of the helmets swept in and around their cheeks but were open in front of the mouth, effectively hiding everything but their eyes and lips.
A seventh soldier marched in, this one without a helm. He was the spitting image of Declan except he had much longer hair and slightly softer features. Stopping at the end of the bed with a hand on his sword, he announced, “Here comes Her Royal Majesty, the Matron of Flowers, Lady of Passion and Warmth, Conqueror of the Summer Sea and Queen of Life. Bow before Queen Titania of the Summer Court.”
He stepped aside, and the two lines of guards made a show of tapping the butts of their ears against the stone floor. At the same time, Declan dropped to one knee, placed his palms on the floor, and lowered his head. Even if I’d wanted to bow, I couldn’t get up.
With titles such as Matron of Flowers and Queen of Life, I expected a soft and beautiful woman. Apparently, I was meeting with the Conqueror of the Summer Sea. She came into the room in a brilliant viridian dress, the bodice covered in etched metal plates of the same color. A cloak the color of fire streamed off her shoulders. Dark, curly hair piled atop her head under a crown of roses with razor-sharp thorns that somehow hadn’t cut into her. She moved with all the grace of a predatory cat and had the confidence to match. Every step seemed planned to emphasize both her desirability and power.
With her presence, I found myself forgetting about the angry hunger gnawing at my belly. I wanted her, but not in a way that was purely sexual. Yes, that component was there—they don’t call her the Lady of Passion for nothing—but it was more like meeting an A-list actress. The feeling of knowing she’s so far out of your league that simply by acknowledging your existence she’s done you a favor you can never repay. It was true power, raw, sensual, and commanding. She was a force of nature.
Titania strode past her line of guards without noticing them and stopped in front of Declan without looking at him, that predatory gaze fixed on me. “So, you’re the Pale Horseman.” Jade eyes appraised me head to foot and back again, hands on her hips. “You killed a goddess, three gods, and murdered a Faerie Queen. You’ve allied yourself with the likes of filth like Lucifer Morningstar and managed to get bitten by a ghoul. You, Mr. Kerrigan, may be the worst Pale Horseman I’ve ever heard of.”
I found I had to wet my lips to get them to move. “Yes, but you have heard of me.”
She narrowed her eyes. Apparently, they don’t get to the movies often in Faerie. “Declan?”
“Yes, my queen?”
“Why wasn’t I informed he was awake?”
I expected him to tell her he’d only just found out himself, which was the truth. I hadn’t exactly screamed from the palace windows I was up and aware. He’d been surprised to find me awake and tried to find an excuse to leave several times over to go and get food. A good lad like Declan would’ve taken that opportunity to send word. I’d stopped him.
Instead, Declan lowered his head further. “I’m sorry, my queen. I’ve failed you.”
“Ten lashes should remind you.” The queen gestured vaguely to her guards. The one who’d announced her entry stepped out of line toward Declan.
“Now wait a minute.” I grabbed one of the bedposts and pulled myself to my feet with a grunt, leaning heavily on it for support. The move put me directly between her head guard and Declan. “He barely knew himself. You can’t punish a man for not reporting what he didn’t know. He only found out a few minutes ago, and I made him stay.” I squared my jaw and raised my head. “You want to hit someone? Hit me, big guy. Come on, give it your best shot.”
“You don’t command me, human.” The guard put hi
s hand on his sword and looked to his queen. The question was clear. He was looking for permission to cut me down to carry out his order.
I should’ve been more worried than I was, but the way I looked at it, dying at the hands of some pompous fae jerk would be better than completing my transformation into a ghoul. Besides, if I died in Faerie, Morningstar would have a hell of a time collecting my soul to make me work off my debt. It was a win-win for me, so why not stand up for the little guy who’d done nothing wrong?
But the queen waved him back. “Perhaps there’s more to this Horseman of Death than meets the eye.”
“Maybe I just don’t like to see an abuse of power.”
She folded her hands in front of her, her face made of alabaster. “All power comes at a cost, Horseman. I have been the Summer Queen since your ancestors first looked out over the Atlantic and dreamed of crossing it. As queen, I demand absolute obedience. I cannot afford disobedience. Even the slightest deviation and I could lose more than my crown, as your interactions with the Shadow Queen have proved.”
“Nyx deserved what she got. She—”
“She sought to expand beyond her station,” Titania finished. “To influence the mortal world by controlling you. She underestimated you, Lazarus. I will not make that same mistake.”
Our gazes met and held, challenging. I watched fire flicker in her eyes as she considered killing me, despite her promise of safe passage. It would be easier for her. Kill me and somehow convince The Baron to name someone else to the job, someone she might manipulate easier. I saw her consider it as Nyx had, and learn from Nyx’s mistake.
Then she said something completely out of left field. “What are your intentions with my daughter?”
“Odette?” My eyes went to Declan as if he could offer some assistance. He kept his gaze fixed on the floor, so I turned back to Titania and offered my best innocent smile. “Uh…”
“Don’t play with me, necromancer. Answer me truthfully. Are you still interested in bedding or wedding my daughter?”
